It was so nice outside, I started cleaning up the windstorm trash. No need to remind me that my days of heavy yard work are over. I hauled four trash bags out, a lot of it heavy from the rains that followed. See the tree branches fallen over the barbeque and the vines in the back. The branches go, but that vine is so nice I’ll wait till Wallace gets here to decide.
What you see here is just the leaves, I already raked out all the wet newspapers, plastic bags and litter from the storm. Remind me never to get a yard that requires weekend work. Wallace seems to enjoy it and never complain. But I’ve spent two whole days on it and I don’t like it much.Then again, have you seen the stats? Droves of people about to retire don’t have enough cash to live on and one in three will owe more on their house than it is worth. That house was their retirement fund and now they have something in common with Enron. Ha, serves them right. This will continue at least another 19 years starting next month. Sorry, no mercy, that generation was repeatedly warned about tying all their money up in a house, forcing prices into the cosmos so real people couldn’t thrive.
Other than the fact this place has to be heated in the winter and cooled in the summer, it will continue to be a real gem if we give it long enough. I’ve concluded a major phase of looking around using the scooter, and lot rents in the vicinity have skyrocketed into the $500 range. Anything left below that figure is like entering the combat zone. The least I found was $435 per month and it came with drunks in the afternoon, kids screaming in the street, dogs barking and cop cars at the corner. It reminded me of the Jacksonville Greyhound depot without the hoodsters. And the corporate shaft artists.
Another sell-out crowd at bingo, I wish I knew what made it work. Put another way, if I knew one single thing for certain in this universe, I would bet every last cent I own on it. I left early, dropping past the book exchange to get a “romance mystery” novel. This afternoon I opted for a hot bath, which I normally associate with having to haul a tub of water into the house and heat it. Yes, I did that back on the farm and the way the economy is going, you never know.Not enough people appreciate automatic heat. It may be intriguing how few or how many high rollers of the last generation finally pick up on how to chop their own firewood. I spent mucho wasted youthful years chopping and stacking mostly birch and pine, wood that is about 75% water and has to be stacked up for two years before burning. That means when you move away, like my family always had to, the woodpile stayed behind along with all the hard work.
The wood stoves were a bizarre piece of work. They had to be located carefully along with a stovepipe to the chimney. If you positioned the dampers right, a never-ending chore, a single load at dusk would keep the stove warm all night. You can tell by the number of pets surrounding the oven in the morning. The stoves often had attached water tanks if you really needed warm water but there is no truth to the claims these tanks ever got enough water comfortably hot.
ADDENDUM
I thoroughly scrutinized the successful New Year’s gig. The Fishman PA is a must soon as I can afford it. I have no competition in my arena and I’d like to find a second location, preferably on the beach with the better tips. I shouldn’t say no competition since there’s Lou and Eddie. Lou only needs two friends and 35 minutes to tune up to play three songs. And Eddie is the master of the 11-1/2 bar blues in 7/8 timing. Their strong point is that they are, like myself, showmen.
No matter how it shakes out, modern bass lines don’t grab like the classics. I’m looking closely at the era when almost anything you did on bass was new. Those wonderful bass lines are an essential for my act. I’m looking at “I Fought The Law” and “The Letter” to see what can be resurrected. One department where nobody competes with my live show is with computers. No, I don’t mean backing tracks. Those don’t require a computer.
Think of southern musical society this way. A southern gentleman has a computer to get money. Bubba has a computer to get a job. And white trash has a computer to get a date. Another dividing line is how the electric bass is played. I always play mine in a horizontal position, the way the good Lord intended. One just does not electrify a standup bass, that’s akin to thinking a tattoo makes you distinct. (Maybe to the coroner?) And the one sure way to let the world know you are gender-confused is to play a strapless e-bass sitting down resting it on your thigh, next to a guitarist of wide and toothy grin.
Here’s a thought. John Travolta, who states that he is “very concerned” about global warming, owns five jets. I'll bet he never gets anyone to read his blog containing pictures of his yard rakings . . . .
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