Want to read Slashdot from your mobile device? Point it at m.slashdot.org and keep reading!


Forgot your password?
DEAL: For $25 - Add A Second Phone Number To Your Smartphone for life! Use promo code SLASHDOT25. Also, Slashdot's Facebook page has a chat bot now. Message it for stories and more. Check out the new SourceForge HTML5 Internet speed test! ×

Journal Journal: November One 2

Okay, so it's only still officially the first of November in a time zone or two. The late post is partially because I wanted to actually watch The Daily Show for once and partially because I took so long to find the damn CD.

It's amazing how your memory of a particular tune can distort with time if you don't hear it for years. I experienced this upon finding a CD when what eminated from the speakers sharply differed from the version in my head. Trying to remember *which* song it was, I Googled variations on the phrase "80s singles hits list" but it doesn't matter for my point: I didn't remember NEARLY that much keyboard, and the guitar was much thinner than I thought. And wow, I can sing better than this guy, but I'll be damned if I can recall feeling this specific brand of smugness fifteen years ago.

Similarly, I should never have purchased Flash Gordon on DVD back in 2001, and zedette shouldn't have watched Duran Duran on whatever late night show featured them an hour ago, promoting their slightly-less-makeupped "comeback" (read: outta money). These simple comforts could remain pleasant memories rather than embarassing us, "Did I *really* enjoy this tripe?"

Okay, to make a short story longer, I have to prequalify things by saying this is from March of 1996, since which time have transpired nearly nine years of learning how to play guitar, microphone and engineer instruments, mix recorded tracks, and above all, sing. Holy crap, I evidently thought I was Eddie Vedder. We recorded this track with a guy who had a fair amount of studio experience, probably a little more than I have now. He had a great ear for country music, but that is unfortunately not our genre, so we were never really happy with the EQ or the mix. The guitars are thin, and the vox are a bit too far out front. And now, it's worse by nature of the preamble.

So my memory of this song is rather tainted, but not quite as drastically as I mention above, since we performed it regularly for years, through losing the other guitarist (he provided the lovely solo through the whole damn thing) and changing bits as we grew tired of the version we had. The bassist wasn't quite ready to record this, but he can play the track well now ;) I'll try and find recordings, I believe there are a couple.

I'm actually laughing as I listen to this; I sound like there's blockage in my teeth and nose. But of all the songs I have this age, I still like this one. The overall vibe is still there in this version, and the drums still sound pretty good, although I hear that he's improved as well. Oh yeah, the weird rising sound is a harmonic on a fretless bass. I forgot he used to do that.

All right, enough excuses. I didn't plan on this much, but observation kept flowing. In summation, every year since probably 1994, once Halloween is gone, this piece gets stuck in my head, and I think of my brother (this is one of three efforts composed upon his lyrics). No events to commemorate, nothing in particular requiring homage or reflection, this is just my personal attachment to the date November One.

Update - 3 November:
It was Eric Johnson.

I'm not sure if it was High Landrons or not, but that's the song which was running through my head when I awoke today.

Eric Johnson is such a great guitarist, and when I blew the dust off the album Ah Via Musicom, I was as excited as when I purchased Flash Gordon for something like nine bucks. Fortunately, Eric fared better than the "Quarterback, New York Jets," and I was still able to appreciate the technical skill required to make a guitar do that, because the songs themselves sound quite dated. Not only does Eric have the perfect voice to blend in with hundreds of bands like Falco, Howard Jones, Ah-Ha, Dexy, and all those Midnight Runners--whose albums are only "cool" when played in nostalgic situations, like "Thursday! 80s Night!"--but each tune is also heavily produced, which by itself dates the music. In a way that dates it even more.

While I still like the music for the occasional "Wow, MAN, is he good. JEEZ, listen to *that* part!" it gives me, I won't be searching today for his CD like I did for mine two nights ago. ;)

Afterthought: All but the last of those bands came from a trip down Memory Lane. No one under 22 admitted.


Journal Journal: Eclipse My Ass 6

The world is flat.

There are a few dozen or so infidels across the land who are planting seeds of an appaling fabrication, saying the world is not the center of the universe but rather it orbits the sun.


They say the moon in turn orbits the world (at least it's not entirely delusional) and that occasionally the world passes BETWEEN the moon and sun, casting its shadow on the moon, a spectacle ultimately visible from the ground.


It's a shame that in this day and age, Satan's hordes will attempt to spread disinformation--instilling paranoia--to advance their own clandestine, sinister causes.

*sigh* Clouds suck.

User Journal

Journal Journal: OMG SHUT UP! 11

This morning we had breakfast and bought dog food. When we arrived at the checkout counter, the girl who helped us had a--forgive me if there is a more politically correct term--lazy eye.

Zed Junior, who is 23 months old, saw her and said "EYE!." He's not capable of producing many sentences beyond two or three words yet, and for more than one, it's got to be a more familiar subject. In an attempt to redirect, Zedette looked down at the packet of birthday cards in Junior's hand and said, "Yes, that's Shrek's eye."

I wasn't looking directly at my son, but peripheral vision told me he was watching where the cart was going, not his hands; I'm 99.3% certain he was not looking at the card when he said that. Of course, the girl ignored it (hopefully didn't hear it, but that's also very doubtful given Junior's vocal volume).

This is partially a rant, but more of a cry for help and advice (rdewald, if you've had kids at this age, I'm eager to feel your wisdom here)

  • Parents: What should I do? I'm a first-time dad. I've anticipated many scenarios, formulated a plan for some of them, but I'm lost here. What do you tell someone who doesn't grasp the concepts of sensitivity and discretion and won't for some time? Especially when you generally encourage that someone to absorb all he can from his surroundings and develop his ability to express what he thinks? What sort of things/distractions/prevention/etc have worked for you veterans out there?
  • My impression is that people who have visible differences generally would like to be treated normally, but I have no firsthand experience, so I might be wrong. Is ignoring such bursts of observation appropriate? Is an apology the best approach? I'm a pretty discipline-oriented dad, and I don't tolerate public tantrums, but this isn't something I can tell him is wrong (at least not this young), and I'm not even sure it *is* wrong, aside from the discomfort on the part of the girl whose eye he noticed. What sort of response intrudes the least?

Journal Journal: a question that might be less stupid 5

At least hopefully it's less stupid. I keep finding this in my web server log. It only happens when I'm browsing slashdot. There's definitely a cause and effect thing going on here, but what is it? [timestamp] "GET http://slashdot.org/ok.txt HTTP/1.0" 404

It'll occur maybe once per /. session, but this second will happen frequently (~7 in 1d12 </BlastFromPast>) while I'm slashdotting:

10.6.9.(my internal addresses) [time] "GET /partner/js/ads.js HTTP/1.1" 404

When I dig slashdot.org:


Browsers on my internal machines hit my web server any time they try to access a domain that doesn't exist. IIRC, it's my DNS doing this, trying to append my domain to what it already can't resolve. I'm wondering if there's an ad server that no longer has DNS or at least has a nameserver I can't find a route to. In any case, the first line has me baffled.

It's funny.  Laugh.

Journal Journal: disappearing journal entries? 2

I am a complete noob and dolt, and I've removed the proof.

*smacks forehead*

To quote turg from a few months ago, "Google is your friend."
Note: This /|\ was a very fun afternoon. Visit if you have an hour to kill.

User Journal

Journal Journal: Friends V 3

Hogwash McFly and I are the only people on /. who find this funny. Damit. update: Okay, someone with mod points finally found it.

And loucura! tickled my geeky funny bone yesterday when I read this.

anon*, untermensch, and Pluvius from the first few posts in this thread

This thread led me to befriend bfg9000 and CleverNickName, who's grabbed my attention before, but I don't remember what. I never realized he's Wil, either. Seems like a cool guy.

VisorGuy, a.k.a. PDA_Monkey. Gee, I feel bad, since it appears I pretty much caused it.

I'm wondering if he detests Quake as much as this would make it seem (yes, I still play it though it's no longer cool). It's not that I love the game so much that I'm wondering how he could hate it, but if he'd change his nick over my confusion...

He's quite open about being a Christian, so I suppose it's possible the violence in Quake is related to this. I'm hoping he just had been procrastinating what he already meant to do. I'd hate to think I spoiled what he considered a good name before I opened my yap. If someone showed me strong evidence that Hitler used the alias "zedmelon", I'd be seriously bummed.

Maybe I'm blowing all of this out of proportion; the conversation that's pestering my self-doubt happened in a discussion about Doom3 (semi-directly, at least), and he did transfer my spot in his friends list to the new account.

...but he hasn't answered my IM, either. :|

Update - 11:50 pm (8 hours later) different time zones and schedules sure can pile up the doubt. Everything's fine. ;)

I rarely use IM these days (probably should, since I work from home), but I left it on thinking he's reply in a while, and then forgot it was running. Glad I did; he was just detained all day, and I'd have remembered while I was trying to fall asleep (yes, I'm the kind of nerd who loses sleep over pissing off my friends).


Journal Journal: Moderation IX 2


I've been really good at my "sparingly" approach to distractions (including /.) lately. At least I thought so. I stayed logged in for a few days and noticed in blinder's JE about Ep III that I have mod points again. I feel bad for letting so many points expire in the last couple-three months, so I'm going to try to get them all done in the next (insert timespan here).

I really liked this post for the humor value, but can't mod it because I've already posted in that JE.

I really don't care for the RIAA, but this is still a very good point. Insightful.

I've modded couple of trolling flamebaiters as interesting.

In the same discussion, very interesting and welcome to my friends list. Although I read his .sig as I clicked "moderate"...
Brain damaged primates don't walk upright. They moderate posts on Slashdot.
and couldn't completely stifle the resultant flinch. ;)

The Internet

Journal Journal: where do you register your domains? 6

Recently disillusioned by Register.com but needing to register another couple domain names, I'm wondering where some of my ./ friends might recommend to send my hard-earned cash in exchange for another little chunk of cyber-heaven.

I seem to recall seeing somewhere that some registry services will register the domain for you but retain actual ownership of the name itself; avoiding this would be my only real prerequisite besides the obvious wanting a good rate. I don't need hosting.

...so where do you register when you register your domains?

GoDaddy wins the pricewar (well, MyDomain had 'em by $.45 but lost the edge with a borked namesearch script). Thanks to all of you who replied.

User Journal

Journal Journal: stupid mobile phones!!!!

  • MOM: Shouting does NOT somehow reinforce or bolster the signal to or from your mobile phone when you're in an area with less-than-ideal service! It will NOT allow me to hear you any better!

    Please note that some may dispute this claim before realizing they have confused the definition of "better" with the definition of "louder"

    All it will do is make me wince in pain when the signal *IS* good enough to allow your voice to be transmitted over the line, because I'm already crunching the handset through my skull in an attempt to make out the alarm code you're trying to tell me while you drive through the most desolate span of underdeveloped terrain left on the continent.

  • DAD: Read the paragraph to Mom and remove the part about the alarm code, and insert something about taking care of your dog, or anything else, really. THEN assume the rest of it is meant for you.
  • BOTH of you: If I have not heard or comprehended what you've said, repeat it in a normal voice. You have a digital phone that is either a one or a zero. On or off. Signal or not. It will not become more useful if you increase the volume of the sound you are attempting to send. You cannot make a bigger one or a bigger zero, and even if you could, my chances of receiving that one or zero will not have changed. Please remember this when you're chatting with your respective spouses, any of my step siblings, anyone else, or above all, ME. I can't believe that after so much hearing loss, I can still experience actual physical pain while using the damn phone.

I'm entirely too busy for this; I should not be crowding my already overstuffed schedule with a post that's mostly w(h)ine. But this is so frustrating it will bug me for an hour, further distracting me if I don't get it off my chest, and I know this rant was MUCH quicker than even walking upstairs to enjoy an actual physical real live human shoulder. *sniff*

Sometimes I miss the good ol' analog days.


Journal Journal: Friends IV 2

  • VisorGuy (see here), for his clever reference to a geeky cult movie in his sig, "Hallo, My name is Inigo Montoya. You kill -9 my process. Prepare to die!" Congratulations on your five years, too.
  • bethanie, for her supportive words to both me and my friend Sam

Journal Journal: My boy is 21 today 4

This JE should actually be called "My son was 21 yesterday, but it didn't sound as good.

We had no beer, no party. In three months he'll be 24, and we'll do it then.

User Journal

Journal Journal: Long Overdue 1

I suck.

Four people took time from their day to reply to a Journal Entry I made, and I've waited over a month to respond. If you are one of those four, and you still care about a reply, you'll see it below. And I'm sorry.

Except sedawkgrep, you're just a lamer.

I've been trying to avoid /. since I know it has a knack for consuming hours of my time within just a few minutes, and I should concentrate on being more constructive and productive (being BROKE-ASS will do that to your thinking), but I should have at least left some closure after my last JE.

Some of you know that last month I intended to wear a shirt to a bar whose owner would most definitely take offense at my wearing the shirt. It sported the logo for the Green Light Tavern, to which I added "Fack the," making it a nice, custom "Fack the Green Light" shirt. If you really care about why, it's in my last JE.

First off, I must repeat that I suck, because I wussed out on myself. It's not that I changed my mind; I could swear honestly that it was unintentional, reinforcing that assertion with plenty of examples of how scatterbraied I've been in recent months, but who knows what the subconscious can really do?

I realized that removing the (near) profanity and changing it to "Boycott the" would mean being able to reason with more people having avoided providing them the opportunity to dismiss me as a foul-mouthed, ignorant punk with a chip on his shoulder and no real agenda other than the whiny or self-destructive need for attention. I also knew that if my resolve to disrespect a local businessman within the walls of his own establishment proved to escalate into matters eventually requiring court appearances, my ca[u]se wouldn't benefit much from a predisposition of that nature on the part of the judge. Especially with Smitty (the bar owner) and his "local businessman" stature clearly meaning more to the community and local economy than I would, having moved out of the city limits two years ago. If you wonder exactly how much consideration a bar owner receives AFA being a businessman, then you'd have to visit my hometown to understand that it's not an uncommon viewpoint. I've heard we have the highest bar-per-capita ratio in the state and sixth-highest in the entire nation. Lovely context, ain't it?

So, with that in mind, I tried using bleach and and Shout and a bleach pen and scrubbed the "fack" out of it, but evidently not the ink. I left the thing to soak in bleach water for a couple days in the guest bathroom sink.

Remembering the shirt shortly before gig time, I rinsed it as best I could and threw it into the dryer, knowing it wouldn't be dry in time. I also noted that the ink was still quite readable, so I just need to accept my profanity shirt and love him for who he is, a profane shirt. Damn Sharpies. Permanent. Marks most anything.

At zero hour, I grabbed my son and put the shirt on a hanger, hoping the Windows-down (sorry) drive to the babysitter would help, but it wasn't enough. Thinking of the band, I was doubting my idea's claim to "best option," and I was not at all enamored by the idea of wearing a wet T-shirt all night (no, it would most certainly NOT have increased club attendance, so maybe I should have). So I decided to wear the shirt while we rehearsed and loaded gear onto the bus, then change for the show, telling the guys, "I'm serious about this shirt and playing there again."

Much to my surprise, our drummer thought the shirt was hilarious. With one confirmed person on my side, I decided to wear it. He offered to let me use his dryer, and I accepted.

You can see where this is going, right?

We waited for one member of the band who didn't show for an hour (I could've dried my dang shirt at home) and loaded the bus, then we left. 15 minutes later, nearly there, I remembered my shirt. Shit.

The idea was suggested that I was deep-down a bit scared to wear it, and that I therefore intentionally left it in the dryer. That might be the case, but I really don't think so. I felt genuinely irritated at myself for forgetting, so I'm still mostly convinced I wanted to wear it. Still, subconscious crap is something I've not studied at all, so who knows? Either way, I'm irritated because I took the time to make an overinflated JE regarding the issue (therefore requiring this also overinflated followup JE), only to drop the ball when time came to execute the plan.

so, on to the four unrequieted comments in the last JE:


Foolish? Yes. Meaningless? Well, not completely.

That's probably the best way I've seen this phrased. Thanks for reaffirming it.

On the website, thanks. I told the designer (our vocalist) you liked it. He tries to revamp the site every couple years, so it'll be replaced soon. We'll see if the next site is an improvement or not. ;)

he's lucky not to get to know your knuckles

Like Sam, I'm not a hugely violent guy. Although knowing that he's had a chunk of ear bitten off (before Tyson made it fashionable) in a barroom brawl, he'd probably have kicked the shit outta me. I was prepared for that as well, I figured I wouldn't have a problem selling his bar for profit ;). All I really want is for him to reimburse my Mom. A sincere apology as well would make it perfectly fine with me.

Yeah, the Green Light isn't a great place at all, but the music scene in this town sucks big time, especially for original bands. Since anything is better than nothing, part of me feels guilty for placing this limitation on the rest of the group.

He's one of the few club owners who still likes to foster the original music, and we'd probably play there a lot more if we weren't content to spend more time writing and recording.

He's also put in a stage that's actually much cooler than I expected the first time someone told me it was there. Yeah, it's a dive, but the circumstances make it more bearable. Except my personal circumstances of course.

And you're still scared. q3 tonight after rehearsal? Scared? I knew it.


Heheheh. This actually made me laugh. I like the 40s gangster tone, ya see? Now get outta here, kid, ya BODDER me, see?

And no, it wasn't a paid gig. When we found that out, we (tr: the member of our band coordinating with a member of their band) tried to back out, but the other band had already printed flyers, so we didn't want to leave them hanging in that respect.


So again, sorry for being lame, and thanks for the support; it wasn't an unappreciated as I allowed it to seem.

Oh yeah... Smitty told one of our guys (I heard later) that we should play there a lot more often. The gig itself--minus all my politics--went quite well. We got a great response from the largest crowd I've ever seen in that place, and apparently Smitty noticed. This might be the leverage I need. We'll see.


Journal Journal: So am I out of line? 4

Okay, I found out a couple days ago that the band has a gig tonight. It was booked by some friends of ours, with their band opening for ours. Since I worked at the shop all day--and since I didn't get off my ass last night--I didn't get to post this in time to get any feedback before the "point of know return." :(

However, I'm still very interested in the opinion of friends who are completely uninvolved with the situation. Please let me know what you think.

We are an all-original band in a town with VERY lame support for original music.

We have also spent the past several months farting around with recording gear (acquiring a system, actually coordinating our mutual presence to use it, etc.). Therefore, we haven't played out much at all in the past year and should be pleased to have this gig.

However, I'm not.

Somewhere around a year & a half ago, my Mom was parking downtown in order to make an appointment with a proprietor of a local business. As she was preparing to get out of her car, a man--known as Smitty--backed into her car. Smitty is the owner of a local bar called the Green Light Tavern. The accident was across the street from it.

When the officer asked what happened, Smitty was congenial about the whole thing, "Yeah, I backed into her; I didn't see her." He basically admitted that the accident was completely his fault.

But once the ticket appeared, Smitty changed his story and said, "naw, man, I was already parked. She hit ME." Smitty maintained this stance when the matter went to court, and despite the officer's testimony that the story changed when the prospect of a moving violation became evident, somehow he STILL avoided the rap.

When Mom tried to get his insurance to pay for the damages, they said "no problem, sure. Oh wait, there was no conviction? Sorry, we can't cover the damages without a conviction."

Once I heard the story, I told Mom I would go talk to him, but she made me promise to leave it alone. I promised, but I also told the guys in the band that I will not play at the Green Light again. We've played there quite a few times, it's nothing special, and out of principle, I refuse to help him garner any more business.

Well, now we have a gig at the Green Light. Tonight. It wasn't expressly booked by any of the guys in the band, but one of us agreed to it.

Unrelated until now: A long time ago, I won a shirt in a raffle with the Green Light logo on it. I wore it to work in the yard, etc. It's still in okay shape, but after I heard Mom's story, I wrote "Fack the" above the logo.

"Fack the Green Light"
has a nice ring to it.

I'm not the type to hold honest mistakes against people. I was nearly killed on my motorcycle in 1998, and I didn't/don't hold a grudge to the kid. He missed a stop sign. We've all done it; I just happened to be in his way. I was in the hospital six weeks and never saw the kid again, but I still know it was an accident.

My problem with the Green Light Fiasco is that he lied to get out of trouble (which incidentally never works for me), screwing Mom in the process. It's not the money either. Mom got the repair done, and they still made their mortgage. It's the principle.

Anyway, here's my question: I know it's highly unprofessional to lambast the establishment hosting your gig, but I have a serious problem with doing the gig at all. Two days ago, I was dead serious about wearing that shirt to play tonight, and if Smitty wanted to know why, fine, I'll tell him. If he wanted to get physical, fine I'll let him (I can call Johnny Cochran on him).

I've thought it through a bit more, and I've decided to wear the shirt while we rehearse, and while we load gear, then change the shirt for when we play. I'll tell the guys that I swear I will not do another gig at the Green Light without my "lucky shirt." I've arrived at this being the proper balance between "working with" my friends and letting them know I'm damn serious.

Part of me feels like that's a pretty asshole thing to do to my band mates. Yet part of me finds it pretty assholish to not consult with me about booking the gig. Did they completely ignore it? Did they forget? Either way, I'm offended.

So by the time I read any feedback, it will be too late (sorry), but I'd like to know what you think.

- zed


Journal Journal: So can even Rust be rusty? 3

Some of you know that I play the git-fiddle (blinder and my uncle are the only two I've ever seen use that term, besides me and sedawkgrep, but we got it from my uncle).

Yesterday evening, I did an "acoustic gallery," which is a euphemism for "here's this thing so you can play a few songs for 20-40 people, and then they clap like ya done real good." A few dozen of the area musicians alternate taking the spotlight an evening at a time, once a month. They're generally organized to feature two separate musicians in one night, and it was cool that I'd be playing with the guy (Brian) who was coincidentally my co-headliner last time (May 2003) I did one of these. For close to a decade, I'd play with the band nearly every weekend, but in the last three years-ish, I play every few months, and rarely anything but solo. Therefore, these monthly trysts are nearly all I have anymore to resemble a real gig (besides this coming Saturday, but that will be another JE).

During the day, I was feeling horribly unrehearsed, since I haven't taken much time to play in the past few weeks. When I agreed to the date last month, I was hoping to have a couple new pieces written by now, since I've tired of the material I feel I've overplayed. I also really wanted to have a CD finished, but alas...

Without any new stuff, I resigned to this being more of a "covers night" than I've done in eons (and probably ever in a solo setting). I made additions to my repur-toyre (that's French) by learning songs as they occurred to me, one last Sunday (the 2nd), one Sunday (the 9th), and another (*groan*) yesterday morning. This last one (BNL's "Some Fantastic") wouldn't have posed an issue at all if I had just gone over it a few times. The guitar's rhythm contrasts with the vocals just enough that it's not just a slam-dunk like many simpler tunes, but it's nothing intense; I played it twice today, and it's pretty smooth now.

Early yesterday, I became thoroughly discouraged after a spat with the GF and put down my guitar, skulking to the basement for a few hours, disturbingly aloof to the crucial rehearsal time I was ignoring. I didn't feel like playing at all, which is incredibly out of character. I probably would have canceled, save for my policy of keeping commitments unless I'm dead.

This is especially bad for me, because I generally blow off preparing for these things until a day or two before, then I get irritated when I play the jazz chords in "Butterfly," a tune I wrote a few years back to prove to myself that I'll never again play frequently enough to condition my hands against cramping. My sister loves this song and insists upon hearing it every time I play, and of course, she was there last night.

I finally snapped out of my funk ~30 minutes before showtime, changed my shirt, and let Nik drive, since her record with speeding tickets is better than mine. While I arrived at the bar quite stressed, I knew I'd be able to pull enough experience out of my ass to at least give a marginal performance, but I still hate feeling unprepared. I even ordered a beer (a rarity for me). At this point I should mention that I've played enough that I haven't gotten "stagefright" in a long time. This was more of an uneasiness in knowing I wasn't as prepared as I should be. I don't know if any non-musicians will be able to discern the difference, but I'm struggling with putting it into words. Sorry.

It was nice to see that everyone there seemed eager to be hearing me play again. Brian was one of the most gracious about this. I told him, "I was first last time, so you wanna go first this time?" I recalled feeling bad, because my family & friends had come in droves to watch me play, and half of them left when I was done. Part of it was the hour, like sedawkgrep's mom had to be at work at 4 am, and my Buddy Rich had his young daughters with him. But it still looks bad when the second guy only has six or eight people left listening. I genuinely liked his material, but when the crowd clears on you like that, it's hard telling yourself that many people have to get up early. I know; it happens every year the night before the Super Bowl. The first time REALLY bothered me.

So anyway, I asked if he wanted to go first this time, and he told me, "You're damn right I'm going first; I don't ever want to have to follow you again." He's a great guy, and when I told him he was being too kind, he informed me that he was serious; he really didn't want to play second. I think this little stroke to my ego helped more than I realized at the time. Brian's set went well, and it contained a tune I remembered from last time, the only other time I'd heard it. He and his wife have discussed children, and upon speculating the possibility of a girl (whom they plan to name "Grace Elizabeth"), we wrote a song to his yet-to-be-conceived daughter. I like all his songs, but this one is particularly good.

Playing second also gave me an opportunity to hang with my son; the usual daddy's-boy in him was magnified by his recent cold. He still bounced in fairly decent time through most of the set... The little guy's got soul and groove to accompany the antibiotics in his blood. ;)

My turn: I felt fairly comfortable, and it went much more smoothly than I had feared it would (of course, since this is probably the most ill-prepared I've been in ten years, I had chaotic visions of forgetting entire verses, flubbing chords left and right, and breaking at least one of my should-have-been-changed-yesterday strings). I spontaneously added three original songs to my set, the last of which was an encore. Deviating from my safe, planned set is rare these days. The earliest addition bypassed its history of giving me vocal troubles (how's that for impaired: writing crap you can't sing?). And speaking of flat notes, I didn't notice many, and that also helped my mindset.

So, it appears that my rust was "a bit rusty." Yippee.

Note: This is not to say that I executed a flawless performance. I made mistakes on probably every song. I botched lyrics, necessitating the "swap half of the third verse with half of the second disaster recovery program" on at least two of my own compositions (nice). I fretted chords wrong and even stopped in the middle of "Some Fantastic" for a second, having lost my groove and just knowing that I'd treat everyone to a rhythm train wreck if I tried to continue. Blech.

Yet overall, it was a decent gig, great considering my particularly callow practice-free afternoon. Most of the mistakes were small enough that only musicians would notice. Hopefully my one beer wasn't enough to make me feel this way, but Nik even told me that it went well. She has the "backstage access," so she knows when I haven't prepped enough, when I'm feeling relaxed or stressed. I can always count on her for an honest opinion.

...at least I think she's honest. We'll see when I get my copy of the CD the soundman made.

Feeling a bit better than yesterday,
- zed

Slashdot Top Deals

If this is a service economy, why is the service so bad?