| Are you going to any of the October concerts? | |
| Of course! | |
| Maybe... | |
| I am sitting out this round! | |
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 3-20-07 I would like to start out this week's column with four words: Gustav Klaus Wolfgang Schaefer. Every morning Gustav wakes at the first glittering twitches of dawn. His first thoughts usually consist of "I exist" and "to be alive, OH TO BE ALIVE". Gustav is a philosopher and a poet. He is a sculpted painite, full of splendor but utterly alone. He is a dwelling! Gustav is a twenty first century man with a heart of gold and pockets as deep as the Mariana Trench. He feeds the world with his clever insights and uncommonly common good looks. Gustav Schaefer is going to make some lucky young girl the Queen of the island nation of his throbbing, meaty heart. I could murmur mutterings on Gustav all day long if allowed. He is an unspooled line of yarn just ready to be a sweater. He will fly onto that loom and make himself the answer to your question, "is there a draft in here or are none of us really ever ALIVE?" Brace yourself, friend, brace yourself indeed. Gustav is in the building and he is good. Every morning, after Gustav ponders the universe, he eats a sparse meal of dry toast and earl gray tea. He reads Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil as a child might glance over a coloring book and think, "but I want to color outside the lines". He reads chapters between bites of toast and sips of his steaming beverage. His mind is awake and alert and he is a pure animal of philosophy. Then he writes in his journal by candle light, cautious as not to wake the three boymen who share his moveable lodgings. The tour bus does not constrain him, his mind breaks through the thin walls and travels like the hawk- graceful and speedy and basically pretty hot. His roommates are chickens and ganders. He would leave the nest if he weren't so humble and content to play second fiddle to lesser birds. He is a true man. He will settle now for his meek position in the world. 
After breakfast and meditation, his mates stir from their bear like slumbers. They are sluggish and hairy. They have grown sloth like with their nightly hibernations and enormous hairdos.Gustav bids them all good morning and assists them in beginning their days. Bill needs coffee and pop tarts that Gustav can supply with just a flick of his powerful, graceful finger. Georg's lost his guitar tuner and Gustav knows exactly where it sits, hidden from the world between the couch cushions. Tom needs help detaching his dreds from a random groupie, and Gustav knows exactly what sweet, soft words to say to cut her loose. "You are worth more than this," he tells the girl, and gives her a warm washcloth. The bus is only moving because Gustav says it is. There is only unity because of his hand and his mind. Gustav is, and always will be, a force of life that turns the world. I'm not saying Gustav is God, I'm just saying God wouldn't mind that misconception. Gustav starts every show with a word to each band mate. He tells Bill, "You are the head and the mouth", he tells Georg, "You are the backbone", and he tells Tom, "You are the genitals." Gustav is of course the body and soul. 
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