Saturday, December 20, 2014

The Blue Blues

I have tried to fix the annoying pop up ad problem; guessing that it might have to do with the free "visitor counter" software; of the type which was the cause of a previous problem.
Let my know via comment if the annoying ads are gone....

Last night, it rained throughout, and it was cold.
This just about dictated the fact that I would sleep under the dock, wrapped in my only heavy quilt, the bird feather rat shit one, under the dock.

This impelled me to cough up (no pun intended) the money for batteries for my spotlight.
Going under the dock with a flashlight makes it easier to see the rocks which one is stepping upon, and to see if there is already another homeless guy sleeping on your cardboard before you lie down, and to see what is still left there; like heavy quilts.

I had run into Blue, at the Unique Grocery, earlier in the evening, as I was ostensibly on my way to the Lilly spot to play; the rain having stopped, finally, after a 6 hour deluge.

Blue is a stripper, but was kind of on strike this particular night, in protest of a certain manager who was running the club where she works. "I'm not going to work if Keith is there." she said over her phone to someone, at one point.

When I first encountered her, in front of The Unique Grocery, she told me that she had been looking for me.

This made me wonder why she had been looking for me; perhaps, I thought, because perhaps I was one of the few true friends she has, in her life as a stripper.

Her husband had died.

Her husband was 27 and had overdosed on something. Something which he had waited to partake of until Blue had fallen asleep.
When Blue woke up and tried to steal back some of the blankets which the guy was laying upon, she had noticed something odd in the way that he didn't flinch as she yanked upon them.
She checked his eyes; and they wouldn't contract; and were glazed over.

Then, like Juliet, Blue gathered up all the poison at her disposal, and snorted the half gram of cocaine and took a number of valium; washed down with hard liquor.

She woke up hours later, next to a now cold body, and like Juliet, lamented the fact that there had not been enough poison left for her to be able to join him. Blue loves pretty hard, I guess.

Then, of course, it had been awkward for her to explain the circumstances around the death (why she had discovered the body but then had not called 911 until 10 hours later. "I was trying to join him in death, like Juliet. Don't you read Shakespeare, detective?" 

I walked toward the Lilly spot, accompanied by Blue, whom I felt was leading me, even though she didn't really know where the Lilly spot was.

She was hungry. I bought her a sandwich off of my food stamp card.

She talked a lot about her husbands death; that subject trumping the weather and other current events for the moment.

I had met the guy, and was impressed by how easy going and friendly he was; and how there was no trace of defensiveness or jealousy in him, despite the fact that Blue and I had a certain "closeness" a little rendezvous in the past and, surely, he must have intuited that there was a bond between his wife and I; one which would have her seeking me out as a shoulder to cry on, after he would die; but he just seemed happy to be with Blue.

The weather was too miserable for me to have considered playing; and, after Blue had given me the second half of the sandwich which I had gotten for her and then went off, I sat at the Lilly spot, realizing that, since I had neglected to get batteries for my spotlight, and was not going to play in front of the window behind which Lilly's ex husband sleeps; as per my promise the night before not to do so; the best thing for me to do was to get batteries for the spotlight, and then to go under the dock to sleep.

I was confident that there would be nobody outside; hanging around, who might spot me going under the dock. It was raining lightly and cold enough that my fingertips were stinging.

It is Saturday evening; it is about 5:30 PM. The rain has stopped, but it is pretty chilly.

I have put brand new strings on my guitar, tuning them to the music playing on the Starbucks sound system (all recorded at A440 pitch) and had moved the heavy quilt to the sign spot earlier this morning, so I can crash there, if it is not raining; and probably be warm for the first time in a few nights, by combining the blanket which was not quite enough at the sign spot with the heavy quilt, which was just barely enough under the dock (granted those rocks retain the cold) and maybe get a good night's sleep.

I still have plans to play at the ramps where the sign skeezers skeeze for extra income.

But my plans of going into the desert of Arizona through the coldest part of the winter are currently on hold, as I have an appointment with the dental clinic of LSU on January 15th (an appointment which I had made back in October and just remembered).

I don't want to wait another 4 months or more to deal with the teeth which may just be causing the quinsey and the swollen throat glands.

My biggest fear is that they will pull teeth out, and then tell me that, since I only have less than half of my teeth left; why not just pull them all out; and put in dentures, which will look as obviously like dentures as a jet black toupee on a guy who is otherwise obviously 90 years old looks like a toupee.

Would they help my annunciation, when I sing? -There is a reason that Elton John keeps the gap between his front teeth, rather than pay for a perfect smile, out of his millions. His tone is a product of the exact shape of his oral cavity (funny talking about a homosexual that way...) and "correcting" his teeth might just ruin his trademark sound, and affect his resonance (or even worse, lose him a boyfriend).

And, David Letterman just wouldn't be quite as funny without his, I guess he reckons...

Let me put a preemptive: "You ain't got no great voice tone to worry about losing"
Just to save some of you a few keystrokes in the comment box...


Alex said...

I made the mistake of listening to another of your sound samples and dude you are awful.

I would choose oral health over aural health if I were you because the latter may not be possible.

Daniel McKenna said...

Which one did you listen to?; one of them was supposed to have my phone ring tone playing in the background; with me singing and playing along; but the track got deleted; and it sounds pretty ragged, minus the phone; for example; and don't forget that Leslie was banging his bongos out of time on a lot of my attempts to record there....
the goal now is to "suck" in high fidelity (would it sound good if I played right? -sound quality; recording techniques; mic placement; not too much emphasis on tight music...

Alex said...

It was the last one, the one that's 7minutes or so at Leslie's house.

The thing is, that if you sounded inherently good, a good voice would come through the bad guitar and bongoes and all of that.

I know this is cruel to say but you just sound like a street bum.

Can you get some singing tips from some of the good singers around there?