Blues Event; Harpfest San Diego

The day after the church gig, Saturday, I had to do some work in the morning. People had called to tell me about the big harmonica blues event in LaMesa and I guess that finally made the difference in my decision.

Originally, I thought I wouldn't go, but I was already far from home working so I decided to swing by the park in LaMesa and check it out. I was curious to see other harmonica players around here in action anyway.

To my surprise the place was teeming with people and they had a rather high level on bands lined up to play. The thing ran from noon until six. I arrived at a little before one, I guess.

These were some very good blues type bands. Some were almost like swing or big band in a way, even though they weren't big bands. Several chromatic harmonica players in the mix. It is definitely a different sound, and they were good. I prefer to play a different sound than that but I see why they might like to take the approach they do.

At some point in the festival there is a competition. The band plays what seemed like only an 8 bar blues, and each harmonica player gets just one time through. They had two mics, and when one guy was done, and the mc literally pushes him off stage, the next guy who is already poised at the other mic plays his one time through while the next was has already been positioned at the other mic. And so it goes.

I'd seen this sort of routine before one time and knew I was not going to participate--especially because they charge each one $10, which goes to some charity, allegedly. Also, the way they judge it is to line them all up at the end and decide who gets the most applause when they single out each one. There were maybe twenty of them, and most of them were not at all good.

I'd go so far as to say I thought none of them were very good. Many had "the look". The blues beard, of course some sort of hat that looks like a musician or bluesman, and the attitude, like, "look at me, I am sooo damned bad and kickass. Best harpman going!" Didn't fool me.

I knew when they 12 year old kid came up that he'd win and he did. Someday he may be a good player, but he is not any good yet. There was a pretty good prize package with lots of music stuff and gift certificates from stores, so it ought to go to the person who actually plays the best.

As they went through the players, I kept track. It is easy to do. No one played better than the fourth or fifth guy. I did not even think it was close enough that I any doubt. The sound man was texting so didn't do him justice, but still, it wasn't hard to know. But, the guy had no pretend blues costume, and no obnoxious attitude.

The crowd voted for their friends and who looked like they ought to be able to play and the run off was between the kid and a couple of jerks who weren't anything but pushy. Of course the kid won because he was little and they thought he was cute. I thought he looked like the typical TV kid who is a brat. I'm mean.

I did tell the guy who should have won that he was the best player up there. He probably has no idea that I am a good source.

Then, to my surprise, Jason Ricci played. He was there with a guitar player that I think is a friend in the area. The rhythm section was from one of the local bands that played. I was glad that Jason has put on weight, was dressed nicely and no longer looked like a junkie nearing death.

They did a great set. He and that guitar player had a blast trading licks and smoking cigarettes in an SD county park where it is illegal. I do not condone smoking but I do love scofflaws when the laws being scoffed are over the top. The did not litter.

That guitar player, something Mateo, maybe Jimmy or Gene, it sounded different every time I heard the name, was as good a blues guitar as I've heard in some time. He knew how to play stuff that you enjoy hearing, not just the kind of stuff where you think it must be hard to play. Lots of players fall into that trap. They play cliche licks that are hard and that other players think are hard, but no one is really that thrilled at the over all music involved. Harp players do it big time, too.

Jason played superbly, as always, and it was a big crowd pleaser. He gave the guitar at least as much time as himself and it worked out very well. Jason's vocals have improved 100%. I used to listen and just want the singing to stop so I could hear the harp. This time I enjoyed the songs in their entirety because he actually sounded pretty good. Not sure what his current band status is, but I'd like to see someone who is that good make a decent living and gain recognition outside blues and harmonica circles. He's a great jazz/blues. rock and beyond player.

After Ricci's set I took off. They had other good players coming up but I'd got what I came for--to assess where I think I stand as far as a player, and whether the locals who would hit the jam part would put me to shame. Not much threat on the latter, that's for sure. But I can see that fronting a blues band is not what I'd want to do. I like being a sideman who is often featured, and I like not being stuck with the idea that diatonic harmonica must be used solely for the purpose of trying to copy Little Walter's licks.

There are great Chicago style blues players and all that, but so much of it is the same. Even the hacks in the competition almost all got up and attempted very close to the same thing. I couldn't believe it. It was an easy kind of run they were all after but they didn't know how to get from here to there without going to a place that did not match the right chord on their way.

I shouldn't be so critical. Anyway, I went to Valley Music open mic, and I was hot to play. I played a set with mountain friend Cliff, and another guy. Then later I played with a guy named Z. I don't know. Just Z. He's asked me to play before when I am there.

Both sets were much fun. It seems I was pumped from the festival and felt in a very confident mood. I'm pretty sure it went over as well as it felt. Cliff's set seemed like it got the most enthusiastic crowd response. There were some very capable people playing this time, too. But, once again, it is obvious that what is the most difficult, or the best example of virtuosity, does not always please people or connect with them the most.

There was a variety of good stuff. One guy plays a very unusual, almost classical or flamenco, but not, guitar. A lot of tapping strings and slapping the guitar. It was pleasant and complex and flawlessly executed. I could listen to that while driving or whatever. The guy is a bit hard to take for me, personality wise, but his music is great. As much as I hated to boost his ego, I let him know. He was probably the best musician there, but not the one the crowd enjoyed the most. That's how it works.

It might help if he just played instead of dropping names and basically telling you how wonderful he is before playing a tune.

Performance of any kind has various elements to it that are not always recognized by the performer. I'm observing and paying attention to that more than ever these days. I think the Valley Music open mic has more to offer than I first realized. It doesn't hurt that people now clap before I hit the stage when they see I'm going to sit in with someone.

But they also clap for people who can't carry a tune. They are generous and supportive like that. But I'm meeting some good players and decent people there, so even if bad quality is not shunned because people are polite, there is good quality in abundance.

I applaud everyone too. I've started to simply appreciate the happiness people get out of being there. It's free so why rain on someone's parade. You never know what goes on in their lives and this may be what keeps them going.

I didn't record any of it, but may be able to get the video which the venue ran. They video every open mic, and I think I knw how to get it.

Oh. A friend from there who writes and sings his own stuff, semi-John Prine type thing, is heading to Texas for a month or two just to hit places and try to sell his CD. He might do OK in various venues. So, keep an eye out for Don Phelps and be nice to him if you cross paths.

He told me that I could hit open mics in Austin and probably end up with gigs every night of the week. I never put any stock in open mics but now I see it is how a lot of people get stuff going. And some just travel and hit them as they go. I should have listened more and prejudged less. Maybe next road trip I'll do that.

That reminds me, I've heard some women there who are good, but I don't think I've better than what I heard from Sally and her daughter awhile back. And she hadn't played in forever. Now that's a case of a really good performer flying way under the radar.

Tennis Bra, and The Aftermath

So, there I was in the candle-lit sanctuary, standing in front of a microphone (actually, it was own Audix Fireball on a stand), located by the piano and organ, and by the mic solo singers used during the service. The whole kit and kabootle was located at the rear of the church, as was the choir. Unlike the stuff I've mostly seen on TV, this outfit has the musicians and singers in the back and not the front.

There music director bounced back and forth between piano and organ; as needed for the program -I'm assuming. The are arranged back to back and such that their long sides are parallel to the main aisle. I guess it allows him to look to one side and brow beat the choir, and to the other to see what the pastor is up to.

When the holy men and entourage began their journey from the back of the chapel to the front, I guess they stopped nearby and I was cued to play the blues. All was silent and very dimly lit. Harmonica is one instrument in which lighting is not relevant, as long as you have it right side up with the business edge facing you. I managed to have that covered.

What was weird, and unsettling, was that when I was about three quarters of the way through my part, I hit a note and had no recall of playing the previous section leading to it. It was like my mind had taken a vacation when I began playing, and I was off in lala land somewhere. My sudden return to the then and there caused me to wonder which way to go.

It was a note that comes off another, then you go back to the other, then back to the one I was on. I found myself going back to that first note, by thinking maybe I'd already done that back and forth.

Maybe I did and maybe I didn't. I think I did, which means I played it wrong. In any case I just kept going, sliding down the final phrase at probably the right time. If you manage to come in on the one, and go out on time, you can often get away with screwing up the in between.

I was feeling one of those full body blushes. The kind of thing you might feel if you publicly told someone they needed to stand on their own two feet, only to discover the object of your lecture was a double amputee. Then, when three different people each sang their verse, it was time for me to play my final part. This part was much shorter. We decided at last minute that it would have more impact in context of the thing.

So, I play this and the same thing happened. I'm playing note and suddenly wonder what I already played and if I am totally queering the deal. I smoothly enough managed to conclude, holding the last note and achieving that kind of hollow resonate sound that playing and cupping your hands just right can produce.

Now I was so embarrassed I thought they might break their promise and tack me up on that cross they'd been toting around through all this. Fortunately, at this point I could sit down for the rest of the affair. I must say, at the end after they snuffed the last candle so the place was dark, that book slam made me jump a good half foot out of my chair, even though I knew it was coming.

K claims I did not screw up, and he has a good ear. He taught me what to to play , so I guess he knows. I would have sworn I didn't do it right. I really had this thing down. I'd played it countless times and would only stop a practice session when I had played it through thre or four times in a row without any glitches. But I was not in a coma while practicing.

So, that was a very strange thing. The people there liked it alot from what I could tell, and they most graciously thanked me. Say what one will about holy places and people, this crowd is very nice.

I'm sure my take on the whole rite is a bit different than most, but that is life. It was somewhat of a spiritual experience and educational. It still puzzles me that people don't see how the innocent are still figuratively, at least crucified, and how mobs and the state still tend to condemn rather than prove guilt. Guilty until proven innocent is still very popular, even in the USA.

Perhaps the connection between this story and things all around us is not seen as I see it by many. It is what it is.

The event left me realizing that you do what you do, and being a part of a thing like this can challenge your ego if you slip in and out of a coma. Also, the most important thing to know is that it was not about me. The music director, the solo singers, the choir, the holy men, everyone who had some form of performance part might be every bit as concerned with doing well as I was. All could be as ego driven and self centered to the point of the body blush if they chose.

I sat there for half the service just wanting to make a public apology and then run away. I rode with K and L, and wasn't quite driven enough to want to walk 25 miles or so at night, so I got over it.

Then there is the part about them telling me it was so haunting and effective; soothing my pride.

I played a church gig which was all holy and somber, and in some ways slightly macabre. That is not a thing I'd have ever predicted. Now I don't know where I put that new Lee Oskar D harp. It may be in my car, or in K's. I know I had it on the way home. What a ballistic tour of a life I live.

Marketing Intangibles

The smartest thing an anti virus company could do is to either create a bit of malware for Mac, or just get the word out that something is out there which threatens Mac user security. We don't know the difference. It is all in 0s and 1s, anyway.

Despite the ease of creating a market, I have doubted the idea that Apple products are immune to hacker mischief and the kinds of little programs that evil doers like to create in order to ruin your day and/or steal stuff from you. This most recent scare finally motivated me, as I'm sure it has motivated many, to take action.

I almost went for the free stuff, but many open source things, though reportedly effective, are extremely complex when it comes to figuring out how to use them. The last thing I want is some anti-hoodlum software that requires me to jump through vaguely defined hoops on a regular basis.

From past experience I know I am no fan of Norton, and maybe one or two others. I did a little research and found something that is most highly rated, and it is purely for Mac, and not an afterthought of a company that has been windows oriented for the last couple of decades.

I'm testing Intego's program for 30 days, and if I like it, I'll pay up. It seems clear on the uninstall, which many virus programs are not. The major ones can be hard as hell to remove.

Other than companies who make money selling security software, what can be the motive for much of this stuff? Some of these trojans and whatnot don't steal identity or anything else, they just screw up the system. That is sicko. Anyone with skill enough to do that ought to have a bit more of a beneficent philosophy. I suppose sadism in its many forms is still a popular hobby.

We'll see how this goes. My impression so far is good enough.

Tonight we blow our horn for Heaven and all mankind. I hope for the best. I played it for K and L last evening and they liked it. L even asked me to do it again. Both times were clean and without error, so that has helped me be less nervous.

That virus barrier sure has an odd icon. It looks like a picture of a glue bottle--like those old bottles of LePages glue. I am not sure I get it.

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.

OK. The Truth

It is my hope that the Friday service precipitates profound spiritual experience for myself and for those in attendance. I hope angels will be with me and keep me from screwing it up.

The people of that congregation are nice, and treat me well. I am quite nervous over this undertaking, but think I should not shy away from such an honor. They have a very capable music director who is a wizard on the keyboard. If he is on board with this scheme of me playing, then I take it as a meaningful compliment and hope I live up to expectation.

So, I am leaving theology to others and hoping I contribute to something that uplifts souls and eases pain, even though I don't see how I could. Playing puts me in another world, even when I don't like music, so maybe there the rules work in ways beyond my reckoning.

I just hope I do justice to the occasion.

UPDATE; More Truth:
Earlier this evening I got together with K to see exactly what it is I am to play on Friday. It turns out I'm playing more of the tune than I expected, but I only do it when they first start the slow procession through the seven candles that they snuff out in this rite. And again at the end. Let us see if I, for once, play something the same way twice.

(while we are at it, will someone please inform CBS news, as well as AP, that there is a difference between the words "than" and "then"? News should at least be somewhat correct in language usage. Spellcheck and the internet have done much to erode the level of the written word but that does not excuse the pros)

So, now I have it almost down. I really do try to do these things the best way rather than the easiest way. When people show faith in me, and pile on positive reinforcement, I tend to do my best. I'm a glutton for the positive treatment. Some are motivated by revenge, or the "I'll show them" emotions. I'm motivated by respect and others expressing belief that I can do what I may doubt I can do.

It is clearly a handicap, but I have more difficulty measuring my ability in many areas than some of my friends do. Then there are times when friends doubt but I don't. That usually concerns winning friends and influencing people.

In any case, I am now committed, and think I'll be ready. I'm more nervous about this gig than I have been about any I can recall. That is good. This will build character, and it presents healthy challenge. Well, my first sober time playing in public, in Jamaica with the house band at the place might still be #1 in that regard. I threw up more than once in the minutes before going on.

*****my keyboard has difficulties so I often post only to find missing a or y in key words.

Short Note To El Presidente Del Mejico

Mr. Calderon, how do you have the nerve to come here and weigh in on our domestic issues, demonstrate, along with our own officials, no respect for our constitution, and shamelessly pretend to be a champion of the people your policies and government have impoverished and driven over our border? You phony charlatan. They should call you President Charlatan instead of Calderon.

If I had my way, we'd turn you back at the border. Like you so often do to those entering your country. Your policies are far harsher than ours, yet you boldly lecture us. Screw you, you slimy creep.

You run a country in which the police force are known to be as corrupt as the drug cartels, a country from which people flee, risking their own lives; a country which is overrun with corruption, from your office down to the local constable.

It would be a wonderful country if not run by people like you. Maybe you would do better things if you stayed home and cleaned house, and did not instead come over here telling us how to run our country, while blaming us for your own self made problems. Your arrogance and shamelessness make me want to punch you in the nose and keep on slapping you, all the way back to Mexico City. Get out and stay out, you corrupt, lying, stealing bastard.

Sincerely,

your pal, Mr Ballistic

Blasphemy

buy my tee shirts you capitalist pigs
Either you get it or you don't.

If I end up playing in church for the macabre, guilt promoting Good Friday service, will I fry, or be visited by the henchmen of the neo-Inquisition? Those inquisitors set up some very unpleasant tests and punishments for those who weren't solidly on board with the party line. And for those they simply didn't like.

Yikes. Many of the inquisitors' tortures tended to put stress on one's intestines, and they attacked such organs from both ends. Very sick and cruel people. Like I often say, "never trust a sadist". People don't listen.

Anyway, the church where I played along with my friend on a song, has expressed interest in me playing solo in between phases of some ceremony which really grinds on the collective free floating guilt, and the bloody, painful stuff in the Story. A lot of the stuff which I personally can't honestly get behind.

I think the church tends to miss the point. But people get mad at me for that. I can't lie, like many people, and pretend I believe things that I don't, or that I believe in a way that I don't. And why does anyone care what I think, if they are so close to the Master of All Things?

It's mostly the blood and guts worship that I do not buy. That knocks out ninety percent of Catholicism and many other sects. There were early Christian sects which did not go with the die for our sins aspect. So don't give me all this bit about longevity of a particular church. I think slavery was around longer than the church. So does that make it correct?

You used to be able to buy your way out of purgatory and popes had children.

Anyway, I may do this thing. I'll play in an eery, haunting fashion, hoping to wrench a little more guilt out of each parishioner. It is your fault that they tacked the boy up.

Pain. Feel the pain. Suffer, suffer, suffer, and if you feel like complaining and don't enjoy it, ask yourself, what if He had complained? You'd not be saved, etc. You miserable, guilty, worthless sinner!

It just doesn't ring my bell. There are those for which it works, and those who claim to believe it just as presented in certain churches, but there are those whose anger is too quick and heated at any who may not agree. That makes me think they do not believe and that scares them so they become angry zealots, lest their peers, or maybe even Jesus, see the lack of faith in their hearts.

My feeling is that I won't argue or try to change anyone's belief if it helps them through the night. Just as long as they don't push me. They may actually know the whole truth, be God, and zap me into dust if I'm not careful. Then again, it may be that people can arrive at the same place through different paths.

Although I hope I have more energy, and less cynicism than I do now, if my path is going to yield me 72 virgins in the hereafter. I am certainly not getting there through the exploding vest path. I'm fairly certain that path doesn't actually yield women and sex in the afterlife. My way could yield that. Not ruling it out, but I know I'd be highly skeptical of the scene.

I can see it now, "Hi, I'm a virgin!" "Oh, yea, sure you are. Save that BS for some other guy."
I'm not sure I even want 72 virgins. I think maybe 4 or 5 virgins, and the rest very warm, loving women.
There could be a reason all those women are virgins, and it may prove to be absolutely no fun. Besides, even in Heaven, I'd suspect them of lying about it. Or something. No, just a few for the novelty, and the rest without such complications.

I'm not sure how that jibes with the suffering and it is all our fault. But I think 72 potential relationships may be punishment rather than reward. OK. No chance in hell I am going to become a Muslim. That's why the older guys rarely do the suicide bomber thing. They have lived enough to know that the 72 virgin thing is not without potential problems. Big problems.

The place where I may play on Friday is not a mosque, anyway, so I'm safe. Perhaps I've conducted this post somewhat tangentially.

It is definitely a compliment and a bit of an honor that they'd ask me to do this. And such slow, single note playing is not so easy. I think I have to play six or seven times, with the guilt trip being cast about after each time.

One tiny error and no way to hide it. I can only hope that whatever the real truth is somehow fills the room through my playing, and that I am able to know what it is.

Just because I do not find a particular outlook credible or quite on the mark, does not mean I know for sure that it is truly not right. But if you come at me all angry and bowed up because I doubt and question, I am not swayed. That reaction only makes me think that whatever you believe must be bunk because you are an angry hypocrite.

That is a bit of a cop out though. It is easy for someone who doesn't profess their own defined theology to call others hypocrites for not living up to the spiritual code that they clearly espouse. If you do not let anyone know your beliefs, then how can they point out that you aren't abiding by your own philosophy and professed spiritual faith? See how tricky this stuff is?

I admit it. I am a trickster.

I figure the best thing is to play your an harmonica in the holy place, and if you do not spontaneously combust, or draw lightning bolts, then you may not be so much on the bad side of the good guys as some may think.

New Look

It is probably a trick, and an essential element in the big conspiracy. I'm talking about the abundance of new looks going around. Blogger has been harassing their users about their new look, which is due any minute. Update now! They tell you that it is going to happen come hell or high water, so you have no choice. Then they suggest you do it voluntarily right now, even though you may not want the new look or any of their upgrades. You base this upon experience that tells you that many sites tend to lose their ease of use and their versatility when they get carried away.

Google is also threatening gmail users with the new look. I have no idea why. I tried it and didn't like it. I even filled out a survey. "What do you like about the new look, and what could be better?". "I do not like anything about the new look. It sucks. It would be better if you fire the geek who is pushing it and toss that plan in the trash" "Thank you for your feedback!! The new look will be coming in April. Why not switch now?"

I'll bet they will pretend that the new look transition corrupted data, so then they can justify asking for personal information--to make sure their records are up to date and correct. For my protection. "For your protection, what is your blood type? What are you wearing? What is your father's level of education? Just give the first twelve and last 6 numbers of your bank account, please."

Their tricks don't fool me.

I don't like the look of this at all.

Hoodies

It used to be, long ago, that garments with a hood were called Parkas, or simply a garment with a hood. Somewhere along the way the term "hoodie" entered the lexicon. It is an easy, descriptive word for the sweatshirt type thing which includs a hood.

It is a comfortable item of clothing, and very useful when in cold, inclement weather. I've been a fan of the parka and hoodie from the first time I ever saw one. Growing up in Miami, I always longed for anything that spoke of winter. At one time it was the rage to have a madras parka.

They were light weight, cotton, colorful, and perfect for those 60 degree Miami winter days. Girls thought they were cool and I'm sure we all looked spiffy and cute as we crawled through the halls of the junior high school, which, by the way, was run by a disproportionate number of perverts and disgruntled communists who were ever so bitter that doctors and airline pilots made more money than they did. I can still name many of the abusive bastards who bullied kids, and took too much interest in "policing" the showers in the gym.

Now we've come to an age in which people who mug, rob convenience stores, and commit drive by crimes tend to favor the hoodie so they can wear the hood over their head for reasons unrelated to weather. We are also in an age where fashion in some circles follows the garb of punks and gang bangers. The market from a money standpoint is with the mindless wannabes who wish to belie their middle class status while pretending to be ex-cons and inner city, disturbed and angry bad asses.

I think I have more respect for the actual punks than I do for the wannabes, and that is not much respect at all.

Respect for the perpetrators of more of the The Great Pretense is also at an all time low. They have now turned an incident which resulted in someone getting shot into a debate about the hoodie. What a stretch. Now this garment is spun into some sort of racial statement. That is really pushing the bounds of reason and the whole truth.

I was not there that night in Sanford Florida, so I do not know for sure what happened. Neither do the people who are leading and following the witch hunt or the backlash. One thing is clear, the motivation is not truly a reaction to racial prejudice. If that were the case, then the killings and beatings around the country which are clearly based on race would be getting far more attention than this case. This is merely an excuse for those whose wealth depends upon hatred and resentment to foment violence and keep themselves in a position to extort and broker power.

None of it actually has to do with the garment, unless one is dumb enough to go around using a hood to cover his face, and by some stretch of the imagination thinks that would not raise a bit of concern. The utter stupidity surrounding the rallies which center on the garment is alarming, but not all that surprising, considering the attitudes and excuses of the times.

Our new racial hair-splitting term is "white hispanic". Now, I guess we have to apply this to all cases involving mixed race. "Our first white black president". The victim was a "white asian". "A black hispanic won the spelling bee". I'm uncertain as to the number of things I should put into the mix in describing myself. That is because I am not totally clear on what constitutes white and other. Surely we want to separate out the Irish, the Italian, French, Bosnian, and all the rest in one's ethnic heritage in order to describe them.

I guess you have to lump things together into the white category so you can keep the us vs them thing going. How can we claim this cracker shot a black if he is not really a cracker? He's a cracker hispanic. Future implications of this new class will be interesting.

Whatever the truth is, this incident is not about hoodies, per se, and not about race. It is about opportunism and the very real danger that mob rule is growing in popularity. It is about those who will use anything and anyone, without the slightest shame, to further their own ends, and to justify and deny their own shortcomings.

I like hoodies. I will continue to wear them when they suit my mood. It is another of those things like the rainbow--some damned group wants to hijack it for their own purposes and it ought to be just left in the public domain without political taint.

Holy Rolling

Part of Copper Creek, my Ballistic mountain group for which I play an harmonica*, is active in a Lutheran church down there on the other side of El Cajon (pronounced: el cah-Hone). We got paid to play there once and it was a great time. Probably the best time I've had playing in CA.

Anyway, Lauren said she wanted me to come and play on a song she was doing at a Wed. night service. She and her husband, Kevin, have always shown me kindness above and beyond the norm, so no matter how resistant I am to church things, I couldn't refuse.

For various reasons, I have been to a few things there at the holy house, and am known by several of the regulars, including Pastor Andy. They are nice people and to my great surprise, I like Andy very much and find him to be full of wit and an easy person to be around. He's very intelligent, and does not play the holier-than-thou routine.

Lately, I've been possessed by some kind of internal frustration of unknown cause. It makes me feel out of phase, makes me grouchy and generally so off keel that I don't realize how I've said what I said until it is too late. Or I don't even realize anger was coming out. Mostly I have been sick of myself.

This little Wednesday service actually calmed me down. At some point it was time to sing, so we went up front and joined Kevin, who was already up there because he was the cantor for the evening. Lauren sang, and I played a couple of solo interludes to the holy song, and sang the low harmony when called for. That is very odd.

There were a couple of guitars backing the tune, and everyone did some harmony parts.

Mostly I just do it quietly and it blends. The tune came off without a hitch. No mistakes on the harp. It was a song which involved Jesus and stuff. Lauren's voice is so pleasing, she could have been singing about Obama, and stuff, and I'd have enjoyed it. Not to equate the two, even though some people do. Not to say I object to Jesus and stuff. I really do not. I'm simply not on board with how a lot of Jesus and stuff is handled.

My view of Obama and stuff is a bit different. We differ radically in philosophy. Semi-anarchist vs mega-archist. But, who cares? Maybe I should have used another example. Too late.

I live a strange life. A kid that reminds me of a 12 year version of my cousin's son was smitten with the harmonica, and he and his mom came up to me afterward to tell me. He looked at me and said, "That was awesome!". So, I asked him if he plays. He said that he doesn't and I asked him why not.

He turned to his mother and asked, "Hey Mom, why don't I play harmonica?" She replied that he doesn't play because he doesn't own a harp. I told him I could remedy that if he wanted, and he seemed eager for remedy. So, we went to the car and I gave him my Lee Oskar C. Now I have to get another.

Maybe he'll take to it, maybe not. I told him I would be glad to teach him if he wants. Maybe we'll find a way to keep in touch. I have a feeling this kid could use the encouragement at this point in his life. It was one of those gut impulses that I occasionally follow.

Actually, I was well into acting on the impulse before I realized what may have been at play. Then it hit me. Oh, he reminds me of J. Afterward, I learned a little of his circumstances, and concluded that my sixth sense was operating well.

I'm not a churchy guy. I have my beliefs, and they don't jibe in certain ways with most church doctrines, however, I might show up there if I find evidence that there's a chance I can do this kid some good. K and L will be on top of it, so we shall see. I need to be of use to someone.

*I've been looking for an excuse to say "an harmonica" ever since that MASH episode when Winchester was all flustered over wanting "an harmonica". Normally I'd say "a harmonica" because I pronounce it with a hard H.