All day at the shop thanks to viruses. Things are back in operational mode even though there’s things I’d like to change, for instance, a firewall that protects both directions instead of only incoming. Looking at the technology I am forced to question why they make it so incredibly complicated. I’m looking for a simple device to couple into the network between the router and my hub and the specification sheets were seven pages long.Kinko’s has again raised their prices. The rumor is it costs $1 per page to print. While I still don’t know what Megabite charges (I will soon), I do know that I’ve had an upsurge of business who complain about the prices at both places. Megabite’s coffee was $3 but it was very good coffee. Still, Kinko’s charging $15 per hour does not make sense when their clientele makes half or they’d have their own computer.
Wallace went around town on his own today. His new car is making a rumbling noise in the drive train and we can’t narrow it down. It could be anything from an unbalanced tire to the differential. There is no sense driving it any distance until we find out, either. That car has to last a long time.
Jimbo’s was dead tonight while Boston Johnny’s was packed. I made half my quota. Arnel did not show as planned. My lighter lounge music goes well with the dart club that meets until 9:30 P.M. and I’ve been looking at finding a paying gig again. This will be tough if I tackle it head on so I’ll have to push the angle of novelty. I keep an eye on the musician’s want ads and I estimate the surplus of non-singing guitar players to be around 65 in the general area. This economy cannot afford someone who just stands there and plays guitar, and although there are exceptions, that is all most of them can do. Florida is also the home of the guitar player with no personality or stage persona.
I’m partially referring to the auditions I did last year. What a waste of time that was. (I now understand the same pack of losers answer every ad because so many bands have complained about it.) I also criticize Florida guitarists for sounding like they all had the same music teacher. All the ones I’ve met are cherry pickers, looking for a band that plays the same music so all they have to do is show up and play. This town is full of guitarists who want to play in a band but leave the PA, sound gear, lighting, transportation and practicing up to somebody else. Part of my angle is that I have all the equipment needed to put on a show right now and most guitarists do not. There has to be a market for somebody with a viable show and I have no particular preference where I play.
Pricing is trickier. I remember when I made the standard $100 per night using only personal gear. I would consider that much a treat these days. I side with the musicians who say not to play for less, but my reason is really because it is just not worth it for the guy who has to own and haul all the gear. Still, I think my show is worth at least the hundred and I must look further afield.
Now for an unsavory topic. I’m driving home after the gig and who do I see stranded on the side of the road in the wrong neighborhood but the Peanut-Boy himself. It was dark, raining and boiling hot. In the half-streetlight he partially recognizes me and thinks he’s been saved. I drove past and left him standing there. Good, I see I’ve got your interest.
The guy is around five-three and fifty-three. He stocks one of those small-scale vending routes with candy machines, hence “Peanut-Boy”. He samples too much of the product, because even though he has no neck, when he buys a shirt that fits his fat gut, it is always three sizes to big for his neck. Some may I’m cruel, but you don’t know the facts. It would have been worse to stop, for you see, the Peanut-Boy needs time alone to think of his behavior.
For example, he needs to consider why he waits until my gig is over and just the staff and I want to leave. The Peanut-Boy sees I have to pack my equipment so he stands two feet in front of the door, making me struggle to get around him for all five trips I have to make. Ah, some of you are wondering, why not ask him to move? If that is what you think, should not be reading this blog, you should be teaching Sunday School. You do not give a person who is intentionally blocking your path the dignity of acknowledging he is in the way. I was raised around such people. And I saw an entire nation of people like this. It is called India. They are just waiting for you to say something.
