Slowly I Turned

inch by inch, step by step, day by day...

I want that parasail.  That is probably the answer to all.  Altitude is my friend, but like many friends, it may turn on me one day.  That's OK.

There is probably a good reason that I find no stucco fixing info which covers the sort of wall corners that have partially fallen off.  The Santa Barbara smooth mission finish is a difficult thing.  And the nature of the repair area makes life very difficult if you are dealing with dreaded stucco.

They leave you out in the cold. All the repair stuff and stucco info deals with easy flat areas, or large, square corners with plenty of space on each side.  They pointedly avoid discussing circumstances similar to mine.

I think I will have to chip out what I did and start anew.  So many people to blame now; Bush, Carson, Trump< Obama, Clinton.  And to one degree or another I guess they are all culpable.  We know they are guilty of something.  So we just blame them when convenient.

I am not going there, though.  I have found people and news to be so over saturated with koolaid that their wet brains cannot possibly reason clearly, and they will kill you for pointing it out.  Yikes.

My own issues with reality and judgement are bad enough.  Tempting as it is to escape those by delving into things over which I have little control, but about which my understanding is insightful and true, I will not do it.  The more I escape into that political nonsense, the weaker my hopes to establish a decent life and direction.  Besides, I think I may be falling apart, and I have to do what I can to fix that.

But seriously, do people really think that they are saving the planet with token acts of austerity and reduced living standards?  You are not.  Climate may be influenced to a small degree by humans, but it is not the over riding force for change.  But then the earth savers are clueless about how much government people, corrupt government people, and environmental histrionics have retarded the natural evolution of technology toward more sustainable energy methods and ways of improving life without killing off resources, people and minnows.

Good Move in a Little Life

So, it seems that pain is the new normal.  Just how it is.  And the hopeless feelings that want to consume a person tend to grow and feed on the organism like ebola on steroids.  I wonder how steroids actually react with ebola, but I am not curious enough to try it at home.

I forced myself to clean up suit up, and get out of the house.  Tonight is the weekly thing that Chris, the Marine and them do at the VFW.  They have expressed the desire for me to play with them when I can so I showed up.

I did not play much, but had little desire to play a lot.  Being around people who want me there and who might get me out of my own madness was the goal.  I did not even know if I could hang for thirty minutes before feeling the need to leave.  Some chronic pain was bothering me a lot.  I took three of the pain pills the bass player from Sande's band gave me.

Eventually I guess they helped.  The pain was less when standing up, so I did a bit of that.  At any rate, I realized I may be of some benefit to Chris or Emily or Richard.  You never know.  They want me to play with them on veteran's day at the USS Midway, downtown at the harbor.  Big Veteran's day celebration.  San Diego is a huge military town, so such a thing is big.  It would be kind of an honor to play that, I think.

So, as little as playing means, I will use it to keep me from too much insane isolation and depressed misery.  Maybe end up being recruited to be a spook.  I have nothing holding me back, as long as I can be a spook with no big physical demands, not fluent second languages, and no real skills.  Just the sort of spy we need.

I started to come home at several points along the way to the Lakeside VFW.  But I did not let my mind talk me out of going.  That was a tiny victory in itself.  I was able to do more than expected.  And I really felt better seeing these friends.  I wish some older version of Emily would happen my way.  She is a looker.  Maybe the older version would have to have a few modifications to make compatibility with me on the level I want work better.  We can settle details later.  First let us just find the proper unit and then we will refine the deal.

This is a very hard period of life.  Maybe quit fighting everything.  Or try.  Otherwise I know I am doomed.  If I try to thwart the destructive demons which tend to possess me, I may yet survive to enjoy a natural demise rather than some accelerated, ill advised approach to the ultimate exit.

One thing for sure; I cannot take that overwhelming lonely sad thing that hits like a slow motion mud tornado.   So, maybe play Julian on saturday, Ocean Beach on Sunday, Midway and Hard rock on either wednesday or thurs.  I am probably not going to hit the Navjo tomorrow night.  Never like that place.  Horrible sound, even though they have big stage and equipment.  Deaf rockers run it, so they are clueless when it comes to my style, or any hint of nuance.  Really clueless.  I think you have to try to be so sound dense, but I have seen it plenty.

Anyway. I am less forlorn than I was 8 hours ago.
Depression must be what that is. It is as physical as it is mental. And it is brutal.  What a stupid thing.  Life is not supposed to be that way. Life is a miraculous sort of thing, that defies logic.  Like why is there life at all?  Wild.  Little creators running around doing stuff and making mischief.
It is very confusing.

Frozen

How do people get out of this?  I know of no one my age who ever did.  It is a frozen panic.  The door is hitting me on my way out.

What have I done?  That is all I can think; what have I done?  I obviously did not really know what I was in for when I did it.  By why did it seem even remotely the way to do things?  I guess it was just pure anger and rebellion turned on myself.  God, am I sorry now.

They say it is never too late.  But they lie.

No Purpose

Not the best day, and not the worst.

I'm not doing very well, I don't think.  I am stunned by how I have managed to lose contact with every group of friends throughout the years.  I would move and leave it all behind.

One or two people seemed to stay in contact.  The others did not, but mostly that was my doing.  Why did I leave in the first place?  It rarely made sense.

Inability to figure out how to live life in the normal way was an anti-skill drilled into me by family.  Some was due to their own mistrust of the world, and some due to the need to destroy me to make themselves feel better.  And I went right along with it.

So, now, I am nothing.  And I do not like this.  It is frightening beyond what anyone should create for himself.   I wonder if it is too late to change in a good way.  All I want to do is move again.  I have no destination in mind, really. And I know I couldn't do it, most likely.   A lot of anger is mixed in with sadness.  Sadness may be a form of anger.  I am not sure.  It feels different but I rarely think good things about anything when sad.

What will I do?  I do think San Diego was a mistake.  If I wanted to land somewhere, I should have made it Colorado, which was my first instinct.  That or Seattle.  Not sure I can take the humidity now, but I don't think I would have gotten sick.  I always do what people push me to do, even if it is wrong.

Got to be a way to fix this
.

DOD

In San Diego's Old Town district, they have a big Day of the Dead festival. It ended yesterday.  We played la musica por la gente three days in a row.  Some of it was OK.  Some was not quite a train wreck, but nothing to brag about, either.

That may be poor English.  I don't care.

The festival was pleasant and where we played was in a shady spot in a yard with old style buildings on three sides.  I guess they may have been houses at one time.   Now they are historical landmarks.  That means non-profits profit in this environment.  What a weird concept--no profit.  I won't go there, but it is actually nonsense.  This is one of the better paying music endeavors.  Getting paid by non profits.  They eschew profit yet are constantly hounding people for money.  Relentlessly.   But it is for a higher purpose, so it is OK if they are greedy.

Actually, I find "not for profit" outfits, and charities to generally be the greediest organizations around.  They get by with it, because, even though people do make a living working for these organizations, they pretend to be holier than thou because their cause is clearly more lofty than whatever it is others do to earn their keep.

That brings me to the tendency for certain groups to constantly pat themselves on the back publicly, as if they are so much better than normal people.  I appreciate various occupations like ambulance drivers, rescue personnel, military, etc.  But those are chosen professions.  They get paid.  They are not necessarily better and more worthy than someone building houses or cars, or whatever.  I get tired of government employees calling themselves public servants and pretending to be more generous and wonderful than everyone else.

You joined the military voluntarily.   And personally, there are few if any dangerous conflicts that I would have sent you to fight since World War II.  I sort of thank you for your service, but only because a strong military is a deterrent.  I do not encourage action in lunatic lnd--North Africa and mid east.  I just don't.  So many people I know put on this weird pious face whenever there is military around, and they oh so humbly proffer the meaningless phrase, "Oh, thank you for your service!".  You don't even know what service those people perform.  See the uniform and knee herk react into fawning spectacle.  Seems phony to me. Sorry.

OI do not thank those who participate in no-knock searches and raids, and militaristic action against civilians for their service.  No thank you to those who enforce bad laws, and do it in improper ways.

But I do not consider a demonstration peaceful if you force traffic to stop and interfere with people who do not care to be part of your mob.  That is force and it is not peaceful.  So, here we go.  Not thanking people who make more money than I do for their service, and not even slightly enamored with the self styled 99%.

The dead behaved very well at the Dia de los Muertes festival, so that is something.

Packed House

What a surprise.  When it cm time to play the Kaffe Meister coffee shop--really good espresso--the place was getting crowded.  By the time we played a couple of songs, it was packed, and remained so until the end.  What an enthusiastic crowd.  Some familiar faces.

This was a good outing.  I think we did well.  The reception was certainly remarkable.  In a place that serves food and various beverages, you are doing well if there is not a lot of chatter.  I'm not one who gets too worked up if people talk, but it is cool to notice their rapt attention.

Maybe that look I saw on some faces was the kind of interest one shows when watching a train derail.  Who knows?  In any case, they were definitely paying attention. My chiropractor and his wife show up, too.  That was cool.

They reacted enthusiastically.  Having Alberto on bass is a crowd pleaser, too.  They like it when he climbs up on the stand up bass.  People go for those things.  It worked out well.

Why Not Me - 10/27/15

If you go here thousands of times, maybe we could play on Jimmy Kimmel.  Really that is the way it works.  Of course I'd rather play Jimmy Fallon show, but Kimmel is just fine with me.  So, if you have software that lets you inundate sites with visits, make it go here  http://songwriter.amplifiertv.com/channel/EnterTheBlueSky     and listen a bunch, or something.  I want numbers, so I don't care about any listening

The Same Wasn't That Great Anyway

It is dawning on me that my life has definitely changed,  and it will never be the same again.  Then I realized that I was not that thrilled with it when it was the same.  I do not like having system malfunctions, but it is probably what is needed to force me to finally either overcome whatever the invisible limiter and saboteur in my life has been, or just succumb and give up.  The former option has fortunately been gaining the upper hand lately.  That is hard to maintain.

But that is the goal, so we try.  I wish I had the means to just travel around the country indefinitely.  I don't even care to go to too many other countries right now.  So, maybe I will quit being frozen lazy and figure it out before it is all over.  Definitely a tough race.

Four days if one or two gigs per day

And most of them pay well.  It is so rare that you hear that in the small time, unknown, original music scene.  But some sets will be covers.  I think we do two hours of original then two hours of covers and spanish songs.  The spanish ones are my favorites.  At least some of them.

I have had little time to practice or even listen on my own. We did some at practice. The viola player likes to call it rehearsal, with practice being whatever you do on your own.  I'm sure I'm meant to have a doctorate in some odd branch of psychology.  Perfect subjects for my doctorate continually drop into my life.   I realize that I am no different, but I prefer not to dwell on that.

What makes it so fun, beside the fact that I like the songs, is that they all are so enthusiastic about my playing.  It always surprises me.  Last night I sat in with Chris and Emily and Richard resonator.  If you do not know who they are, they are the people with whom I sat in last night at Lakeside VFW.  It was on my way home from the house of dignitaries.

Country is actually very hard for me.  It will go along like I expect, then it either goes up when I go down or vice versa.  Country and blues have much in common, but there is that point where one goes one way, and one, the other.  It just takes doing it and before long it all makes sense.  It is still not first nature for the most part.  But I like playing with those guys.  Richard plays a mean Dobro, although his is some other make.  The generic term is "resonator".  

There were very few people at that VFW last night.  Apparently that is unusual. I suspect it was due to the debates. That clientele is the demographic that is interested and involved in some way; posters, bumper stickers, clipboards full of paper looking for signatures.  Even so, it was a good time.

I often feel guilty because all the bending and overblowing (causing the pitch to rise, as opposed to standard bends) that great players have always done seems secondary, at best, to me.  I don't really think about it. I just think the sound or something.  All my life I really focused mostly on single note play.  Now I do chords like crazy.  Lots of split chords. On harmonica that is when you block one or more holes in the middles and play some number of holes on either side. A real variety of sounds can result.  You can sort of imply a note you don't exactly have.  Somehow the chord works instead.

Depends on the texture of the thing whether you want to bend or not.

Still, compared to what lots of people can do, I am surprised at the ones who choose me on purpose. I think only some other harp players like my playing.  There is a harmonica culture to some extent, and little, or even large, cliques with impose these standards. Nothing official, just peer pressure I think.

I have seen forums with comments from people boasting of their ability to bend certain notes and how anyone who can't is a piker, blablabla.  I always feel bad because I rarely make any effort or even think I can do whatever it was they mentioned.  I must enjoy playing. I think it is because I like interacting with people.  I mean, I play a thing that is really not that much fun to play without people either playing, too, or encouraging enough that ...no. I take it back. I rarely like the solo thing, playing for a small crowd.  Much rather be jamming.

No Ninja Door Jam Repair

Some months ago, I didn't think I could rely on myself to get the work done that needs doing over at the resort house.  My friend, Jim, is sure I am employed as a lawn jockey there.  No too far off.

Back then, I brought a drummer on board.  Not to play drums, but he allegedly had skills.  I was having the aquagenic pruritus phenomenon visit me daily; any time I exerted at all.  So it seemed.

He turned out to be a complete lunatic, and I do not mean that lightly.  I may have outlined the disaster many months ago.  I don't recall.

This guy had some fantasy that he was living the life of a samurai warrior, or some other Asian offshoot.  "The true warrior lives as if he has already died; thus they can focus only on being of service to others--like I do."  Grasshopper, give me a friggin break!

Besides the fact that I had to re-do much of his work, he owes me $100.  He went to Arizona so we do not cross paths.  But he has re-written history enough that I hear he is planning on passing through.  Several people would be happen if he did not bother to stop.  Maybe if he bec omes convinced that a real ninja would just stay the hell out of Dodge, he will vanish into the night before we mortals even know the mystic warrior has tread among us.

Due to the hyroxyurea, and my sensitivity to it, the attacks almost ceased for awhile.  I got him out of there, and have gradually been doing more myself.  Lately the AP has returned, despite my improved lab numbers.  But now I have plans and strategies for mitigating the issue.  Plus I decided to do everything I can to vanquish the dangerous blues that want to swallow me.  Fighting to get things done helps.  It is not so easy though.

Today I finished the double door, out-behind-the-house equipment room door jam.  It was half rotted from a prior water heater leak.  It was long ago.  It was a little spray leak in a line, so it went up high.

Be that as it may. Originally I thought the new MFWIC was going to hire Rico (whom we are sure is a cleaner for the CIA) to do the job.  After the secret service visited, I asked if he wanted me to try or was he going to call Rico.  He asked me to go ahead.  Seriously, I am not really a handy man.  I am just a guy who figures out some way to do a thing, and the people who hire me are usually pleased.

This was a bear of a task.  And it definitely showed me that I really may have some physical issues going on, that I can still mange to get things done, I can operate a portable table saw without losing fingers, and I can push on even when dizzy or whatever.  It feels so good when you know the little roadblocks which are on top of the usual difficulties of retro fit, remodel, and working in tight spaces.

I think I pushed about as far as I could without seriously being dangerous.  Right to that edge, plus just a little bit.  Just enough left to put everything away clean up the site, and somehow lose my travel mug.  It was dark pretty quick.  Lighting there is horrible. Seriously the worst outdoor night time lighting ever.  They paid a designer to do that.  Sick.

It occurred to me that the ex employee ninja psycho claimed that the problem was that the whole thing was interior door stuff.  He was wrong, of course.  His vision included solid wood doors with dents made by a router to look like louvres. The present door has real vent capabilities, not just pretend.   Anyway, I am convinced that this guy could not do the job.  Even so, I had visions of him sneaking up on the project in a ninja suit, shouting fake Japanese.  The vision did not go beyond that.