Practice Makes Practice

So, even though Cliff and the sit in for the gig bass player felt another practice would be inconvenient, K, L, and I went over harmonies, and several songs.  Best time I've had in many days, and we sounded pretty damned good, if you ask me.  Which you did not but you should have.

This is becoming interesting.  No one in a group enjoys feeling that other members of that group, even if it is just for one gig, either aren't interested or think they are too good for the ensemble.  I know what is what, and I am quite confident that none of the disinterested are too good.  Maybe just off in other directions. I always think that, it seems.  But there is a synergy here that is pure heaven when it works.

It doesn't always work but we do our best.  We did tonight anyway.  I think we'll be much more confident Friday.  No telling how that will work with the others.  This is why so any people just play alone.  Always someone or their manipulative significant other throwing a wrench in the works.

My thing will be getting through in one piece. This madness also hits me with waves of shortness of breath, so I'll be faking it, phoning it in, and employing every trick I learned to use in practice when that happened.  

Oh well.  Wrong week to quit sniffing glue, or something like that.  It would be way worse if I still smoked.  I'm so amazed that I am still not smoking.  I can't even begin to imagine the trouble if I were drinking.  Some are just not made for that.  I'm one of those.  But cigarettes don't render you senseless all at once so they are tricky, and highly, ultra addictive.  But no smokes still.  I think my teeth are whiter and that the physical trouble is not a direct result of quitting.  The timing is coincidental, not a result of stopping the cigarette habit. again.  

There were hints of this last fall and even before. But only hints, not full blown trouble I couldn't ignore.  The difference between one of those little bicycle bells and a full on deafening commercial fire alarm.

Life, she does not change the rhythm until you learn to dance
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Maybe Friday Will Be OK

7PM should be a cooler time of day,and that ought to help.  If I a nice to everyone, including children an animals, and think only pure and holy thoughts, perhaps I not be plagued mid-set.  I'm almost certain that most people think I am crazy and just make this up.  Maybe so.  Or maybe there is an internal discrepancy which is not going away.

We have much more material than we need, so some things are being cut out.  I'm a little disappointed that Cliff and the guy sitting in on bass seem to be not too enthused.  Or something.  Maybe because K and L don't do that circuit they hit five times a week or more.  I hit that circuit once or twice  week, I guess, but I'm fading out of it.

I guess it doesn't matter.  I have to hold back and try my best not to sweat or let my body think it is heating up.  Once it starts it becomes an internal blast furnace, thinking it is under attack, releasing what knows what, driving me to the brink.   I have to figure a way for a rapid exit if need be.  I can pretty much phone in the harp parts and no one but me knows the difference.  But an hour.  Outside, but maybe in shade.

Next week  guess I'll call medicland and see what is next.

I can't believe HarpDepot.com absorbed coast2coastmusic.com.  Coast was my favorite source of microphones and harmonicas, although I've dealt with both over the last ten years or so.  It isn't quite as good now, but they are still good people.

Bummer. My low D harp is unlikely to make it by friday.  Life. She is.  It is the problem of expectations that make one think life is tough.  Life is reality, and some of the constructs place there by Atilla, FDR, and numerous kings and self-styled holy men, not to mention TMZ and facebook, have queered the deal fro time to time.

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