Yes, gots Internet again. New 10-year-old computer; cute li’l thing (I have hardbound books that are bigger), running Windows XP (so I can install all my graphic-design software and get some stuff done in off hours—when I have any, that is). Took a cable-TV techie to make it do wireless Internet over here, though.
My only non-meeting night this week got spent playing music, at the Cornerstone Coffee Roasters open mike in McMinnville. This time, they got “Dead Things in the Shower,” “Take Me Back to the ‘Sixties” (the new one), “Crosses by the Roadside” (I try to include one serious song), and “Meet Me at the Stairs” (to remind them I have CDs for sale). No religious songs this time—I don’t think this crowd is ready for “The Abomination Two-Step” or “Born Again Barbie.”
The audience there seem partial to the fast, humorous bluegrass songs, so that’s what I try to give them, as much as possible. I’ll run out after a while—but not right away. I keep hoping somebody’s going to invite me to be one of the weekend entertainers, but it hasn’t happened yet. I probably need to give it more time; the only “marketing” I’ve done of myself here is showing up consistently at this one open mike. (And there were some of their Friday night performers there this time. Excellent singers, and beautiful harmonies. I am probably not in their league.)
I entertain fantasies occasionally about putting together some kind of musical get-together here, along the lines of the Friday Night Group in Garibaldi; I could devote an evening to it, maybe every couple of weeks, and we could maybe do it at the town’s community center, an aged double-wide in one of the city parks. I would need to know at least a few other musicians, though, and thus far I haven’t made any effort to find them. The dream? Before I leave town for good, I’d like to put ‘em on a show.
Band practice Sunday afternoon was good. We went through “Angel in Chains,” the country death metal song we’ve never done before, “Rotten Candy,” which we hadn’t done in a long time, “Our Own Little Stimulus Plan” (one I hadn’t been entirely comfortable with), Southern Pigfish’s “For Their Own Ends” (to try it out with two lead breaks for Doc on the blues harp), and a couple of others. Everyone’s comfortable with most of the material, though—and they are really good. The Rocktoberfest should be a good show. We kick off Sunday’s 7 hours of performances, at noon. (We’re on for an hour.)
Posters for the Rocktoberfest concert are done, and some even distributed. Still need to do the notice to the “joelist.” Posters (and notice) for the September 25 concert have to wait until I get back home this weekend—I don’t have all my graphic-design software with me, to install on this computer. (Computer has a name now—“StuartLittle.”)
Can the band play at daughter’s wedding? I don’t know yet. John, Chris and I can, definitely; Doc is checking his schedule, and I haven’t heard back from Mike. I do hope we can do it. Not only would it be fun, it’d be a chance to develop (and show off) versatility. Imagine: a whole hour and a half’s worth of original love songs, with no dead animals (or rotten candy, cliff jumpers, dead sweethearts, or stalkers). Who’d ha’ thunk?
Joe
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