Don't Work Too Hard, Señor

 At my job, where I do what illegals undocumented guests of our compassionate nation rarely are willing to do, the lady who could be called my boss was concerned I might work too hard.   The prospect that I could become "overheated" seemed to be a scenario she was dreading.

I guess the others told her what it was like when I had the attack of madness a week or two ago.  But I have been so excited that the usual issues have gone dormant that I do extra things just because I can.  I promised the thin air that if I'm really getting better then I'll be good from now on.  That is easy because I always be good. Soy un buenito dos zapatos---I'm a goody two shoes, if I ever saw one.

Something is up still, but I'm thinking it will all fade away and I will expect an official announcement celebrating the miracle.  I'd like to assume the post of saint, with all the rights and privileges the office commands.  I'm guessing a nice little pension-- nothing pretentious but enough to get by.  Maybe a little saint's cottage somewhere in the country, and whatnot.

We'll work out details later.  First we have to go through the tedium of healing, then days of being humble yet vocal for PR purposes, and finally, I'll hire Jay Carney--I need someone who can say anything in any context, and no matter what it is, do it with a straight face and sincere demeanor.

It is weird to feel such of the same stuff that preceded or was present during an attack to still be wandering around inside, yet no itch burn insane discomfort.

One day this cabin will be the talk of a tourist tour.  "Here is where the miracle began..."

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Can I Be Canonized?

Probably not.   I'm not Catholic, but it is a miracle that I've had at least 4 days in a row with no attacks.  I've even been able to do the regular work plus help a friend redo the outside of part of his house; cement, lath, this and that.  I was able to get hot enough to sweat without going into big trouble.  That hasn't happened in months.

It may be a giant miracle and the whole crazy episode, which was not much fun, will fade into oblivion and peace.  I've already bargained: "If this is cured and I never have to deal with it, I'll be good for the rest of my life."

Good my be a subjective term, but I think I've shown plenty of patience and good will, so maybe any deities in the vicinity will see what a great deal it is and fix me up without further delay.

It was fun playing Friday.  I did what I could so I'd have no trouble playing.  It wasn't overly easy.  I did enjoy it and so I guess that's something.

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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Wrong twice

I seem to have read the result of the blood test incorrectly. What I thought was low is normal.  And before I thought it was low, I thought it was high.  I have no explanation.  It is what is inside those cells that is screwed up.  And something to do with the size consistency.  But other cells are high, and blablabla.

The meaning of all of it and the cure elude me.  Why the attack and reaction I experience are tied to funky blood tests, I do not know.  Probably just a courtesy of some kind.  Maybe a signal that was worked out without my knowledge.  "If your internal factories go on strike or the quality control dept. goes on strike, we'll torture the hell out of you at the most inconvenient times."  Thanks.  What a bargain.

So, I was wrong twice.  Quantity normal, quality not so good.  And you have tons of the white ones, and plenty of some other items.

This is completely running my life.  I hope it won't get in the way of our winery gig this friday.  I'll use my best strategy for keeping things going right.  It's just that this seems somewhat progressive so I have to adapt strategy accordingly.

I'm angry, and at a number of things not clearly stated here, but related, in a way.  I wish I hadn't let them all get away.  At the same time who wants anyone who cannot get past my"it" that, apparently, people have to get past if they are to see any value here?    Screw it and screw them and screw the cowgirl who's likely going to end up with the wine guy and likes to drink too much anyway.

I know.  Childish.  Not spiritual, etc.  Maybe.  I'm temporarily angry at myself and I blame myself for falling apart alone.  Inside, even knowing it is nuts, I think if I were a better human being I would not be experiencing this physical problem.  Everyone has their things.  Some are fatal, some annoying or heartbreaking or trivial.  I think my woes are trivially fatal.  And annoying because I know I'm angry

What a Joke that is on Me. Oh, you meant low, not high

OK.  When the Dr's first language is not Inglés,  misunderstandings can ensue.   A certain item on the lab tests that he claimed was high over the phone, is actually low.

All the stuff was mailed to me, as promised, with the highs and lows and other abnormalities circled in red.  Now it all makes sense.  I'm sure I can fix this now.  Why it results in crazy itch and burn, I do not know, but it is not important.  I am sure I know why I've fared better over the last few days.

This is really great news.  I'll bet that by the time new tests are supposed to be done, I'll have corrected almost all the trouble.  If not, then not.  I'm almost sure I'll be back in the water without consequence before the end of summer.  It will be nice to quit the madness and improve the energy.

Then I'll deal with the depressive sadness that is once again trying to freeze me in my tracks.  No time for that while I consciously launch my plan of attack on the stupid malady causing trouble.  I have faith in my trouble shooting abilities, and I am pretty sure I have it nailed down.

I prefer not to go into detail here, but I'll record it here when the experiment yields the good result that I expect.

They Let White Doves Go

Saturday was a celebration of life for the wife of Tim the owner of the winery up here on Ballistic Mountain.  Breast cancer did it's thing and eventually took her out at maybe 50 years old, if that.  She was a horse person and animal lover.  Lots of rescue dogs, rescue donkeys, and who knows what.  They bred horses up there before they got into the wine business.

The number of people there for the celebration of her life was probably about 150.  She made quite an impression.

At one point they let a bunch of white birds out, which symbolized something I forget.  Then they let one bird go which symbolized her spirt moving on.   The first group circled, as was expected.

I think the birds were actually homing pigeons.  A guy up here owns them.  They circle to get their bearings.  I don't think they are covered with white paint or white-out.  They really are white.  What I don't know about doves and pigeons is a lot, except they look somewhat similar.

It is impressive when people have that much impact on others, and build cool lives with evidence to show for it

Selfishly making it about me, I cannot forget what my sibling said last Christmas.   I wish I could because depression and despair are a huge waste of time and don't do much good for anyone.   I think I just never got on the train.  And when another came, I still never committed to the ride.  I'm not sure what to do about that.

 I did like watching those birds fly away

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Maybe All Is Fixing Itself

It seems like I've been able to get away with more than usual the past couple of days.  Actually getting work done.  I attribute this to juice which contains everything from kale and broccoli to cabbage and lemon.  Wild and crazy green juice with apples and carrots thrown in so it doesn't taste like liquid alfalfa and avocado leaves.  Don't think I'm unfamiliar with avocado leaves.   Also, I can confidently tell you that they are not very good to smoke.  I attempted to construct an avocado leaf cigar as a yoot.

not an avocado tree. this is a purple flowers tree of some kind

I'm pretty sure that between the super juices--I included some store bought stuff for a couple of days--and my efforts to avoid ill winds in my mind which blow no good, and my belief that I could have imagined all the troubles I thought I experienced, I am probably getting better every day.  It is amazing, but a process.  What if it works?  I will bet that it does.

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The Coppercreek group up here on Ballistic Mountain is one of the groups playing a sold out 3 day event at the Rock Canyon winery, also on Ballistic Mountain.  It is about 1 3/4 miles or so further south on a very crude dirt road.  All the roads here are dirt, of course, but the further you go, the narrower and more primitive.  Some delivery drivers won't attempt it in their delivery trucks.  Others seem to like the challenge, and the place.

The event is tied to a local radio station somehow.  People will be camping out and everything.  I think they pay $30 to attend.  Not sure how many is a sellout.  Probably a couple hundred.

We play at 7PM on day 1.  My friends Mocking Bird have 2 in the afternoon that day.  Can't believe we scored a little better.  Oh yea, I'm the harp player for Coppercreek and we're doing 2 songs I wrote. I do most of the singing on the one I like best--The Tropics song.  But others sing on the chorus.   Cliff sings Mr Sleazy.  That one's kind of funny but has a lot of harmonica antics.   We may do the instrumental, Fly Away, which is also mine; a take off on my All I Ever song, just doing instrumental.

Coppercreek is really a vocally oriented group, with some nice harmonies.  I like that because I get to participate in the singing, and just fill some background and accents instrumentally.    I'm not so great at singing, but I like it, and I'm pretty much on key.  I can carry a tune, and I know when I'm messing up.

This will be an interesting event.  I will probably head home about the time I sense the drunks getting obnoxious.  Some people can drink pleasantly, and some cannot.  The latter group would serve themselves and humanity better if they just avoided drinking altogether.

I'm sure there will be a ton of musicians I know, and I hope some other groups ask me to sit in.  I rate the odds at 50/50.

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Got the inside scoop on matters at work.  I now see what's up.  Is there ever a company which is free of skullduggery?  Anyway, I'm somewhat removed from all that, but it will affect me come August or September.  We'll see what's what at that time.  For now, all is OK.

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When You Have the Raddest Ride In The World

Well, I have no solid explanation for this--other than:

Maybe it is possible that the big O lived up to his moniker.   Jani Birddog may be a little bummed now that her errant son is back in US hands.  That blows the cover of the "secret negotiations" in which she and her ever generous spouse, Bob, were privy.  

Clearly, however this went down, Jani is enamored with the big O and shows signs of enjoying the experience more than Bob or the big O, himself.  Glad Michele's reaction wasn't recorded.  You think the flirtatious selfies with the Danish chick at Mandela's memorial made her blood boil.  I'd say this Jani Birddog affair could result in actual physical attack.  Bob's a bit ashamed at how he allowed this.  he wasn't supposed to like it.  He just wanted Bowe Birddog back stateside.

Old guys tend to see Jani as kind of hot.  I think it's Air Force One that did the trick.  That ride is a wel-known babe magnet.  Geez, look at her.  She appears to have just concluded a tryst moments before the photo was taken, and I'd say that come hither, Mr. President, look indicates she's ready to do it again.

Don't be mad at me.  I just point out what I see.  No wonder Bob went so far off the deep end.  He cares about his son, and is trying to deny the fact that Jani seems more concerned with the big O, however you choose to slice it.

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Still Changed

Although I do feel like I've changed in some way, I'm not done with whatever is amiss physically.  That's OK.  I feel optimistic.  No reason, I just think it will work out well enough.  I don't really doubt what I think is up.  Probably it is the kick in the ass that I need.  I wonder if being a better everything would have prevented this turn of the screw.

Whatever.  You would not believe the way some people and their kids relish the chances to show no respect for property or people, and to avoid practicing normal courtesy on any level.

I'm talking about hotshot people, who are pals with some of the most connected and politicially powerful people in the world.  If you are one who actually believes the jackass party is "fighting for the little guy", you are so naive, misguided, or stupid that there may be no hope.  I don't know which; I'll assume naive to give benefit of doubt.  For one thing, if you can't sense the elitism and arrogance in that statement, "I'm fighting for the common people", or words to that effect,  then you must be one who assumes you are above the common riffraff you claim to champion.

(Not to say some of the things from the other mainstream party haven't left me dumbfounded and speechless lately.  If I didn't know better, I'd think some of the jackasses were dressing up in pachyderm suits, spouting weirdness, just to make them look bad.  Seriously, gimme a break)

Believe me, some of the most vocal champions of the poor and downtrodden are some of the most overtly, and subtly, abusive, disrespectful people around.  It is just the way it is.  But, then, I often get ten hours in when I'd normally would have five, just because of thoughtless disrespect of property, and an inability to reason rather than just break things.

Fortunately much of that wreckage occurs indoors so I can fix it in air conditioned comfort, avoiding the dreaded rise in core body temp. resulting in the subsequent killer sweats.  Win-win.  Money and environment.

I think my music playing must have changed.   Actually, I know some of it changed.  I should be playing guitar but I'm not doing it yet.  Maybe someone will put up a half decent or interesting video.  I know plenty has been taken.

Often I need the outlet that playing music provides.  A few minutes of thinking of nothing, but being able to spew emotion through a little harmonica, and get away with it.  Or just get lost floating in the background while others do whatever it is they do.

For various reasons it appears all will change by September.  Long story.  Much with the job will change and that may mean I'm out of there.  Not a matter of blame or victimization or any of that.  Just the nature of some personnel changes I think are coming which are tied in with denizens of the head office.

These are times to think and plan and get some bases covered and out of the way to avoid inconvenience to myself or others down the road.