The Simplest things can be Tricky

OK. So I met with K, established what it is I will play at the tennis bra, or whatever it is. He even sent an mp4 of him singing it, and me playing the right notes; singing then playing, not simultaneous.

I'm generally a slacker, but I have played it and played it, trying to perfect the nuances and such. It is pretty clean most of the time. I've played it enough. Funny how you can work the same notes in so many different ways. I wonder if the faithful know this tune, and if so, will recognize it from what I play. I guess if you hit pure, and soulful sounding notes they won't care.

I'm even going to wear my one pair of dress slacks. Fortunately they still fit. I wore them to a funeral service at this very holy house a year ago. They were purchased for that reason. I guess this is a figurative funeral of sorts. I'll be glad when the tomb blows open and the dude gives his pals the high five and heads on up to headquarters. Too many funerals will put bad joojoo on my slacks. Or in them. For obvious reasons, I do not want that.

It still baffles me that I am a key participant in a ritual whose name a thoughtful reader had to state because I had no idea what it was. I since have done a mild bit of research so I'm pretty much up to speed. I live a strange life.

I sure hope their PA has some option for a bit of echo or something to make the sound fat and haunting.

I'm thinking this is one case in which a little bebop improv, with jazzy riffs might be inappropriate. Maybe I could break into a fast train, or switch to Here Comes the Bride. Just as a little surprise gift to the brethren and friends in attendance.

I keep that harp in the car and within reach at all times. Not an hour goes by that I don't rehearse this once or twice, or more. Except when I sleep.