One year ago today: April 26, 2023, he sold his guitar & quit.
Five years ago today: April 26, 2019, back when I had time.
Nine years ago today: April 26, 2015, already a rebel.
Random years ago today: April 26, 2013, grinding walnuts.
This was not a great day, I’ll mention the overview. But I’m not having as bad a day as Old Joe, who is being booed “into oblivion” in the streets that a year ago were Democrat stronghold Supporters continue to swell Trump’s coffers at $1,000,000 per day as the fake trials continue. One judge, after refusing Trump time off for his son’s grad and his wife’s birthday, called a recess so one jury member could go to the dentist. These are the things that get people riled. One state has already formed a militia to protect its Second Amendment rights. And I’m tired as I’ve ever been, only increasingly I can’t shake it.
A perfect day again, I drove most of the way with my arm out the window. The way it should be for someone like me, I think more about the future than ever. I listened to an audio book with a novel theme. These burglars who happened to know a lot about computers find themselves targeted with and FBI investigation for a hack they did not do. In the process of finding out who blackmailed them, they discover a former defense contractor has installed spyware on satellites. It allows them to sell the Keyhole surveillance photos to Middle East clients. I now know a lot more about breaking and entering than before.
Locating the clinic took forty minutes after reaching the right area, Cooper City. Navigating by GPS does not tell you if the entrance is approachable from only one direction. What was interesting is I had a new audio book named “Navigation by Navigation”, authored by Gore Vidal. For unknown reasons, the guy became a real what today would be called an influencer. He is the King of Boredom, but he perfected the art of boring you with information, which I happen to be enchanted with. Until later in life I thought he was a half-poof famous hairdresser, so I don’t really know much about the guy. But I do know, consistent with my viewpoints on environment, he was an absolute nobody until his mother married into money.
In fact, as I was pulling into my driveway, he was on about the poverty of his youth, how they had to make friends with the Senator’s kids next door because their property had no swimming pool. He recounts how they had to buy a cottage on the “pauper” side of the lake and considered himself lucky to have tea with the Roosevelts twice a year.
Somewhere near Lincoln, Nebraska.
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NPR radio makes it across the Everglades, so I heard some anti-Trump broadcasting from the worse creeps in America. That producer, WeinStein, had his rape conviction overturned by a panel of female judges, from where else but New York. Even they know you are not in a Hollywood job interview at midnight with a fat boy like that. Here’s some signs from the rest stop this morning. They typify the agenda that America hates. As you pull up to the building, all the empty good parking spots have garbage signs like this. EV parking or vanpool parking only. People did not ask for this crap and the highway department does not own the property.
The news from the clinic is not good, even though the results won’t arrive for another week. The only positive news I expect is I don’t have problems with bone density. Mind you, even avoiding most processed foods and shunning chemicals, I have had a North American diet for over sixty years. I do believe I’ve just been inside the most ancient MRI machine that has of yet avoided the museum collection squad. On the other hand, the plaque said Made In Germany, so it may have a hundred years left on it yet. Talk about a racket, they gave me some headphones playing Kenny Rogers tunes.
Upon leaving the clinic, I tried calling Agt. M and JZ one more time, nothing. I had arranged all four tests for today to get things underway and over with. One test involved taking a mild lime-flavored shot, all it did was make my muscles feel “mushy” for a ten minutes which eliminated that one potential source of pain. Being sapped listless before I got there, I opted to not drive over and knock on the doors. This meant a high-speed dash on Highway 27 from the Golden Glades to Lake Wales, with one stop for a stretch at the Clewiston Goodwill. That’s only because it is convenient, the store has turned as bad as all the rest.
I bought a book about the Who, rock band of the last century. They all looked like Beatles wannabes, even the most serious musicians. Anyway, their biggest hits arrived in that stretch before I had already started my second band, and as I was starting university, the most destitute era of my life. I know little of this band except the few hits that appeal to my ear. I did know of their constant in-fighting and how they announced a breakup after every album or tour, so now I’m about to read the backstory.
This will make for an interesting comparison, because by age 18 I already had some heavyweight experience with band break-ups. Yes, it does impact directly on how I manage bands down to this day. It’s a fool who points a finger at all the failures as anything more than my first-hand understanding of what sort of people to avoid. (So far I’d guess 95% of them are guitar players.) Weeding out the pussyfoots, psychos, and libtards takes time, but is validation of my assertion that only one band start-up in 88 makes it to the first gig. It’s the propellant that gets me moving my new people on stage as rapidly as possible, usually within the first six weeks from a standing start. I’ve never had a band last that consisted of ready-made members.
Thus it will be curious to find any parallels with a wildly successful band like The Who. Did they suffer the same throes? If would be something to learn, after all these years, [that] they had no better luck with the drama queens than I did. That success in the modern world is directly proportional to environment, luck, and having money enough to survive without a job until something pays off.
