I never understood people who “need” news as it happens, even if it is on the other side of the country and does not concern them. It is a form of mental disease when you can’t wait until you get home tonight to see a high-speed chase or a bank robbery. The media spoon-feeds such addictions by glorifying television pictures as “live”, and many people buy it. Can’t really complain, though, because they would just maintain it says in the Constitution they can do anything they want.
Something was happening over on Federal around noon as I heard the roar of helicopters. I swear, they take the mufflers off those things to serve as a form of advertising. Worst offender? The station with the “10” on the chopper. You can just see the helicopters, a half-mile and a mile away, yet the roar was enough to interrupt my nap. Damn the choppers, I say. Get them reporters down on the ground and where they belong—in the line of fire.It will be nice to get back around normal people again, if only for a day. Alain called to remind me about tonight, she wants me to get there early in case she needs a hand from me and JP, if he shows. There are supposed to be a talented singer there, so that is the hint to bring my gear. I’m leaving out food until I get there, trust me, it is always worth any wait.
In the early morning I began to word process the lyrics to Cowboy Mike’s tunes. The material is actually novel in its own way and a bit catchy. It’s clear he’s never really written his words out or he would have “learned” to do things differently. However, a certain amount of mumbling can easily make up for any lacking anapestic tetrameter and impart a little rustic charm besides. Who knows what could happen if the sixties ever roll around again?
A quick record match reveals something else. The guitarist from y’day has the same three favorite songs as I recall from the Chocolate Moose just over 16 months ago. I would only have gone to such a place by invitation. It hit me when he played certain bad notes during Johnny B. Goode. I’ve jammed with this guy somewhere. Cort’s Coffeehouse? What kind of working musician has the same three favorites after a year? It will come back to me but I’m already hesitant about putting more effort into this one.Tonight was Alain’s birthday party, and I have several pieces of good news. You get just two of them. But first, let me say that they have done a fantastic job renovating the house. The master stroke was knocking down the partition between the kitchen and dining room. It changed the character of the entire house, and now you can see from the kitchen all the way through both living rooms out to the patio. As usual, Corey outdid himself with shrimp and pork He has an aptitude for cooking and it manifests itself when he uses spices. The shrimp sauce was remarkable. You get this grainy picture of Corey acing up the finishing touches, standing where before he would be facing a solid wall.
Myself, I would be lost trying to serve fifteen people. My only concept of it is to call a caterer. I once read an army cookbook on how to plan large meals (“take one wheelbarrow of flour”) but four is the most I’ve ever cooked for and only twice in my life. Item one of good news is that I met a nice lady, and we got along spontaneously. This was no setup, because I am the only non-family member with a standing invitation meaning this must have been a case of friend bringing a friend at the last moment. I realize that is not clear but that’s all you get to go on, except that I don’t do blind dates.
Another thing, guys, I wound up giving her my blog URL and email address. Kind of Internet dating in reverse, which is a good thing. Any non-computer types out there are supposed to read a whole bunch into that. I guess my point is that I hope she calls and that I must still be a victim of tradition. Just that now that tradition is computerized.
Item two. After dinner before the crowd dispersed, we gathered around and sang “Happy Birthday” as I strummed the guitar. No big deal, well, not so fast. The shocker for me is that had I picked up the guitar and without thinking, I, me that is, realized I had sung the tune note for note perfectly. That is the first time in my life I have ever pulled something like that off. Singing! Not just on key, but real singing. Necessity being what it is, I now know if I can do it once, I can do it again. I’m making no promises but those who have followed my career are aware what such events can mean.
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