They just parked this old squad car on the corner. Nobody is ever in it, at least not in the past few weeks. Must be some crime deterrence thing. I have to be careful, I can easily exceed the speed limit on my bicycle, and I’ve roared past a couple times already. Maybe I’ll squeal rubber next time, lay down a patch right in front of his bumper. Whaddya say? Things are too quiet around here.
I could not just get underway today, being tired to the bone the way you get after a day of piling lumber, and yes, I once did that for a living. I just vegetated. Television did not help, but there was an interesting show called “Below”, filmed in a real WWII sub, you can’t fool me on that one. However, the script was definitely at least 1990’s.Otherwise you would just never believe the number of personal problems that the US Navy allows on board. Something goes wrong every damn five minutes that puts your patience and virtue to the test. Such as the woman on board who waits until they are 40 fathoms under and being depth-charged to demand her “rights”. How do we just know that not too many nautical miles off is the first Gay Boat?
Wallace thoughtfully bought me a Su Doku game. With nine skill levels and features galore. I may have to report to him that it is not that easy to operate. Plus, there is something just a little more blonde-friendly about working the puzzle out of a booklet. Any true Crib champion would totally understand this. Of course, south Florida was out of AA batteries when I set out to try this game.
Music news. I spent the mid-afternoon rigging up my gear. My Ampeg now has the proper cleats bolted in [to wrap up the power cable], the cleats they thoughtfully quit including twenty years ago. I decided to just go up to Jimbo’s to replace the “dance posters” and met a new bar-maid in the fray. She is 36 and twice the recommended weight. For the life of me, I don’t recall her name, but I know her parents are personal friends of the people who operate Jimbo’s, and that they own a pub out on 62nd and Johnson.
The evening must have been novel in this town, in that when I got there the place was empty but I still got up and played the show. Mostly to stragglers all evening. This is what got the conversation going with the barmaid, who works two other bars who are “looking for something new”. She reports they had a house band, which she says were great for the first few weeks but then began screwing up and developing bad attitudes. Maybe they had day jobs at the airport?
That means as early as next weekend or plain early anyway, I may be playing gigs for a small string of local bars. Turns out Jo’s friend is also the daughter of the best friends of the bars over near 441. Oh, and while I won’t tell you what I charge for a gig, I will tell you it is “twenty-five dollars more” than the last guitar player was getting. The tips are far, far better. Sure, he could sing and play guitar, but he never was worth as much as I and that is gap is only going to widen considerably. Who knows, one day he may just walk into one of my gigs with his silly old demo tape.
Speaking of recording, Cowboy Mike wants one. Or at least he did until we played. Word of mouth is by far the cheapest advertising but rarely the best unless somebody in charge is doing the talking. I do believe we have that situation. Jo did not come in during my show, so I tracked her down to Capt. J’s pub on Dixie, where she was Karaoke-ing. It turns out they are also good friends with the owner of McGowan’s and the Blarney Stone. Cha-ching!
From the talk, Kim, the owner of Jimbo’s, who walked in mid-way of the Friday show, was so impressed that she did not at first even recognize me. She was blown away, and apparently stated that she was going to “march right over” to some club on Hollywood Beach and tell them about us. Let all this be a lesson to anyone who doubts that I have managed bands since my early teens. Nobody gets the gigs like I do. Demo tape, my eye, real club owners know to drop in any hear you play elsewhere first. You can’t fake a live performance.
Last, thanks to music I made enough this week to buy all the extras I needed for the band, and I’m taking tomorrow off and driving to South Miami, maybe to the Keys. Some place nice. Hasta la vista, baby.
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