One year ago today: December 21, 2017, born poor.
Five years ago today: December 21, 2013, defining "music"
Nine years ago today: December 21, 2009, the first Taurus.
Random years ago today: December 21, 1981, we were still kids.
A discovery, by the blog that dares. I’ve found out that inside the insulated and soundproofed practice room, it is possible to play the bass loud enough to knock the bookshelf off the outside wall. First you hear a thumping noise, but what the heck, the neighbor drives a postal truck. So you keep on playing for an hour and decide it is tea time. This is the sight that greets you in the kitchen-slash-dining area. About 200 pounds of books on the sofa and sprawled across the floor. Now that, peeps, is bass playing as it should be.
That's your headline story of the day from the blog that dares. The only blog that dares to not discuss certain topics in any detail but still sport a massive readership. I wonder if there is an award for that?
It fell directly on the sofa, where some fragile materials, including light shades, were stored. A lucky break, the shelf, as you see, was long enough to straddle the sofa arms and nothing was broken. In some circles, like up near Nashville, this is considered “an omen”. Yeah, that I should have two cups of tea, go finish playing, and then deal with the situation. This is considered “procrastination”.
The yard work is proceeding in the cold weather. It’s pleasant by mid-afternoon. Here is a picture of some of the plants found along the north fence line. These are slated to be moved to the south, where they might eventually provide summer shade. I know nothing of transplanting and have already forgotten much of the information on these trees from Agt. R. He says they are only spindly now due to competition for sunlight. They will flesh out into beauties once moved to a good location.
The left panel is some European native tree with a fancy name. The middle panel is one of three live oak trees, at least I think they are live because they are green in the middle of winter. The last is a middle-eastern ornamental called a Loquat. Apparently fruit-bearing, it is slated for the prime location in front of the kitchen window. I’m slowing bringing home landscaping bricks a few at a time. The front yard is measured out for two 8-foot diameter circles for the birds on the north, the tree to the south.
Tasmanian poppy field.
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It’s Friday, it’s late, I’m wide awake. And my books are all in a row. So, I think, why not use my old tactic when I meet a girl for the first time, but use it on the new guitar player. This is where you show up early and see what is really going on. So, out to Auburndale, where he said they had a gig, but then never called me to say where. Ah, but he does not know thanks to my sidecar, I know where all side roads are in that little city and I found it on the second try. It’s called the Idle Zone and when you are parked across the street, the GPS says you are 10.2 miles away. This is a promo picture of the same band with different members. The guitarist is furthest back, working the distortion pedal.
So how was the music? Terrible. It was a five piece group in a room that might need a duo. And the song list was 1980 barroom. Not one personality on stage and even the banter was trite and rehearsed. The drum set was clearly purchased from a catalog and the band was so loud the servers asked some customers to write down their order. This presents a quandry. Does the new guitarist want out of that, or does he expect me to step back into a style of music I have not touched since 1986?
I didn’t even bother to take a picture. The crowd was mainly friends and relatives, its an age group I very rarely associate with mainly due to lack of common interests. Even so, very few were paying much attention. Since it was their last set (they only play until 9:00PM), I heard only their last set. It’s a band sound I remember from my teen days. Each player pushing his own envelope, but washing each other out. And my worst fear is confirmed. The song list was also 1980. “Freebird”, “Pride & Joy”, “Steamroller Blues”.
That’s a curious mix for another reason. For all the people who will state they like the Blues, I have yet to meet anyone who does so except in a saloon when the band starts playing some. That’s correct. I’ve never heard them listen to it at home, they own no Blues CDs, the buttons on their car radio are not set to it. I surmise anybody who says they like the Blues would also say some of their best friends are black. And if there are any Blues clubs in central Florida, I’ve never even driven past them.
[Author’s note: the government has announced a new GPS system with better capabilities. That means, no doubt, that it will be able to track you wherever you go. If the old system was good enough to target weapons, then it was always accurate enough for its intended usage. Thanks to a combination of educational indoctrination and Internet snooping, the government has learned it can get away with levels of intrusion and surveillance it could only have dreamed of before. I predict John Q. Public is about to find out the hard way what these “better capabilities” are, usually by a knock on his door.]
ADDENDUM
Still in the mood, I dropped into the Fubar. The Friday Karaoke is the weirdo community but they are harmless. What’s weird is there are many female couples and the married men still come around trying to be “just friends”. Of course, this does not work. I’m well-known since I’ve played there, jammed there, and do my experimental Karaoke there because everyone else is so terrible nobody criticizes my mistakes. For the first time, I sang “Mama’s Broken Heart”. It was okay, but the recording is one crazy version I do not like at all.
How did that go? Better than the band at the other place. The second best-looking gal in the audience bought me a drink. She was there with her wife. The best looker was on the other side of me. She was with some guy who had on more makeup than she did. I asked the Karaoke lady about her and she said it was not the husband or boyfriend. But that sometimes she comes in by herself. I put in a request that she tell me next time that happens.
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