Death

It's not yet 1 o'clock and yet I am having a stiff drink.
I awoke to loud banging at around 8:30 am.

Shadow, the stoner cat...she loved catnip, was literally throwing herself against a wall.
I took her and laid her on my bed and began to pet her.

It became evident she was suffering "seizures"  of some sort. I sat with her trying to relieve her pain and stress. It tore at my heart. The vet had nothing but very expensive, "maybes."

Yeah Death sucks. Part of life, blah, blah, blah.
And I am struck by a weird dichotomy building within.
I am so hurt, I think more than if Shadow were human; and there lies the rub.

I hear voices.
"It's just a cat."
"We could go into large debt and still not affect a good outcome."

Would I worry about money when a human is involved?
Of course not. So why did that thought even cross my mind? If we can spare the animal pain and treat it, who cares about money? Worry about the outcome and the money later.

Just a cat?
The fuck?
I am sure Shadow never thought of me as anything but the same albeit larger member of the species we all share.

Me? I fought for treatment until I felt overruled when the I was hung up upon.


I do not subscribe to public displays when the emotions are so intimate. I don't make love in public, I do not want to mourn in public.

But I do want to acknowledge life, no matter how foreign, is a link in a vast web.
We are all connected.

Microphone Placement

I had heard some mention of my mixing.

"Your guitar is not loud enough."
"The guitar is in the background too far."
"Push the guitar."

And it did not seem to matter if it was live music or Band In A Box type backup. The guitar was not center stage.

I adjusted input levels. I increased volume on the amplifier. Lowered the back up tracks. None of which really seemed to solve the situation. The guitar got louder, yes. But the presence was still off. I was playing in a soup can in the back yard over a piece of string.

Oh wait...playing in a soup can.
Number one indicator of poor microphonics.

I slapped my forehead, (yeow) and proceeded to start playing with the placement of the mic in front of the guitar amp. A forty five tilt this way, ninety degrees and perpendicular to the face of the speakers. An oblique turn that way.

What a profound difference the movement produced.

Studying the response curve can actually be helpful. Whoda thunk?
Sometimes a 3d plot is provided so you literally see where the mic is best at capturing your sounds.
Gawd...

No, I will no redo my catalog but I was tempted.

Onward and upward!

One Of The Best Things

New life, life in any shape or form...life.

I am invited to play an annual event at a local road house.
The temperature is well over ninety seven Fahrenheit, but there are mist-ers and swamp coolers and a pool.

The first band is slated to go one at four pm. At four thirty pm the band leader is passing out business cards to everyone.
They go  on at five thirty pm.
(Faux pas one...go on when you are scheduled and if you can't, remove your gear so the next band gets on)

They are pretty good, new. There are rough edges to the standards but the original material is flowing. Some of it good. The theme is music, motorcycles and money.

The "sound guy" is also the keyboard player, you cannot hear his keyboards at all.

The bass player has a five string that he plays well. But midway through the first set he broke a string?
(Faux pas number umpteenth - restring before gigs, unless strings are new - bass strings? They'd have to be one or two years old at least to have broken)

Okay...as I said they are rough, but you can tell it is coming together. The drummer is a woman who kept a very good beat and could drive a truck if allowed to. Liked her a lot.

Then I remember the guitar player from George's in 2010 as the guy who got upset when he didn't get enough stage time and left in a huff.

At the start of their third set (?) George goes up to the mic and announces a few guest players; his way of getting people on and not waiting for the band.

He calls me, I respond...on with the show.

We play, it's fun and the beat picks up a notch, where people had been sitting before they were standing, clapping and almost dancing.

And then came the children.
There must have been twenty children in attendance. A whole area was cordoned off for them with a pool, and a huge area to ride - bikes, scooters, pedal cars - I had a fleeting thought of how cool this place is for the kids.

And then I noticed the kids were dancing. The two year old that kept falling down. The ten year old trying to makes the moves she's seen on the television. The raw joy and passion was so innocent and beautiful; I have a very primal reason I do what I do.

I am passing my passion to the children.
I get to share my heart with them and they reciprocate in an overwhelming wave.
I am helping to  bridge some gaps that exist between parents and their offspring.

This, more then anything else was heartfelt and true. It tugged at me. Like a kid at my side.

When it got dark and the fireworks began, the children filtered off, one by one.
I laid my guitar down and followed them.

I know where I belong.