Brrr, it has dropped into the low 70s (Fahrenheit) and that sends me for the bookstore. Thanks to the bicycle, I know all the side roads to avoid what’s left of rush hour. By that, I mean although there are fewer cars, they still bunch up at the same intersections. In the process, I found an author worthy of the name, and I’ll be buying one of his books shortly.
His name is Dave Cutcher and you can view his work at MH Professional . From one natural teacher to another, good work, Dave. But I would loose that title “Evil Genius” soon as I got the bucks. The rest of the series is just bad enough to erode a reputation. For relevance, good explanations, and a sense of what you need to know, Cutcher is boss. I would place Cutcher among the top electronics authors of the day. His work is so fine, I could swear I’d proofread it myself, and I don’t buy books unless I’m certain I’ll get many times the value back.
Speaking of books, are they on the way out? Unless there is a vast improvement and lowering of price by the e-reader people, probably not. Both the readers and the books cost too much. I’m sure they are aware of this but haven’t really done anything, indicating sales at the leading edge phase must still be brisk. I donated my e-reader to the club to experiment downloading since it rarely works for me. I don’t care for the tiny screen 4G readers, either. That’s like reading your car insurance policy on the back of a baseball card.
Let me see if there is any non-robotic news today. Okay, I’ve never bought overpriced Starbucks ground coffee, and they finally admitted to overcharging customers $1.50 per package for anything less than a pound. What did I tell ya? We would also like to get some facts on e-publishing, as in how to do it yourself. It is no good trying to pry this information out of Google. If anyone knows where I can find the code to write a search engine, please, let me know. A good search engine is the only thing likely to surpass Google and Zuckerburg in this decade.
You know who, with his minimalist acting skills, could come back today and make a big difference? Steve McQueen. Unlike Travolta, who finally learned a detectable hint of ability much, much later in life, McQueen added a certain charm to every scene, although that was usually about it. If these two had traded generations, only McQueen would have still been a star. And I say that in full awareness of the two-dimensional movie industry of the post-war stretch. Instead, I’m afraid we are stuck with another twenty years of black-haired half-English actors who took shaving lessons from Yassir Arafat.
Ah, but I still get a kick out of old movies with no basis in fact. Where gorgeous women waited twenty years for their boyfriend to get out of prison, and met him at the gate, to boot. How even rental cabins had five acres of playground-grade surroundings for the kids to romp. Back when a job left you with money and energy to form a rock band and work on your hot rod. And every neighborhood had a pretty, single blonde girl of unquestioned decency and horrible taste in men.
I’ve reviewed and revamped my song list. By forced listening to Kiss Country, I’ve identified around a dozen possible replacements for my weaker numbers. By weak, I don’t mean musically, rather a tune like Jambalaya. Such music I can play in my sleep if ever need be, so kind of remove them as standards. I’m even going to try a version of “Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy”, no promises.
If I’m going to change to compete, might as well do it from the ground up. “Compete”, I say? Oh yes, guitarists in this town observably hate to learn new tunes and there’s maybe three I owe any favors to. Remember also, I’m no longer restricted to searching for a mediocre guitarist now that I have become one. (Remember Brian Khe San from the coffee houses? Yeah, well I’m already better than that. And I know the right lyrics.)
According to Guitar Eddie, I should file my fingertips with emery board. That makes sense and didn’t I hear about that centuries ago? I invited Eddie to an arbitrary Xmas gig at Jimbos some Friday in December. Think “Battle of the Bands”, as this will pit the two of us in terms of musical ability. Eddie still plays washed out guitar music with a best before date, while 80% of my material is either new or novel (as in major hits that nobody else plays). I’ve also invited him to practice guitar duo arrangements, but he warily declined.
This is understandable if you recall Eddie likes to take the credit for teaching me to sing. While Eddie will put down a drummer or bassist in a wink, he is wise not to do that with another guitarist. I have an avenue of experience he never considered important until we met—I can arrange music to fit the size of the orchestra. And he knows full well that is going to be applied to my guitar. Eddie, better brush up on your lead breaks because one day soon I may decide to give that a whirl.
(May I remind the reader that I have no natural talent; that all I do musically was painstakingly acquired the hard way. But I do admit to often falling into that peculiar mindset where talented people assume you can do what they do “if you wanted it enough”, and I apologize for when I go there. I mean, define “wanted”. According to that theory, I didn’t "want" enough to be a millionaire porn star at 18, my "want" was to freeze my ass off in a Montana lumber mill. You decide.)
