Let’s start the day right with a breakfast of rice and anchovies. Has anyone ever croaked from eating unorthodox breakfast food? I’ve always said eat what your system tells you. Unless you are a civil servant and have a guilt-based craving for cheese doodles. Um, let me take that back. Eat it by the bushel, you people.
Here’s a mirror shot of me, except this isn’t for on-line dating, loser’s option number one. I quickly noticed how all the uglies and betas claimed to be there for the chats. Old ladies clinging to school-girl notions. Mothers claiming singlehood. Men in love with themselves steering every conversation toward sex. (This picture was nearly deleted when I saw the neat shirt. I was photographing the area where the recording equipment is set up and took this picture to gauge the light.) I drove past Dekka this morning to see a crew cleaning the parking lot and a for rent sign in the window. Without massive advertising, it was a bad location on a one-way street. I wish them well. They were personable and supported music.
Next, I examined the types of websites that made the top 500 based on hits. Determining popularity by counting visits is akin to calling Suzy Slut the best girl in homeroom. The list say shallowness and repetition: Google, eBay, Amazon, Facebook. For all its promise, the Internet has succeeded only in spreading gossip and misinformation. Except for Forbes , the few news agencies present were formulaic: a massive sports section and one crossword puzzle. No scientific, academic, cultural, artistic, or intellectual page made the grade. Nor any blogs.
Molina, the worst health care provider I know of, again denied an important prescription—and I can’t change providers until October. I am considering paying the $180 per month on my own. What a bunch of scumbag lowlifes they turned out to be. It would be different if there was a cheaper generic version, but there isn’t for me. Molina covers aspirin, band-aids, and liver pills.
I take it easy these days, but just you remember that I worked by whole life until I dropped in 2003. I never did find the right woman in my adult life. (With Pearle, Judy, Bev, Kim, and Sandy, I wasn’t an adult yet.) But the lady at Kiss Café noticed I rarely did nothing. (Duh.) I was always reading, studying, thinking, that type of thing. This led to a conversation this morning, centering specifically on what I like in a woman.
How does one answer that truthfully? I will date any woman I find attractive, but what I seek in a partner is more complicated. I prefer women who are, like myself, blonde and blue-eyed.
It seems she has a cousin who is an aerobics instructor who will be visiting the USA this month. I’ll call her Lady H. The story is Lady H is 42 years old, speaks four languages, is educated, but keeps “meeting men who break her heart”. I may have a date. My inquiries into Lady H’s appearance were quickly sidestepped with the phrase “she works out four hours per day”. Yeah, but what happens the instant she stops doing that? Amber alert.
Tonight’s Friday gig was not a success and not just in the sense that not every gig can be fantastic. The performance revealed shortcomings that should have been nailed long ago. I am not yet a strong vocalist. I still require the background be done right. Instead, we flubbed the timing, the keys, the chord changes, the volumes and the playing style. It turns out very hard to sing while contending with all this.
Jimbos or not, I don’t like a third-rate show, so it is back to the drawing board until we clean up the act. It has proven too much to be the conductor and singer in addition to bass and drums unless the guitar rhythms and chords become automatic. I’ll examine the recordings and decide what needs focus. I accidentally had last weeks printout, so was missing some drum settings. But for us being there and not having any instrument or wardrobe malfunctions, the show was a dog.
Last, I don’t need any reminders that each band is different when I say that we are behind schedule, and nearly drastically so. I suspect there has not been enough independent practice, me with the vocals, Trent with the guitar. It’s harsh, but even complete beginners should have put on a better show by now. I know because I’ve done it. On the positive side, I complete rearranged the recording desk and gear in the Florida room.
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