One year ago today: January 1, 2017, it was a grim cycle.
Five years ago today: January 1, 2013, the absence of ‘on’.
Nine years ago today: January 1, 2009, reads like a calendar entry.
Random years ago today: January 1, 1977, very early edition.
This marks the fifteenth year this good old blog has been computerized. What? Oh, I didn’t say it had been posted that long. Just that it is all keyed in somewhere if I ever get around to formatting it half decently. That has to take place before any posting, and recall that digital photos didn’t arrive until years later. But look at the evolution from a text only publication. Remember, like Michener, although based mostly on fact, this is a work of fiction and not to be interpreted as representative of daily American life. For example, it is 47 years since I’ve watched television. That’s a most un-American activity.
See this picture? That’s what I mean when I say the doof that came up with this idea needs to be locked up for his own safety. Why doesn’t somebody tell the newspapers how annoying these things are? More than likely, they already know. Notice to advertisers: I purposely avoid buying from companies who use these irritating things. You can’t open the paper into sections when they are present. My personal opinion is that all newspaper advertising should be in one section, at the center of the folds. So it becomes the easiest part of the paper to remove and throw away.
Some say that would destroy the newspapers because nobody would advertise. To them I say they don’t understand the bastard-rat mentality of American advertisers.
This morning my phone started ringing. New Year’s day check in, I call it. Just a different and simple tradition. Everybody seems okay right across the land, although a few have not called in yet. I’ve decided on a couple small trips this month, maybe back to the bookstore or to Punta Gorda. If this new duo flies—and I emphasize that it is definitely headed in the right direction—it shunts everything else to the back burner. I feel compelled to remind all that this is not a big flashy arena show band, but a local duo playing music for a generation on the way out. It’s a sane project with sensible expectations and there are a lot of other musicians who should be so realistic. The 70s are never coming back.
You’ll get pictures of the band soon enough, she is calling for two practices per week. That’s a positive and stays so as long as progress is conducive. Right now, I’m going shopping at Wal*mart and so should you. The rest of the day is slated for music studies. Concerning television, I don’t feel like I’ve missed a thing. You know, even when I did watch television, it was only here and there over a period of maybe four years. My disinterest in TV is not due to environment, as all my siblings became addicted to it since the instant they saw one. No, in this case, “addicted” is not too strong a word.
[Author’s note: It’s a minor point, but for any students of English out there, I’ve been told this blog is an excellent way to study the grammatical formations of the common language or ‘street English’. You won’t find any glaring errors and many of the sentences that don’t follow the rules strictly represent the overriding principle that it is permissible to present English in a non-standard manner if it is an effective way to convey a given message.
Be aware, however, that the certain rules are deliberately broken where I feel the material looks better on display. After all, a blog is intended to be read on-line, not on hard-copy.]
Cabin in Siberia.
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Shown here, I’m not a millionaire yet. The significance of the numbers show on my ticket here is: nothing. They are quick picks. The prize was $380 million so by tomorrow it will approach a half-billion. You realize that my winning the big one would spell the end of this blog. My loyal readers would say don’t do it, the blog is too important. Well, not all my readers are all that loyal. The Twitter thing cost me a thousand hits a month. It’s returning, but what a fickle lot.
In addition to my analysis of the rehearsal y’day, I took a couple hours to zip through my own song list, not all of which is suitable for duo work. I’m picking the ones that require the least change and in the process, I’m reminded how few people I’ve ever met who understand the process. Most guitar players think “arranging” means they sit down and adapt the song to the way they spontaneously play it on guitar. Like they’re a natural or something. Besides being beyond arrogant, I’ve never met one who can do it any differently.
My intention is to be ready if the new lady covers more ground than anticipated. She’s already latching onto the method of playing to the beat instead of the riff. Once you get this, it changes the way you play forever. You become the desired accompanist. Note, if you learn each tune exactly like the MP3, which is not hard to do, you can compel me to play it [on the bass] exactly like the original. Mind you, there’s no need at this juncture to tell her about that. I’m convinced this new band could grow within a short time to a dominant position somewhere around here—if I find the right venues. The other side of that coin is that nothing in America ever goes right by itself for very long. It’s the way the capitalists have designed their tax and legal systems. There is no point of comfort in a capitalist system. Somebody up to their neck in debt is always out to squeeze you for a penny.
As for the guitar strumming the beat of the song instead of memorizing the actual guitar part, I suppose there’s equal arguments for either method. But before the argument even begins, someone would have to answer me the question of why knock yourself out learning guitar for so little extra gain when playing the rhythm is not only what is required, but also preferred? The answer, of course, is someone who doesn’t know the difference. That’s where I may have had an advantage. I had piano lessons, so I early realized I was learning a collection of classical pieces that did me no good when it came to chording along. After all, is not playing classical just soloing on the piano?
But that’s where the comparison ends. Even mediocre of bad pianists would, musically speaking, be far better musicians than all but the best guitar players. Just read the music scores, you’ll see.
Last Laugh
(When you see it.)
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