If you're into rock music you know the myths, especially the one about selling one's soul to the devil in return for hellishly good guitar chops.
My myth isn't as exciting as most, but as I struggle to come to terms with the ongoing symptoms of my traumatic brain injury (TBI) -- and the fact that they have persisted for well over three years -- I've decided to view my intersecting with a tile wall as my crossroads.
How else to put a somewhat positive spin on all this?
Granted, it was not my intent to trade good health for extra time to write songs, and I am hardly a better guitar player than I was pre TBI, but there is no doubt that the accident mystically enabled me to connect better with my muse.
And so last night, as I faded out early at Hyde Street, while Sam Bevan (left) worked with engineer Jaime Durr to lay down some RAWK, I can now blame the supernatural, the paranormal, the devil.
Or a boring tile wall.