One year ago today: July 5, 2023, budget talk.
Five years ago today: July 5, 2019, chickens are birdies.
Nine years ago today: July 5, 2015, now I really hate banks.
Random years ago today: July 5, 2013, testing something new.
I tore a strip off Canon. Their so-called support is a joke. It sends you to a quorum, where they discuss every problem except the one you have—and their answers are like, “have you contacted a technician”. Sure, Canon, I took the day off and drove the printer to the shop forty miles from here and spent twice the price of a new printer just to hear some millennial tell me I’m the only person in the known universe he has ever met who ever had a problem with that printer. Why do you ask?
Understandably, there could be a number of reasons for this behaviour and our own system is not perfect from their perspective. For example, we use one dedicated e-mail to set up the account, but do not use that same addy for general communications. Cartier can’t deal with this. I spent the morning looking for alternatives, only to find that Caltier has moved their redemption page without notice (but then, they are not required to give notice) and this put me in a near panic until I found it as a separate document—and learned if you cash out in less than two years, you don’t get all your money back. My two years will be end of this November.
The point here being that whether or not there is a reasonable explanation for all this, the whole thing since the “pause” has not been a nerve tonic. The dividends are okay, as are most other aspects of the fund, except for this “pause” and their avoidance of questions over that topic.
If you are wondering about the photo, it's the book I did not buy at the Thrift this morning. It's just the first picture in this blog ever uploaded directly from a Mac. No, I decidedly did not buy that book, my friends. I don't buy poetry books that cost more than a dollar. Why, what were you thinking?
Northern Bahamian rock lizards on beach.
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The drizzle continued all morning which blocked me from yard work. So we had an afternoon of logistics, which included getting this computer set up, it used to belong to the Reb’s mom. It’s a Mac, which I have not used in years and I’m relearning the ropes. I know they are a better system (than IBM) but I’ve used Windows so long I have all those bad habits. Now the option came for the Reb to spend the weekend at another recording session, and the doggies are used to me here again. So that means I’ll be here until some time next week. Hey, the doggies like their home cooked meals and I now take them on separate walks. Little Sammy gets special treatment, he’s not going to make it.
Remember the Rusty Urinal? (Rusty Nail pub?) I took if for closed because of the number of times I took that shortcut and saw it shuttered up. Maybe that was bad timing, as they are open and had a major band on stage. As I’ve reported and feel I must repeat, the music standards in Nashville are exceedingly high, you cannot get away with much bull in this town. If you don’t do your homework, you will get clobbered. The band at the Rusty tonight was more proof of that than you’ll need. Here’s what happened with 85% accuracy.
I walked in and found the usual top-notch band playing to a nearly empty room. Your typical Nashville band, aging female singer, middle-aged guitar player, drummer who still looks and acts like a teenager, and an expert bass player. If you see a video, it means I got to the library since I don’t have time of figure out this Mac. Anyhow, every note, every piece of music was crisp and professional, vast overkill for the club. I was there for one and to open the packages to get this mouse working when they asked for requests, which I called out, “Folsom Prison”. They played a unique and professional version that contained all the plus and minus signs I have for my own band. That is, they played a great if not fantastic version, but it was not arranged. I’ll break it down a bit.
I half-recognized the lady singer from Phats, her name is something like Hillary or Haley. The guitarist was excellent and could alternate between the guitar and keys, a total pro. But you could tell he’d rather be playing rock. But I could sure use a musician like that back in Florida, his delivery was flawless—with the codicil that he never quite played the actual version of anything. Think of it as super-accomplished comping.
The drummer, born in the 90s, living in the 60s, you know the scene, man. He was utterly precise but then again, any other type of drummer in this town won’t get breakfast. Rounding out the band (the lady singer filled in on rhythm guitar, an acoustic) was the bassist who was this much short of fantastic. That is, professional but so studio-trained that he never quite broke away from that style. He plucked with his fingertips, so his notes, while technically perfect, often bled into each other in a way that is best avoided by using a pick. He had mastered the “piano” style I play, with one nuance.
He played according to theory, one suspected he was playing expertly learned lines to music he does not really know, you can detect it in the video. Every rendition was a perfect match for the recording studio, but not so much a match for the song played live. It is very nice, it just could be that margin better. In fact, not one of the tunes he played while I was there quite came to that standard. Still, if I was going to ever play in a 2D “unison” band again, I’d want something like that. What a great show.
I was fixing to leave, complimenting the band on their song list, which is very similar to my own, when it was break time. The band walked off stage except the singer, who stayed to sing a solo version of the Judds’ “Why Not Me”. She switched to an electric for some reason and as she reached the second chorus, the thing cut out on her. She hesitated a moment, but I was just ten feet away and my own discipline cut in, (without thinking) I immediately began clapping the beat and singing backup. She caught on and we finished the song a cappella as if it was part of the show. Brought down the house.
She got off the stage and hugged me. Sigh, not my type, and I had hungry dogs back at the house. To any retirees out there, how was your Friday night?
