Baton Down The Hatches

One More Day In Depressing Baton Rouge

Baton Rouge is throwing everything at us in the way of miserable weather, a plague of toads, a plague of flies, a plague of ants and a plague of rain, plus a downright chilly night last night which exposed the fact that I don't have any winter type clothing at all. It has all been lost or stolen.

The past few nights, the almost constant rainfall compelled a couple of toads to join us on the patio where we sleep. "I thought frogs liked the water," ruminated Howard.

"Those aren't frogs, they're toads, Howard."

"Oh..."

Yesterday morning, we found a use for the Baton Rouge Sunday Advocate when we created fly swatters out of it and went to war against the pests, killing about 50 and wounding another dozen or so. Pretty soon we had whittled them down to the smartest and fastest few. Those will reproduce, passing along their genes, so that our childrens children will have faster, smarter flies to contend with.

I got an all day bus pass and went to the big Wal-Mart where I bought headphones. I got the little, "ear bud"  style, after the guy in Electronics assured me that they are making them better than they were a few years ago when you couldn't hear any bass through them unless you press them into your ear canals.

I then got an 8 gigabyte flash drive, so I can at least back up this blog, and once again begin to compile all my lyrics and stories.

Those are two items which the police stole from me or "accidentally" threw away, and which I have a small chance of getting back if I ever get officer Chutz on the phone. The chance I have of getting them back is the same chance that officer Chutz is a decent and professional cop who wouldn't throw a bunch of stuff away just out of meanness or to hinder a homeless person out of personal prejudice or a belief that the homeless person probably stole the stuff.

East For The "Fest."

My Friend, Sue! My Friend, Sue!

I now turn my eyes to the east in preparation for the Bayfest Music Festival in Mobile, Alabama, October 5th, 6th and 7th. The trip has been delayed one more day.

Howard wants to come along with me (of course, he does) and we would be on a bus for New Orleans (as part of the first "leg" of the Journey) right now, if it weren't for the fact that a check for the balance of my account at the jail, which was mailed 4 days ago has not made it 30 miles to the other jail, yet, or it has disappeared like my harmonica, jump drive, capo, picks, flashlight and other stuff that I won't become aware of the absence of until I reach for them and they just aren't there.

Last year the Bayfest people had said that "next year" (this year) when they wouldn't have any more millions of dollars from British Petroleum as a sort of salve to ease the discomfort caused by a huge oil spill, they (the Bayfest people) wouldn't be able to attract the same caliber of talent as they did last year, and we wouldn't be seeing no Reba McIntyres and no Motley Crues or Mary J. Bliges.

But, as a teaser of this years lineup, I will say that my Journey will include a stop in New Orleans where I will try to play Loverboy to Sue hidden in a Bush under the Pretty Lights before getting out of there because the place kind of gives me the willies (as in Nelson) and I shouldn't be roaming the streets (as in Roman Street).

First Stop New Orleans

The first stop will be in New Orleans to find Sue, hoping among other things that she is alright and that she has a blanket or a sleeping bag to give to me. She is a repository for such things, and goes around handing them out to homeless people who are too irresponsible to make sure that they have them; pigeons aren't the only things that she takes care of...

The stuff that came up missing after my arrest is going to be a real pain to replace; it will set me back so that, instead of getting things like a better guitar and a good microphone and an adapter for the Samsung laptop, which has a battery that could allow me to record music in a remote, quiet place where I don't have to worry about traffic noise or looking over my shoulder; I will be worrying about things like clothing and toothpaste and keeping my laundry clean and my face shaved -real grass roots homeless type stuff.

The Atkins Diet

Does one have to be a living legend,

In order to make a living?

I have been listening to a "steady diet" Chet Atkins on Youtube and feel like I need to re-teach myself the guitar. I know there are plenty of musicians who are still successful despite not being as good as Chet, namely everyone else who plays the instrument LOL!

I understand that, not having heard any bluegrass music at all growing up, it sounds almost incomprehensible to me because I've never been trying to make those sounds, but it's the same as when I hear flamenco, classical or guys like Alan Holdsworth or Mark Knopfler or Kaki King and the "how the hell do they do that?" part of my brain wont let me rest.

Maybe I will never want to write a flamenco piece, but it would just be nice to be able to.

Hopefully the Bayfest crowd and their more pedestrian tastes "Play some Neil Young..." will boost my confidence as a musician. I'm just about virtuoso-ed out right now.

I used to think that I was pretty good at the Grateful Dead stuff that I have put a lot of my focus into; but now I am listening to Jerry Garcia playing bluegrass (on Youtube, again) and am dealing with issues of insecurity...