One year ago today: March 4, 2019, typical travel mix.
Five years ago today: March 4, 2015, I built this.
Nine years ago today: March 4, 2011, a predictor of events.
Random years ago today: March 4, 2001, its meaning lost in antiquity.
By now you’ve concluded still no electricity. I required basics, so I got in the Reb’s car and drove until I found an unaffected area. It was around six miles but only because I now know all the shortcuts. Everything is out, including the traffic lights. That makes it an hour trip each way. Every intersection is a 4-way stop. If any of this is repeat info, keep in mind this blog is in nearly real time and duplicate items come with the territory. It is disgusting every local radio station seems to have a blackout on what is being done about the storm damage. This has not stopped them from continually begging for donations. It’s disgusting.
Don’t expect pictures until this mess is sorted. The dogs and I have been taking super-walks, but they are not long fooled that back home is boredom in the dark. There is no Reb doing yoga, or my music studies. I’m not cutting wood in the back yard and the Reb is not decorating the front. We’ve also cleaned all perishables out of the fridge and that means a bland diet as well. It is colder inside the house than outside though we have the blankets and quilts to countermand that.
I needed money, so I coasted the Reb’s car into a station just beyond the power outage. That was one of those Murphy’s Law situations. She has never before left me an empty tank driving her to the airport, an oversight that nearly stranded me thanks to my own unreliable car. I saw the needle late Monday but thought I’d wait until morning. That’s not the only miscalculation. The kitty litter box reached its threshold, the Reb moved the emergency candles, and I got low on spot cash. Add another dozen piss-offs, like dead batteries, the small dog will turd inside if it is dark, and my emergency supply of “surprise” items seems to be somewhat diminished. What, I’m not contributing enough around here?
And did you know the hippie peace symbol is copyrighted? My god, if they are sued for royalties it will mean the end of all Woodstock revivals and bankrupt all the New Age factories.
Hotel room in Poland.
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I really was a management accountant. It is not as dull as it seems unless you make it that way. Myself, I always learned about the product. That ranges from wood panels to doggie wigs, but that is another blog post. So imagine my interest when many of my former clients began reporting a questionnaire they were instructed to “voluntarily” complete or be refused a wire transfer. The question was, “How long have the funds used in this transfer been in your account?”
“Why, 38-1/2 seconds, your Honor. Is there a problem with that?”
Be very afraid. If you don’t volunteer, you are denied what you want. Sounds Canadian to me.
By late in the day, my batteries are dead so I had little choice but to use the car charger, which meant driving around for an hour. Here’s where I risk criticism from the sort of people who become historians. The classic Alpha Male theory defines only two types. Alpha and all the rest. Too bad, because there are what I call Gamma Males, almost the opposite of Alphas. The ones who, in the end, have to beg, pay, or lie to get sex. The type who become weak historians and there are so many. Anyway, they are the ones who will say I’m lying about tonight when I tell you. But you see, they have to say that for their own sanity.
Who recalls the server gal I mentioned who is super friendly to me, but less than half my age. If I’m away a while, she greets me with a full frontal hug, but I’m not there often enough to know if it isn’t part of her job. She was sending me the message but I could never quite be sure. As I was half-way to Nashville, I stopped at a pub way out in Donelson and plugged in my transformers. Who should I see there but this gal, off duty. Um, there is no doubt now, she likes me that way. Guess what happened? Nothing. I pretended I wasn’t interested and you know why? Because whatever she sees in me is long gone. She was with an obvious group of her peers, including men, ayet she showed no hesitation to put the squeeze on me.
So, Gamma males. Am I lying? If so, what is the motive? To impress you? Don’t flatter yourselves. I’m just reporting what happened because in my life, such things are still important events.
The Taurus goes in for a transmission check next week. I drive it for a few days, then take it back. I’m using the time to work on my harmony vocals and progress is slowly opening new options. For one, up until now every tune a chose bore the constraint that it must be easy to play on guitar. I mean, consider the caliber of the players I’ve met. With that restriction removed, I am limited only by my own ability. Two of the tunes I’ve added are “Venus”, the Shocking Blue version. It’s still around in variations, but the only thing shocking blue is the eye makeup on later videos of the original. The other is a real challenge, vocally, since the vocals are so high. I have to seek a harmony in a lower octave, but I’m gaining on it.
ADDENDUM
Here’s somebody else’s work. It was an ad in the Nashville Craigslist musicians section. I don’t know who this guy is, but his imagination is on steroids. Too bad I never found a guitar player with this attitude. I was sold when, in his last paragraph, he said, “min fádlik’”, which I will let you find out what it means in which language. Why yes, didn’t you already know I speak it passably? Anyway, assuming this guy’s talent extends beyond writing incredible advertisements, here’s the content along with his posted art.
Co-write with me because your wildest dreams will instantly come true. (East Nashville)
You should probably co-write with me. Like as soon as possible. It may already be too late. But you're in luck! Because actually I have the ability to BEND TIME so it's never too late. However you should still hurry!
"Tell me more," you say? Why, I'd be delighted to. Read on...
Songwriter with six arms, three legs, fourteen brains, two hearts, nine kidneys, and twelve thousand radio cuts seeking collaborators for next level world domination by way of lyrical ingenuity and melodic hypnotizm. Yes, with a Z. Standing tall at just slightly over ten feet, the normal rules of spelling no longer apply. This is great news for you, my new co-writer and collaborator, as it opens up all kinds of new lyrical possibilities. I also am able to convert water into cherry cola, which comes in handy on those long picnic style co-write sessions (you know the ones).
"But what would we write about?", you may be asking. Great question!
I'm the recipient of a brand new government grant for experimental songwriting and as part of the governance to remain compliant with the spirit of this top secret project, I'm legally required to share the proceeds with any and all co-conspirators willing to create great music in the name of progress. I'm not at liberty to disclose the amount of the grant, but let's just say when we meet for our first session, we can "supersize it." Not to mention, you'll get to shake hands with all of your favorite cabinet members. Or sneak pop rocks into their coffee, if that's more your jam.
"This sounds too good to be true. Is it?", you might be muttering under your breath, wondering how I could possibly hear it, and be posting it here on Craig's List in realtime.
Ha! Hahaha! Ha, hoho, hee hee hee, hmm. Ahem. No. While it's true that I am a mind reader, a mind melder, a periodic melt minder, a periodical reader, a mild radar meter and a mentor, it's only too good to believe until we sit down together and write another plus-sized radio-friendly super-mega hit. At which point we will instantly be added to Mount Rushmore, featured on a Nike commercial, visited by seventeen vestal virgins of your preferred gender, and offered not one but two complimentary bowls of Captain Crunch. Also it will be a fun experience which you and I will enjoy and reminisce about for years to come. Or until our next co-write.
"Well by gosh and golly gee willakers, how ever do I sign up?", you must surely be screaming.
E-mail me, por favor, s'il vous plait, asjebleaft, qǐng, pazhalsta, and min fádlik. Your future music career will thank you. Your parents will thank you. Your cats and dogs will thank you. Your hometown and alma mater will thank you. And last, but most certainly not least, I will thank you. I sure will.
