It was another day in the shop, looking. I got people telling me do this, do that. Somebody tell them writing is a tough business. I’m up to the challenge but it still takes time. My goal is not poetry reading at some leftovers spot off 545 or becoming a hack writer for the next travel magazine. What I do requires infinitely more effort than booking myself at a club. One of the bands seeking a bassist replied. I asked for their list and got Hotel California and Mary Jane, proof that every band takes time to learn what not to play. At least around here. I know, you go through three phases: playing what you can, then what you want and finally what the audience wants. You just never saw a place like Florida stuck so long at phase two. It is as bad as the Hippies old song list, so thin you have to put on one slice of bread and bend it over.
I downloaded the new bands list and have most of the chops. There is something familiar about the spelling and order that came over the e-mail, but the name is Latino so I doubt I’ve met these guys. They play “Girl from Impanema”. Impenama. Impameeny. You know, the song that’s been putting beer-drinkers to sleep for forty years.
I may consider [playing] Jimbo’s again this Friday, just for the fun of it. The Thanksgiving caterer really was not a professional chef. Fooled me. He is a regular patron who I never saw him because he is there during the day. He just likes to entertain, with a stainless steel barbeque he carries in the truck.
I’ve also been thinking about that fantastic fifteen minute jam session with Gary, the harmonicist. He proved instantly adaptable to every cue, indicating he’s done some serious stage work in the past. That, and I’ve got Jimbo’s trained that when that train rolls past, the next song is by Johnny Cash.
Okay, what is the last thing that anybody could possibly screw up? Coffee filters, right? Publix generic brand managed it. The pores clog up after the first cup and the remainder of the brew stays floating in the basket. You have to puncture the filter, then you get grains in your morning brew. Proof, once again, that it ain’t screwed up until it’s Florida screwed up.
Mondays are getting to be fun at the shop. During the orientation for his new petition business, Fred makes it very clear there is a week holdback and you do not get paid unless you hand in new petitions for the previous week. There is always so overweight, over-age mouthy woman who didn’t get it. Then they threaten to quit, which means it will be three weeks until they get paid. Every Monday we hear these women try to tell Fred that he said something else. He gives the same lecture to every class.
What? Harmonicist. One who plays a harmonica. What’s wrong with that? You got cellist, pianist, and flautist. Er, poetic license. I’m not changing it because it says what I meant.
