The Hungarian music has been educational even if it falls short on the inspirational. It is a curious experiment in the export of old American habits, that is, the Hungarians with an extra zloty to start with have learned what sells to the masses. You’d think only Americans would be dumb enough to buy entire albums to get one or two good tracks. Not so. But what I really mean is the way our culture has leaked through enough to stifle innovation. Like the town I grew up in, they seem to have just copied what others did—thirty years too late, but what the hell, the yokels will never know any better.That concept could seem odd to people who’ve never known any other way of doing things, but the Americanisms are definable and not necessarily the best. I look at the song titles and see the same proportional repetition of simple words. “Andjele” must be some sexy dame. “Daj Daj” is probably bye-bye and there are far too many songs about how tough music is (which is an equally boring theme in Hungarian). The tunes are all around 3:22 minutes long. Guitar dominates the music with licks right out of Led Zep, the vocalists are Karaoke grade with reverb and the lyrics sound like they are rattling off lists of infectious diseases. “Zivota Osten Milecteus”
While this went on, I sliced and diced that Free Credit Report Dot Com song. It is in G major and the guy messes up right away. “They say a man should always dress” begins okay but then he accents the wrong syllable and they have to drop a half-beat and cut out the word “up”. I know this because it is hard to play two different notes on the same bass string.
Pudding-Tat is slowly returning to her routines. When I thought she was gone, I had put her food dish outside for the other cat. This is brand “Friskie” with chicken, beef flavors and a “touch of outdoor greens”. Can’t fool the cat, he had picked around all the green pellets, pointedly leaving them alone. That poor cat is either Hungarian or doesn’t watch enough television to know what he’s supposed to like.
In the ominous trends department, I got a telemarketing call from a number that traced back to Delta Airlines. The catch is that Delta doesn’t telemarket and were very interested to learn about this event. It was only a matter of time until somebody figured out how to pull that one off. I still don’t like Delta. One, for canceling my air miles after three years (it wasn’t part of the original deal). Two, they messed me up on a transfer in Denver. You want to hear about that? Okay.
I normally take only carry-on since I’m traveling, not immigrating. I had a box of Motorolas (short-wave radios) that needed gentle care not normally associated with baggage handling crews. When I boarded the Denver-Miami connection, they had let a gang of old farts exceed their space by cramming bags of golf clubs into the overheads. My box would not fit under the seat and they would not let me carry it on my lap. They were insisting I put it in baggage where I felt they should have insisted one of the golfers (who were breaking the rules) put his clubs in baggage. I didn’t know airline regulations were first come first serve. See how the pricks got me? How did they know those fragile radios were worth a fortune and were irreplaceable in Venezuela, where it can be an expensive overnight wait for baggage that does not outright disappear? Where I had five people waiting on me in Caracas? Up yours, Delta Airlines.
I’m mostly moved but still have not gutted the old place. In the end I did not get a lot of help. What’s more, I may have thrown my back out slightly. That’s all I need. I could not perform tonight because my equipment is still the old full size and weight for a three piece (which requires four trips to the car). I wonder if Capt. Sam is ever going to use that big screen TV I gave him months ago? Also, in closing I may have been hasty about the popularity of this neighborhood. That assessment was partially based on riding my bike past. It may, for reasons unknown, may have recently become a very popular area. Around half the units are occupied and parking is already getting tight. The few vacant lots are already sprouting no parking signs.
Eric came by for a visit and to share some news. Yes, this place is the prime showpiece of the trailer park. He walked me around to show where the property lines were and how to operate the automatic sprinkler system. I got twenty years of history in a half-hour, including the fact that the original garden hedge was put up because of the lack of privacy from Canadian passersby. Eric patrols the place and is on first names with the entire park, knowing exactly who is supposed to be around.
I must invest in some hedge clippers soon, the jungle is encroaching fast. Eric also notes that the flower trees (that’s what I call them) are starting to reach into the public roadway, so those have to be hammered back. That means soon or a citation from the city. So, the garden is popular and everybody around here likes it. Wallace will be pleased to find that out. Myself, yard work is too suburban but I’ll do it if I have to. The patio is fenced with beautiful brickwork posts, then somebody put plastic trellises between them. And yes, that was a garden in the back although it hasn’t much been used. Eric said there were once some huge trees on the corners that got taken out by a hurricane, “Needed two days just to haul the logs away.”
He is also buddies with the owner of the gambling casino and the security people who drive past just a few yards away across the side road. Apparently they let him know if anything is out of kilter or anyone is casing the joint. Remember, this area is a private enclave in the middle of a city and you still have to lock up your bicycle at night. I took a hint from Eric and I’ll buy an umbrella for the patio asap.
