The static comes in slow.

I was walking backstage last night and venue employees were smiling at me. I wonder if they knew who I was or if they were just covering their ass encase I was someone important. I starting thinking about what I was a part of and how fleeting our art is. I'm from a theatre background and the momentum of it always bothered me. I hated that we worked so hard for something that was so fleeting. There were times when I wanted to go back to sets I loved or shows I loved and watch them again, but they were gone. Dismantled and whisked away never to be whole again. My life is still like that. It's so fleeting I've stopped caring. Though the plot is dictated by the audience for the most part and the fantastic show is one where they are really into what we are doing. In general it's the same set list, same costumes, same, same. same, yet fleeting. It's like flashing a mob of people and running away to do it to another group in another town. Yet they are begging you to stay. If we did stay they'd be like- yawn... that is so yesterday. I always thought the Toad the Wet Sprocket song Walk on the Ocean was about being on tour. Just the verse-
half and hour later we packed up our things
we said we'd send letters and all those little things
and they knew we were lying but they smiled just the same
it seemed they'd already forgotten we'd came

And that is the truth. As much as you love us we're gonna be gone tomorrow and you will go back to your home, go to work or school and live the life you had before we came. And by next week you might of even forgotten our name.