Sunday, July 19, 2009

Different Phases

I'm in the angry, want to beat up somone--preferably Paunch and Bubba and Ca Hwy Patrol nazis--mood. I hate the fact that I cannot control the pace at which time moves and my insurance company moves. I have yet to discover where the A team for this company is hiding. LaToya the adjuster appears to speak no language. Actually, she is pleasant and speaks well, but gets nothing done. We'll work it out on Monday.

Maybe I'll outgrow this rage phase. It's grief. I was as attached to my car as I would be to a person. That's sick. It is or was a thing. I'm unsure if it is total loss or not. I think it is right on the edge and could go either way.

Maybe I'll go out of town soon and all will be well. All is probably already well.

We played at a private thing which was all bands and musicians. The local music magazine people and other semi-connected people were there. I only piissed off one guy, another harp player. Harmonica players are pretty flaky, on average. They do not play well with others, if the others are harp players. I'm different of course. But the average harp player is cantanlerous and dimwitted. Maybe alll musicians are. Here I am around guitar players that don't piss me off. That is a first. They were dieased in Memphis, and in NC, to a large extent, but here most so far seem free of the guitar man disease. Here, it's the harp players. Fortunately, I've not run into very many. One guy yesterday was a good player. He did not seem to like me very much. Seemed to annoy him too no end. I must have played a decent set.

Some of the acts were first rate, world class. I was surprised and blown away a time or two.

It must be phase shift time. That is hoow it feels; just moving throug pphases, like phases of the moon--and I mean that in every sense oof the word, and/or phrase.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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