One year ago today: December 29, 2015, yes, I have the log.
Five years ago today: December 29, 2011, the social network of Georgia.
Nine years ago today: December 29, 2007, Lark, my last real guitar player.
Random years ago today: December 29, 2014, the one that got away.
MORNING
It was a rough Xmas for some, the news today is dominated by the death of Julia Roberts. (We find out later that was fake news, it was her sister that died.) I’d pay it all no nevermind except they insist she died of a broken heart, which in Hollywood talk means OD. I’m no believer in the supernatural, but I assure you it is quite possible to go this way. I’ve seen the light three times. You have to kick back and say, “Not now”, but it would be so easy to just sink further. I’m no namby-pamby fishing for sympathy, I’m just telling you what it is like.
I spent the morning fixing some electronics, a repair capability thanks thoroughly thanks to the robot club. Shown here is a broken speaker wire, inside the orange oval. These are not the type of repairs you’d normally undertake at home, but this is a novelty megaphone gift for Agt. R. A megaphone because people are prone not to listen to the guy closely enough. This repair reminded me that I do not have an adequate work desk. And that tools that ought to be out in a work shed are taking up room inside my beautiful cabin.
Calgary, Alberta.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
NOON
I’m having a go at setting the clutch cable on the Rebel, but so you know, this is a repair normally associated with a far higher-mileage machine. My Goldwing did not require any adjustment until I drove it so long, the cable broke and it was the replacement that was fine-tuned. Since I lack the stamina to work steadily, I took regular breaks to read about the ideas concerning a period of temperate climate in Antarctica. It seems evident somebody a long time ago has seen the continent without the ice shelf. The question is how long ago.
The lack of continuity in the sources of these early maps is dismaying. My personal feelings are that with the rise of civilization, there developed also a quantum leap in mankind’s ability to destroy anything that did not fit his evolving views on religion and creation. What we need is some explorer to find the vault that survived those religious purges. I’m not hopeful on that, since items like manuscripts were so rare, they tending to be kept in a few well-known locations.
Such as the library in Alexandria. These are the first thing the Islamics destroy. The thinking goes, "If it is in the Koran, we already know it. If it is not, we don’t need to know it."
Anyone who has raised unruly children will hear a familiar ring.
Of all the all, I get a call from the Hippy. I don’t identify with his gigs or music and we have totally different planes on dealing with club owners. But I listen when he tells me which places burn him. Like the places that hire you verbally then demand a business license before they’ll pay. I never question when other musicians report bad news on this count. I would quote the Devil if he told me some club stiffed him with anything but cold green cash. In my world, the onus is on the club to prove they did right, simple as that. So don’t play at a place called the “B&B Joint”. I may have that wrong. Until known otherwise, they made a musician wait and that is beneath contempt.
Later, I adjusted the clutch cable, it is now at it’s maximum length and barely releases the clutch plates. I suspect it has been replace with a cable around an inch too short, again another sign of heavy mileage. I’ve sent a letter to the DMV to see about tracing the owners. But that cable is new enough to have been replaced in the last few years. This is not a case of buyer beware. That rule does not protect the seller in the case of fraudulent misrepresentation. And there is no statues of limitation on felony.
“If You Can't Live Without Me, Why Aren't You Dead?.”
NIGHT
I went over to the jam session place to find it deserted, reminding me of my old rule to always call first. But that was fine, as I was out grocery shopping just a half-mile away and wasn’t surprised. They often cancel for the holidays. I came stopped at the old club to find that group of married gals (great bodies) a little too drunk. Don’t worry, their husbands will show up after the wives have had every single guy in the place buy them a round. Except me. (It’s disgusting, but oddly, the one with the best body consistently gets miffed when I ignore her.) Here's a picture of some rice.
The place here is not ready, but I’ve little choice but to set up a practice space in the corridor where the front door would open if the floor was level. Are you with me here? As it is, I drive to his place, where he lives with his mother, and there is no PA. His guitar is junk, he’s subject to their schedules, the neighbors always interfere (by initiating convos) when they hear the music, and nothing can remain set as everything has to be torn down between sessions because it is the other person’s living room.
What a drastic difference from back in my day where you met nothing but resistance. If I call him the kid, it is his Millennial lack of experience at what counts compared to what I went through. The guy, if he is smart, is getting decades of experience for no charge. He should be driving over here, since it is not as far as the jam session he usually attends. True, the way I’m thinking smacks of planning around what the other guy can do, a sick brand of thinking I usually associated only with Ken Sanchuk and other bohunks, but the imbalance here is so drastic it may be my only choice.
So you know, I have the full setup for practice. The 8-channel 600 Watt Gigrack PA with speakers, the repaired Fishman, plus all accessories, including but not limited to pedals, microphones, stands, lights, fog machines, power bars, right down to the coffee machine, the extra toilet paper, and the parking spaces. I thought I’d point that out. And I also have infinite patience. And to the Hippy who is paging me with gigs these days, I would mention that I live 200 miles away. That boat has sailed, dude.
ADDENDUM
Shortly I’ll present a synopsis of the expenses of 2016. Amazingly, for all the chunks of big bills I had to pay, I was only $500 over budget for the entire twelve months. Consider that remarkable if only because of the many extra trips and the fact that nothing important was short-changed. A year back, I said I’d track actually daily and weekly expenses to include matters like entertainment and tools, which formerly were only looked at to the extent of whether they were over or under allocated.
Not being sleepy, I dug out my old DVDs of the series “King of Texas”. This is precisely the type of entertainment I purposely left for my declining years. I have no regrets about missing any TV series or appearing dumb over trendy issues. Like some people I know. BWAAA-ha-ha-ha. Tomorrow I’m going to the Thrift in the morning to pick up $20 worth of free day-old specialty bread for the long weekend. What? You said the limit is two loaves. Maybe for ordinary customers. Don’t underestimate my experience with Thrifts. They save the good stuff for me.
The DVD plot is based on Shakespeare’s “King Lear”. That means little [to me] other than the plot has held attentions for centuries. More than I can say for my bass playing. Then again, I don’t have a fraction of talent compared to them guys. But guys, even the tiniest smidgen of talent beats working for a living. However, some of you should be aware few can fake it as good as I do.
Last Laugh
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