I woke up around the 1:30 PM time that has been an automatic waking time for me; something that I have attributed to the fact that that is when the sun is at high noon here, an hour and a half after it has crossed the Central Standard Time line, over by Pensacola, Florida.
Having slept outdoors for years might have set my internal clock to the physical position of the sun, rather than the hands of a clock.
I had fallen asleep with NPR on my radio, and woke up as "Big Freedia," a local artist, was being interviewed about the roots of "bounce" music, which he was one of the pioneers of.
It kept me from drifting off to sleep, just barely, as I listened, hoping that I might gain a respect for bounce music, or an understanding of it; or that Big Freedia would somehow redeem it for me.
It sort of worked out that way, especially after he started naming the beats that were played as examples: "That one's the black clap, this next one's the pied piper, that's the chill out shout, etc." which created a bit of order for me out of what I had always thought was the chaos of "bounce" music. At least that much "thought" goes into bounce music, I guess.
Then a show about Lincoln Beachey kept me awake for another hour.
He was one of the first stunt pilots ever, who flew in the early 20th century; and most likely the first pilot to ever nose-dive a plane into the San Francisco Bay and then drown in it.
Then, it was time to come to my senses, make coffee and start my day at 3 PM.
I possessed coffee, thanks to having made about 17 bucks in an hour of busking that seemed more like 2 and a half, last night in a temperature that started out at 52, and had probably dropped to about 46, at the time I knocked off at 12:36 AM.
I had walked home, to save the $1.25 trolley fare, weighed down by my laptop, upon which I had posted yesterday's post, along with the Herb Alpert song at Starbucks; the can of ground coffee, a box of Raisin Bran and 2 cans of food for Harold the cat. A small bottle of orange juice was the first food that I had had that day, but it gave me enough energy to make the 30 minute walk home.
7 of the 17 bucks that I had made, gone already, I thought.
My new method of recording music will allow me to improve upon the Alpert song "incrementally."
The next step will be to sing the correct lyrics to it. Then I will have the same guitar (that I only have to fix one glitch in) the right lyrics and the same drum beat.
I no longer rush to blend everything together and make it "complete" in one sitting. I still have the components compartmentalized and could theoretically spend an evening just re-singing the lead vocal line, for example.
What would often happen in the past would be, I would add things to "fill out" the sound, like applying spackling compound until I ruined them. Then, they would never see the light of day.
It stands to reason that, if it takes me 3 hours to get a decently recorded rhythm guitar down, then it should take me at least that long to add rhythm guitar #2 to it, following the same procedure.
Tonight (Saturday) is forecast to be my last chance to play in temperatures above 50 degrees for the next week.
So, my work is cut out for me. I'll use my last $1.25 to take the trolley to town; then use my Starbucks card to grab a coffee on my way to the Lilly Pad. If the situation presents itself, I might buy someone their coffee off the card in exchange for the 2 or 3 bucks in cash, as a safety net against having to walk home if I don't make anything.
Hopefully, Bobby will give me a little bud of weed on my way out. So, I have that going for me.
And...I will be less than 5 days away from getting my next allotment of food stamp money. So many positives to consider...
Even though the weed distorts my sense of time (see "it felt like 2 and a half" above) so that after 2 and a half hours of playing, I feel like I've been out there all night, and am ready to call it quits. It sort of makes it more fun for me and I harbor no disillusion that it is making me play any better. In fact it makes me forget some of the chords that I am having so much fun not playing.
Having slept outdoors for years might have set my internal clock to the physical position of the sun, rather than the hands of a clock.
I had fallen asleep with NPR on my radio, and woke up as "Big Freedia," a local artist, was being interviewed about the roots of "bounce" music, which he was one of the pioneers of.
It kept me from drifting off to sleep, just barely, as I listened, hoping that I might gain a respect for bounce music, or an understanding of it; or that Big Freedia would somehow redeem it for me.
It sort of worked out that way, especially after he started naming the beats that were played as examples: "That one's the black clap, this next one's the pied piper, that's the chill out shout, etc." which created a bit of order for me out of what I had always thought was the chaos of "bounce" music. At least that much "thought" goes into bounce music, I guess.
Then a show about Lincoln Beachey kept me awake for another hour.
He was one of the first stunt pilots ever, who flew in the early 20th century; and most likely the first pilot to ever nose-dive a plane into the San Francisco Bay and then drown in it.
Then, it was time to come to my senses, make coffee and start my day at 3 PM.
I possessed coffee, thanks to having made about 17 bucks in an hour of busking that seemed more like 2 and a half, last night in a temperature that started out at 52, and had probably dropped to about 46, at the time I knocked off at 12:36 AM.
I had walked home, to save the $1.25 trolley fare, weighed down by my laptop, upon which I had posted yesterday's post, along with the Herb Alpert song at Starbucks; the can of ground coffee, a box of Raisin Bran and 2 cans of food for Harold the cat. A small bottle of orange juice was the first food that I had had that day, but it gave me enough energy to make the 30 minute walk home.
7 of the 17 bucks that I had made, gone already, I thought.
My new method of recording music will allow me to improve upon the Alpert song "incrementally."
The next step will be to sing the correct lyrics to it. Then I will have the same guitar (that I only have to fix one glitch in) the right lyrics and the same drum beat.
I no longer rush to blend everything together and make it "complete" in one sitting. I still have the components compartmentalized and could theoretically spend an evening just re-singing the lead vocal line, for example.
What would often happen in the past would be, I would add things to "fill out" the sound, like applying spackling compound until I ruined them. Then, they would never see the light of day.
It stands to reason that, if it takes me 3 hours to get a decently recorded rhythm guitar down, then it should take me at least that long to add rhythm guitar #2 to it, following the same procedure.
Tonight (Saturday) is forecast to be my last chance to play in temperatures above 50 degrees for the next week.
So, my work is cut out for me. I'll use my last $1.25 to take the trolley to town; then use my Starbucks card to grab a coffee on my way to the Lilly Pad. If the situation presents itself, I might buy someone their coffee off the card in exchange for the 2 or 3 bucks in cash, as a safety net against having to walk home if I don't make anything.
Hopefully, Bobby will give me a little bud of weed on my way out. So, I have that going for me.
And...I will be less than 5 days away from getting my next allotment of food stamp money. So many positives to consider...
Even though the weed distorts my sense of time (see "it felt like 2 and a half" above) so that after 2 and a half hours of playing, I feel like I've been out there all night, and am ready to call it quits. It sort of makes it more fun for me and I harbor no disillusion that it is making me play any better. In fact it makes me forget some of the chords that I am having so much fun not playing.
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