April 18, 2016

Yesteryear
One year ago today: April 18, 2015, ponytail, carelessly tied.
Five years ago today: April 18, 2011, my first display success.
Nine years ago today: April 18, 2007, no personal acquaintances . . .
Random years ago today: April 18, 2012, back to 1%.

MORNING
           I replaced the [missing] microphone cable, that’s $14 for a foot long wire. It converts XLR to phono, or in layman’s terms, it changes that fancy 3-prong European mic cable down to a guitar jack. I decided against an adapter with no cable, as they are too heavy to be left plugged in. This meant an hour in Guitar Center, that last surviving music store in town. A tour of the acoustic room tells me that guitars have doubled in price recently. What? Oh, I was in there pricing ukuleles. They run from $79 used up to a $480 “concert” model.

           You can keep them, I’ll stick with my guitar. They are too tinny sounding to ever be a major stage instrument. Same with mandolins and a lot of banjo. The novelty doesn’t last one set. I’ve long been of the opinion that all the really catchy banjo riffs have already been composed. It’s like bluegrass, once you’ve heard the top few hits, the rest of it is repetitious. Like my guitar playing for now. I said, for now.
           I’ve selected six tunes for the next show. Three for my set and three for backup. It’s not my best six, musically. Showy tunes, where in the past I’ve thrown in added features, like showy endings. All of it, audience-appeal tactics. So even if the same guy shows up looking to outdo me let’s just say he only played three tunes and I saw his momentum was already weakening. We’ll see. I need that show just as bad as he does.

           The “drywall” meeting went well. JZ has installed it before and I’ve done small areas. My estimate is based on 1,000 square feet with 6 rooms seven feet tall. Including the partitions, I calculate we will need 55 sheets of gyproc to cover 2,600 square feet. JZ says a “lift” of 48 panels will fit in the pickup. If, in fact, the materials to fix the entire place amounts to just $587.32, we can take that out of petty cash. Hell, we’ve got an uncashed check in the glove compartment for three times that.
           Problem, we can’t get out to inspect the place until later in the week. That’s okay, prices remain falling and the seller’s insistence on cash only makes me a very serious contender. As long as there is minimal termite damage. Closer inspection of the satellite photos and a roundup of all the different sites listing this property show that it has recently had occupants. You know how important that is to us. We must be able to live there while we do the renovations. The emerging snag is that I can't find out what is wrong with the property. There is always something wrong.

           As a treat, here is somewhat older photo of the interior. Once again, the previous owner was doing a remodel, but ran out of money. That furniture is too nice to be in storage, is what I’m sayin’. And is that a you-know-what plant in the background?
           As for the $500 in drywall to spiff this place up, hell, I was planning on spending twice that just to paint the place. Still no news on the axle problem with JZ’s truck. I think they are stalling him.
           I further proceeded to cost out the best available lethal gas termite and pest control, the one where they tent the house. For this size place, the cost is a mere $1,350 comes with a warranty. In all, I think a first-hand inspection will sway JZ’s fear that it is a falling down heap. Then again, that’s what he thinks of any wood-frame structures. Somebody tell him the rest of us can’t afford to live in marble palaces like he does.

Wiki picture of the day.
Warthog.
NOON
           I have more information on the house. It has had a regularly paid electricity bill for seven years up to just over a year ago. This is not good news, since we’ve learned that if you can’t find anything wrong with a house, it is in or near a violent crime neighborhood. Now, that might seem hypocritical because I live less than a mile from Federal highway with its reported 16 violent crimes per day. I put up my own address and would not move here based on that.

           Next, I did a fast one. I dialed up the pool hall in Mulberry and asked if anyone knew who lived at that address. A guy got on the phone and said a lady was indeed living there until last year (confirming the above) and that since then she has been using it to store furniture. However, since the guy had an accent, I did not ask him about the neighborhood. This all adds up, but it is telling me the place is on the wrong side of the tracks.

           Some say I’ve been quiet about the Trump candidacy. That’s because it is a done deal. He’s either in or we get some kind of revolution in this country, hopefully peaceful. The insiders who ganged up on his inexperience missed the point. They represent want people want to get rid of, and while the process is mysterious to me, the Republican party signed their own death warrant with some kind of stunt up in Colorado. They don’t dare pull that again, but if they don’t, it’s goodbye to their meal tickets.
           But not mine. Here is a photo of Mojo. It’s a Spanish influenced marinade of bitter orange, this one with garlic. I’m not into marinades which they say throw out. No way, I use it as a base for everything from sweet and sour sauce to salad dressings. And this time, it is chicken in a sauce of Mojo, turbinado, black pepper, and diced veggies. There, you hungry yet? For the record, it was not Florida, but Venezuela, that influenced my diet toward Spanish-style cooking. Now, be careful if you try this marinade to avoid the ones with corn syrup and artificial flavorings. In fact, avoid food that say “natural” flavorings while you are at it. If it is appears as an ingredient near the end of the list, it’s there because the law says it must be and you should not be eating it.

AFTERNOON
           So you’ll not conclude I’m twiddling my thumbs waiting on the new starter, here is a project taking shape. The broken windscreen on the sidecar. I saved the metal frame, but cannot find the broken segment of plexiglass. Last day I planned to use that frame as a basis to building a better fold-down windscreen. Better, because it will better fit the unusual contours of the sidecar, which is a type of bathtub shape. I probably threw the glass out when it proved impossible to repair and it was clouded with age. The standard glass from the factory bumps into the Honda handlebars.

           But as I look at it, there is no reason to have a full sized windscreen. Like a regular motorycycle, a small screen just high enough to deflect the weather over and around the rider is sufficient. I can do this with wood, and it would be an excellent measure of how far I’ve come with robotics woodworking. Chances are, I would build a flat panel, not the curved type shown here. The reasoning is simple, follow along.

           Aerodynamics are not important, since the screen is folded down for high speed travel. The screen takes 15% of your gas mileage. When there is a passenger, it is just around town, so no big deal if the screen is up at slow speed. The sidecar is much like the rear seating in a sedan. Most of the time it never gets used, and when it is in use, the trips are normally short. The longest passenger ride in the sidecar was years ago in Colorado, on a mountain day trip to Nederland and Neversummer.
           Man, that was an epic journey. Then a year later through the same mountains through that long an empty canyon to the flats of Green River. You never get really near the hills, the highway is down the center most of the way, but that terrain is a geologists dream. You know, that was already three years ago. And I am primed for a trip somewhere this summer. People joke it down, but everybody likes Arkansas.
           Here’s a picture of what $14,000 will get you in Rison. A little estate in the country, complete with fireplace, 3 bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a huge workshed out behind. Alas, I’ve never been in Rison and it doesn’t sound like a place for much to do. The same price will get you a duplex with a wraparound porch in Monticello, 150 miles from Texarkana. These prices let me know I’ll never be homeless.

           For that matter, the nearest I’ve been is that stretch between Greenville and Texarkana, where I crossed the Mississippi and unexpectedly drove past the birthplace of Johnny Cash. For some reason, I always thought he was from Tennessee, but apparently he loathed that place. And if he could hear some of the mass-generated crap they call “new country”, he’d burn the place down.
           Interesting, prices have been plunging out that way as well. I could return to Texas tomorrow, provided I didn’t want to live in San Antone. Florida is usually a bellwether state so I don’t usually look afield until this place goes into a tailspin. Now, if I can pick up an acreage in Texas far enough from town, that’s another tale from another trailer court.

NIGHT
           All my gear is tested and ready, my set list is rehearsed. We are ready for Thursday, bring it on. I’ll be weak on the lyrics, since I’m so new on the guitar doing this that it demands far more attention than playing the same bass line. That’s a good discover in a way, because it means contrary to belief, there is no overlap between proper bass playing and guitar. I was worried about that.
           True, I’ve played private parties before, but there is a major hurdle between thumbing chords by the backyard pool and facing a group of potentially critical listeners. That’s using an unfamiliar PA system in the dark after a few brews. One thing you can’t fake on stage is familiarity with your gear. That casual manner you see on stage from most professionals is probably not a matter of chance.
           I should take a day off, probably Wednesday before the show, it is always a good idea. This episode is getting a lot of attention because there is a lot at stake. It could be a flop, it could be the next Jimbos. From what I saw, they don’t have anything there most nights. I’m not going to ignore a potential gig on Las Olas Boulevard and that is that.

ADDENDUM
           Here’s a Wiki photo that didn’t make top billing today. It is by some guy called William-Adolphe Bouguereau. The painting is called. “The Wave” which tips us off the guy was very judicious in picking his backgrounds. As usual, these artists lacked the money to get any real babes to pose in the nude. Note the frump and start-up belly happening.

           International critics say this is not a nude, but “nude art”. The distinction, they claim, is that the face of the model does not show her interacting with anyone. Sorry to hear that, old Bill.
           That reminds me of that urban legend of the photographer who did a 21-book set of nudes called, “The Ages of Women”. Volume fourteen sold a million copies. And will somebody please tell the media we are tired of stories of older women now complaining they slept with their college professors. It’s always the one that got dumped and didn’t work out later in life. Fox News, we see the connection, now move on.

           As for this model, well, she did get beat out by the Warthog. BWAAAAA-ha-ha-ha.


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