I see Hometown or Roto has placed caution ribbon around the entire grease area, a little too late for me. I talked to a lawyer momentarily this morning, but oddly, his secretary kept pumping me for the type of information they could sell or profile me with (name, address, phone) before they would answer any questions. It was bad lawyer, because they wanted to know if I had filled out a bunch of documents I never heard of before they would take the case. For instance, whether I called the police or went to a hospital, which from my point of view is none of their business. When they said this paperwork had to be done at the time, I asked if that was true even if I had been unconscious and they said yes. I hung up. Their office is “just off” Young Circle.
Time to call a firebreather. I dislike lawyers who owe too much to the system. Of course, it makes sense that a lawyer will support the system that keeps him in business, but I know some are born wealthy enough to take on all opposition.I spent the day getting some database updates and logistics out of the way at the doggie wig place. Allow me to state that the cost projections I did on a scant few scraps of pricing information late last year turned out to be uncannily close to the real costs taken off the invoices. Often, my guesses (which they were) hit the mark within ten cents on a sixteen dollar item. Too be sure, a few large errors cancelled themselves out, but they were precisely where errors were predicted, such as air freight costs.
I am also informed there was a billionaire (“not just a millionaire”) in the shop today. I couldn’t tell. A few things were mentioned about my indifference until Ruth assured everyone that one thing I am never concerned about is how much money somebody else has. I went on about my computer work. I must go in tomorrow, there are some deadlines with Modern Dog Magazine and I have to locate some photos to scan for the Fall Issue. For the first time in, let’s see, yes, 23 years, I talked to someone in Barbados. I celled the Sheraton Center Mall in Christchurch to get an email address. Small world. I was on Rockley Beach when the Grenada thing happened. (Celled, as in called on the cellular telephone.)
Say, I can squeeze in the trivia for today right now. Christchurch is a relatively swank area compared to the shanty town of Bridgetown. What is now the Sheraton Mall (an ITT subsidiary) was once the manufacturing plant for the Intel computer chips originally used by Bill Gates. Now it is a plaza with about 75 stores.
Anyway, folks, Cowboy Mike and I had a fantastic practice tonight. The building blocks are all in place. I suspect he’s never had such a great sound from a duo before. He is digging out tunes I can tell he thought he’d never do, even with a larger orchestra. Now he will literally do one part at a time and enjoy the show himself. We had a hell of a grind with “I Hear You Knockin’” because it is an eight-bar blues but right where you least expect it.
We finally had to write it out note for note and word for word until we were both playing the same thing. The tune is such a winner, nobody minded, although at times we were ready to defenestrate it. Now we can play it in our sleep, and of course I never miss an opportunity to point out how great it sounds with just the bass and drum box. “We don’t need no stinkin’ rhythm player,” I chortled. Actually, I hope I can fall asleep with that tune rattling in my brain.
Like most Blues, we can easily stretch each tune out to six or seven minutes, meaning we have enough for a “half gig” any time he feels ready. He brings in a few more tunes each time more toward Bluegrass than Blues, but I point out that Bluegrass is probably the only bass more boring than country. Still, my overriding concern is to get into a playing band. Some of the music tonight used the accordion thingee that he plays, the one that changes keys with a series of wooden plugs.
Alain called about Wednesday, I may go down there to “house sit”. They cannot find anyone they can trust to watch their house while the windows are being replaced. If you knew the system here, it would not surprise you that they would call me in from thirty miles away. They let Joe’s wife do it once, but with all the kids and toys that had to be hauled along, it is better to call me. Unless I have a major upset, I can help them out but I must be out of there by 4:00 p.m. to make my band lesson. I think that may just work.
You know, I have to say something. On Limewire today I found a couple versions of music in that weird wma format that requires a “license” to unload. If anyone is unfamiliar with Limewire, its very purpose is to get free music, to download music that has not been paid for. Since nobody would pay for anything on Limewire, the situation suggests some idiot is trying to “share” a licensed format. As I said in 1997, if it was not for the Internet, only one person in 10,000 would have a computer. Like, what would they do with it?
Last, I found an old recording of me playing a perfect version of Beethoven’s Fur Elise. That is the only piano tune I have ever played perfectly, and it took me four years of daily practice to do it. I could not possibly play it that way again, for I was just 26 at the time. I’ve always toyed with the idea of inventing an electric bass line to that haunting melody, and I do believe I have something that works. It [the technique, not the bass line] came to me while listening to Kansas’ “Dust In the Wind”.
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