I follow his reasoning. Too geeky for words? Dweeb? Nerd? Nobody? Switch to upright and become instant hipster. At least in their own minds. My feeling is that anybody who plays an instrument the same way everybody else plays it isn’t a real musician. And that pretty much describes the majority of bassists. But I figure you’d have to be pretty deadbeat on a real bass to think an upright will make you cool. The way I play bass, I have never personally felt any twinges of inadequacy. I have had standing ovations and have made three $100 tips for what I do. Some of those were while my hero guitarist stood there slack-jawed.
I don’t like finger-bass or limp-wrist styles. I figure a bass should be played the way one would naturally hold it the first time someone hands it to you. If you have to take lessons on holding the bass, you are screwing up already. Some music schools teach that using a pick is cheating. Shows you what they know. I use a pick, and it is super thin and if they don’t like it, well.
Colorado on my mind. I completed the budget for the trip by early this morning. Never in my life have I had so much cash for a single trip—including my overseas adventures. Are you ready for me to get somebody’s goat on this? Read my lips, squaw: a large chunk of this cash is the money I would have given to Wallace had you had let him keep his promises. I hope that burns deep because you know the dollar amount. Keep checking back, bitch, I’ll take some pix to delight you. Thanks for the vacation, you skid mark on society’s collective underwear.
Another loser in this game is Theresa. If she’d simply been nice to me, she’d have it all by now. I can’t figure out women that crazy. To cheat me for a lousy $200 in rent because she thought I was helpless, she screwed up her best possible chance for an absolutely secure future. The bottom line is she didn’t want to change, she actually likes aarping. Strange people indeed.
[Author’s note: aarping is a term used for old people who sit around all day complaining about everything. I recognize it is one thing to complain and quite another to have earned the right to complain by virtue of having worked your way out of the bad situation. If you are in the same boat at 50 as at 25, STFU.]
This morning found me flat on my back at the clinic for another round of expensive tests. Why don’t the docs just admit what I’ve known for years—my condition is the result of a broken heart. They keep trying to find physical causes, which if there were any, would have been long since unearthed. Phooey on them. But the tests are mandatory for my insurances.
Recovery was at Kiss’s Café, where I can relax with people like myself, that is, not from around here. With life experience, good educations, positive outlooks, self-supporting, honest, and a few dozen other qualities that went extinct in America back in 1965. You can look back, I’ve never recommended anyone live in Florida and I’ve been planning on leaving for eight years running.
