The good news is the drive belt is fine, you can see it still has all the teeth. The bad news is the clutch is bad. That’s the big pully-like disk with the six holes that dominates this photo. That’s $60 plus labor but I need reliable wheels. While I was at it, I repaired the headlight and have a conversion kit to make it solid state—but it came without directions and so far nobody can get it to work.
Another Johnny Cash tune makes the grade. “I Got Stripes.” His music dominates my show, followed closely by Don Gibson’s finest two. The more you play Cash, the more you realize he isn’t a country musician at all. In fact, I have never heard a single country cliché in his entire repertoire, either lyrics or music. But I take advantage of his strong association with country fans to fuel my act. The trick is to jolt the audience by including something Johnny never had—a strong bass line.I take advantage of another effect by catching people off guard because everybody knows bass players can’t sing. It works better on walk-ins who are attracted by the music before they see the performance. I think it is because among the few bass players that sing, most of them skimp on the bass lines when they do. In a sense, a good bass line is a second melody so you really do have to do two things at once to get it right.
Another of the endless reviews required to live within budget has been completed, and if you are wondering, yes, it is an ongoing task. But anything beats living in constant poverty-driven desperation like some people I know. To put it in perspective, it takes about an extra hour per week to do the reviews. It only seems bothersome, but in fact because my situation is very mercurial, it is a treat to know I can keep on top of matters. For example, now with music practice, my expenses have increased 6.2%. You can guess I’m hoping to get that back plus much more.
It is interesting to note how so much poverty is a state of mind. When income drops, the worst thing to do is cling to a former life-style. Doing so distorts the border between necessity and luxury. Do you really need $80 per month cable after you lose your job? Some must think when you aren’t working, what is there to do besides while the hours watching soaps and getting behind on the rent?
I can tell you that a crucial aspect of avoiding poverty is to live within your means by keeping a small reserve at all times. Those who say this can’t be done haven’t tried it. They’ll claim circumstances didn’t allow them, that those who can are lucky, and every damn excuse you can think of except doing it. Secret: it isn’t the reserve that saves you, it is that to keep a reserve, you can’t have a screwed up set of priorities rattling around the brain. If that is the true problem, well then, some people deserve to be poor.
Which all reminds me, the sidecar* is still for sale and the price has dropped by $600. When is that weird lady going to realize she will never sell the thing to anyone except me for, well, let me up my offer a bit and be nice to her? I assure you, I’m not known for being nice to neurotic, gossipy, small-minded, ferret-like, non-blonde, thick-waisted, heavy-set broads. Other than the frumpy middle-aged mother hen housewife type, she is the embodiment of everything I despise in a woman. Patsie, did you get that?
[Author's note 2016-01-28: this is not the sidecar that I originally bought. This was a real Dnepr advertised by a strange lady in the Miami Design district. You'd ask about the motorcycle and she demanded your life history. Weird.]
Bingo was a bust, every year we get a slow stretch this season. But the show is still full steam; I never slacken because of a small audience, Glen. I made enough to go out afterwards so I stopped to see the show at G’s place. First rate band, second rate audience. These small clubs do not tip and that joint is one of the worst. I put $2 in the bucket to notice there was only $1 in there before me. The crowd was listening for free.
Then again, G’s doesn’t really have the right mix somehow. It is too small for a four piece rock group but they don’t seem inclined to try anything else. The crowd is all aging couples and the waitresses are all in their 30s and it frankly looks funny seeing that age group in cutoffs and halter tops. I must have had a incredulous expression seeing so little in the tip jar because both guitar players leaned toward me and said, “I know.”
Downtown has become raucous on Saturday night. Not a place for a quiet stroll. The clubs blast music onto the sidewalks like a pack of self-frustrated teenage boys with their ghetto boxes. It is spilling into the side streets now as the community begins to discover the value of low prices a few steps off the strip. I don’t think there is one original club or café left from even five years ago.
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