Life after the dog has done gone is slowly returning to "normal."
Pretty Big Show Saturday
Saturday evening (August 23rd) we have Crosby Stills and Nash coming to the Saenger Theater, directly across the street from where I have been sleeping lately, without the dog.
I am brushing up upon the couple of their songs which I do.
I don't usually enjoy doings songs which are based upon 3 part harmony, but it is sometimes fun to jump from the Nash part to the Crosby part between verses. It is hard enough to find Beatles songs to do which aren't compromised by the absence of McCartney or Lennon.
I am trying to memorize "Marrakesh Express" the way a student might cram for a test. I never did know all the words. I will add that to "Teach (your children well)" and maybe try to make some money off of those who are my age and who stayed the course and became wealthy in the 80's rather than jumping ship like myself, and who will recognize most of what I play outside of the 2 or 3 CSN tunes that I will have ready.
The Dog
I still sense its presence. When I am distracted by some kind of loud noise, and I turn my head to see where it came from; I can still imagine out of the corner of my eye, Shamoo perking his ears up and turning his head right along with me.
I have had 2 miserable days of busking to coincide with the drying up of the dog-skeezing money, which random people were just handing me after they petted Shamoo.
I have not been up and down Bourbon Street much since he ran off; but I half expect to see some skeezer sitting on the sidewalk with a crude rope around the dogs neck (he escaped the leash and collar which I still have) and a sign with words to the effect of "my little pooch is hungry and thirsty and needs a 30 dollar flea bath at the dog parlor..."
All I will do is tell the person: "I used to have this dog," and then greet Shamoo, who might respond in a way that the person will believe that I once had the dog; but probably won't give him back to me because of the up to 50 dollars per night that the dog/sign combo is bringing in.
I must admit that I held on to the dog longer than I should have; to the detriment of my personal life and the discomfort of the animal, which I think had been living in an air conditioned place before I found it; for that same reason.
It's hard to let that kind of money off the leash, so to speak; and the young ladies cooing and ooh-ing and aww-ing gets kind of addictive, too.
Saturday evening (August 23rd) we have Crosby Stills and Nash coming to the Saenger Theater, directly across the street from where I have been sleeping lately, without the dog.
I am brushing up upon the couple of their songs which I do.
I don't usually enjoy doings songs which are based upon 3 part harmony, but it is sometimes fun to jump from the Nash part to the Crosby part between verses. It is hard enough to find Beatles songs to do which aren't compromised by the absence of McCartney or Lennon.
I am trying to memorize "Marrakesh Express" the way a student might cram for a test. I never did know all the words. I will add that to "Teach (your children well)" and maybe try to make some money off of those who are my age and who stayed the course and became wealthy in the 80's rather than jumping ship like myself, and who will recognize most of what I play outside of the 2 or 3 CSN tunes that I will have ready.
The Dog
I still sense its presence. When I am distracted by some kind of loud noise, and I turn my head to see where it came from; I can still imagine out of the corner of my eye, Shamoo perking his ears up and turning his head right along with me.
I have had 2 miserable days of busking to coincide with the drying up of the dog-skeezing money, which random people were just handing me after they petted Shamoo.
I have not been up and down Bourbon Street much since he ran off; but I half expect to see some skeezer sitting on the sidewalk with a crude rope around the dogs neck (he escaped the leash and collar which I still have) and a sign with words to the effect of "my little pooch is hungry and thirsty and needs a 30 dollar flea bath at the dog parlor..."
All I will do is tell the person: "I used to have this dog," and then greet Shamoo, who might respond in a way that the person will believe that I once had the dog; but probably won't give him back to me because of the up to 50 dollars per night that the dog/sign combo is bringing in.
I must admit that I held on to the dog longer than I should have; to the detriment of my personal life and the discomfort of the animal, which I think had been living in an air conditioned place before I found it; for that same reason.
It's hard to let that kind of money off the leash, so to speak; and the young ladies cooing and ooh-ing and aww-ing gets kind of addictive, too.
I think it's kind of obvious that you should just get another dog!
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