One year ago today: February 16, 2017, around the house.
Five years ago today: February 16, 2013, WIP
Nine years ago today: February 16, 2009, the trouble with drivers.
Random years ago today: February 16, 2015, Winter Haven by train.
What’s this photo? The centerpiece of one of my kitchen walls. It is a clock with a dial depicting the eastern US shortly after the colonies formed. That round spot at the bottom (I’ve removed the orange price sticker) is a pendulum that swings past the hole. It was broken, so I got the clock for six bucks. I had it working within ten minutes. The mechanism is and ordinary quartz with a small magnet to swing the fob. The hands were also broken, now fixed with a strategic daub of clear-drying glue.
No direct progress on anything as I spent the day either shopping or studying. I recently bought some books on genetic theories I’ve wanted to get to. Not feeling up to snuff, I bought some lumber supplies and without unloading the car, went directly to the coffee shop. Good move, but I better kick whatever bug I’ve got. That sound wall has already cost me $200 in materials. It’s worth it, since the price of a two bedroom in good condition is close to four times what I paid for the place. I talked to JZ and Agt. M, both concerned with my lack of communication.
It’s the new band. To do it right, you have to ride herd from the very beginning. It’s a job to keep things on track. It might sound democratic to let things take their course, but that’s setting yourself up for the future problem of the band becoming something nobody wanted. Tell ‘em, Hippie. This ties into what I’ll say next, but one tune that would be a great match is “Obladi Oblada”. But that could be a very dicey thing to do in this era of the thought police.
I agree with private ownership, but not the kind where the system can be used to corner a market by buying the rights and restricting the supply. Like the Hunt Brothers. If what they did, quite legally, could be considered illegal because others didn’t like it, well, how about blocking music in a similar way? I could see royalties if the other party created and sold copies for a profit. But the copyright types are trying to make it illegal to even perform a version of the song live. (With books and software, they have in the past tried to make it illegal to resell or even give away the material.
Take the poor suffering artist in this photo. While I can see the argument that any time somebody makes money off the owner’s material, he might not like it. But music is a realm where the live performances is a great form of advertising. To adopt the view that other bands can’t perform it live is neither good business or clear thinking. It sounds like I have a vested interest, but my position is clear. I do not get paid because of my song list. I get paid only for my performing, not one penny because somebody else wrote the music. It would be different if I recorded my performance and broadcast it. But I don’t. I’ll stop here with that.
Chateau kitchen.
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This was not my best day. I got up at 5:41AM with a mild headache that persisted throughout. That includes following my prescription, which contains an aspirin blood thinner. When I get aches and pains, I pay attention. So most of the day was getting light shopping done. Take a look at this little gem. It bears no identifying mark, so possibly it could be hand made in the US of A. This photo does not do it justice. The flowers are hand-painted in enamel with gold leaf edges. Extremely delicate work. I gave it to an artist lady I know for her paint brushes. When I was twelve years of age, I knew a girl who could make things like this, but thought nothing of it at the time.
I’m reading another tale, “Nashville Chrome”. It concerns that family musical acts that didn’t make it big in the early days. Myself, I don’t feel much empathy to the recording side of music. That’s what all the fuss is about, I say. That’s where you find the backstabbing and corruption. Sure, when I was a teen, I wanted to cut one record and never work another day in my life, but that is the Disneyland view of what is involved. This book is about a fictitious family who had perfect harmonies that nobody could emulate. It turns out it came from listening to the whine of the saws in their daddy’s lumber mill.
Give me time to get into the book. I don’t have to be convinced there are many excellent acts out there who never made it. Musical stardom is mostly a matter of luck and who your parents are. I got a late start, musically. I was already ten years old before I even considered music as something I could do. True, I was in my own band three years later, but my contemporary, Tommy James, was already on the charts. This got me to walk to the counter, get a third coffee refill, and plunk down for another hour.
ADDENDUM
Later in the afternoon, I got energetic enough to unload the car and look around the shed for my PA tripod. No luck. It’s around but damn, how could I misplace something that size? This upcoming weekend I’ve scheduled a full dress rehearsal. After a few Miami horror scenes, I no longer trust anyone to have a good stage act. I want to see it first to determine everything from their demeanor to how often they look at me for cues. All I can say is never rely on watching me as a substitute for not learning the song. On stage I make things look easy and I also purposely do things the audience is not expecting. That means I don’t often repeat on stage, so there is no comfort zone up there. Learn your parts.
To make things worse, Behringer equipment lacks an on-off switch. See photo. So every time you are compelled to fish around to find that unweildy wall wart to operate the dam thing. Their design department must hire the rejects from the firms to make measuring tapes so that the numbers are upside down to right-handed carpenters. Or those power strips that grip the prongs so hard that trying to unplug with one hand rips the power strip right off the wall. How about those dorks who invented the plastic toothpaste tube that can’t be curled up as the product is used? They’re all in it together, you know.
I say the study is flawed. Those [numbers] are, I suppose, where people who work for a living feel content. Purdue did not specify whether that was total or take-home, nor how the money was acquired. I know that I feel contented with much less when I don’t work for a living, meaning there is also a comfort level not related to high income. In my books, broad comparisons are risky and averages are misleading. The average weight is bogus if you are the only skinny person in a room of fat slobs.
There are no jobs in this area that pay $95,000 per year except the government and upper management and I can’t think of anyone I know that would gain any contentment by comparing themselves to that lot. How content would people feel if they were on welfare in Hawaii, where the last time I looked was the equivalent of a $20 per hour job, something like that?
Last Laugh
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