00.ATX-9.13-DIRTY-DOG-SQUARE-WEB_400sq“Some people never go crazy, What truly horrible lives they must live.”~ Charles Bukowski

Let me just start off with a couple of things.

#1- The idea of giving myself a break before posting this blog post was probably not a good idea as I am beginning to forget a number of things that happened during the event and I don’t want to feel bad or let others down. So I am going to do the best that I can with what I can remember as I compose. And if that means I have to come back and edit even days later, then so be it.

#2- With scattered memories come scattered story telling so I am going to break up the evening’s activities in parts and pieces so this will take up a small number of posts. Stay tuned and keep reading!

After a week of drama of breaking my eye glasses and having to pay so much for it, and then saving my sister’s posterior and having given her money, I was on the edge because I knew that I had a choice for the evening. I could either LEAVE the venue after watching NANCY SILVA PROJECT perform and miss out on my first experience at a One-Eyed Doll show. And if I left, just how late would I stay because I would want to be able to spend time talking with Nancy Silva and hang out a bit.

The other option was to stay and watch One-Eyed Doll and then take a taxi home which would take $20 that I was not sure that I would have.

On the 12th, I was able to accomplish two things: Get a haircut and buy roses for Nancy Silva. A tradition that seems to have been lost along the years but long lost traditions will be a post for another time, if the readers want it.  I wasn’t quite sure if I should buy roses for Kimberly Freeman of One-Eyed Doll since I did not know her and she did not know me. I didn’t want to send the wrong message.

Nonetheless, I would pull an audible and buy roses for Kimberly Freeman as well… keeping in mind the old time traditions of presenting performers with flowers after their show.

Then as I returned home, I had a personal message waiting for me from Nancy Silva herself. She wanted to know if it was okay if her group would come to my home to get ready for the show and relax and hang out.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT??????????????????????????

I do not usually say this but OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG!!!

The one brilliant, musically talented, and beautiful woman that I adore coming from San Antonio to do a show. Someone I have not seen face to face in six months plus one day was asking me if she could come to my home.

I thought to myself, “Dear Lord, these are the things that only dreams are made of. And its slowly showing signs of becoming true!”

After a few hours of bantering back and forth I agreed to the arrangement. And as I was doing so… I was scrambling to get everything in my home straightened up and clean and everything at least in the condition to be acceptable for having company over.

My apartment manager defines a clean apartment (for me at least) as “If you would be embarrassed to bring a girl back to your home… then you need to clean it.” And at this point, there was this great possibility of a girl coming over. So I made sure that the apartment was up to those standards. Then I sat back and waited. Noticing that the request to obtain my address had not been given. The longer it went on, the more I thought that this would not happen or that something was going to defeat me.

So on the 13th the day of the show as I was watching my favorite college football team beat the crap out of their opponent, I received word that it was not going to happen. And this was the official decision. It had been raining too and that was  getting annoying. Would I be going out in the rain again?

As deflated as I became I knew that in a few hours I would be there at the Dirty Dog Bar and that I would see NANCY SILVA PROJECT play.

There was just a few details that life hadn’t given to me in the memo.

Doors were supposed to open at 7:00 PM. They were not.
There was a LINE to get indoors. What the hell is up with that?
Staff who normally are warm and friendly were nothing but hulking statues of not giving a rat’s ass.

Everyone in line ahead of me and everyone in line behind me had some kind of memorabilia for One-Eyed Doll. I was the only person there with a NANCY SILVA PROJECT. Damnit, I am gonna wave this flag!!!

And some how when I got inside, there was already so many people inside. Why are THEY inside and I am not? I figured it was a lost cause and dropped it.

One-Eyed Doll Nation was everywhere. This place was totally packed and there were scores of people already lined up along the edges of the stage from the front and wrapped around to the one side.

But I would find Rai de la Cruz, the guitarist for NANCY SILVA PROJECT. I had never in my life conversed with him before and now it was like we had been friends forever and had connected again.

His continuous plaguing me of John Malkovich stood throughout the entire night. But I never fought it and that probably threw him off.

He’s now threatening to make an unannounced visit to my home… now that the band has my address. And again, I responded with “BRING IT ON.” If it was a fear tactic to pick on me, it wasn’t working. I would LOVE to have NANCY SILVA PROJECT in my home. Of course I’d have to take a photograph or two to have proof of it actually happened. But I got along with Rai pretty well. And Raj Arenas, the drummer. These two guys clearly remember me from SXSW Festival six months prior.

And then at long last, I saw Nancy Silva but she moved into the restroom and I lost her there.

And as I was digging out the roses to give to her she sprung out of the restroom and spotted me there. She hugged me, I gave her a kiss on the cheek and then gave her the roses.

There was this really bizarre color on one of the bouquets of roses that I couldn’t pass up, so I gave Nancy Silva BOTH.

Then a well known local photographer took our photograph together. Then I let her go, knowing that she was busy with preparations of her set on stage coming soon. Six months plus one day I had waited and the patience was paying off in spades.

So then I learned something about these events:

Rule #1 & 2 in attending a One-Eyed Doll show: If you are there for them or even some other band that is playing the same venue, get there early and grab your spot and DO NOT MOVE THE REST OF THE NIGHT.

Geez. I had to fight to get a place near the stage where I would be able to see. And still to that point I had not made up my mind as to how long I was staying.

Some gentleman saw me and then sacrificed his standing position that was right up against the edge of the stage and said that even if I was in front of him, that he could still see because I was so low.

I had thanked him and found myself next to a cute redhead who was even shorter than I was sitting down in a wheelchair with X’s on her hands.  Wow. Just when you think that they cannot make women any smaller you get proven wrong.

But I sat there and waited for NANCY SILVA PROJECT to set up.

I saw someone who I had just made friends with that was there who also is in a wheelchair. He and I together were calling ourselves “ROLLING THUNDER.”

So this conversation happened in the crowd between my newest colleague, the guy who gave me his spot, and myself about whether or not I was going to the VIP after show party.

Umm no. I could not afford that.

Then the guy who sacrificed his spot became my personal hero for the day. He had bought two and he just gave me the other one and didn’t ask me for anything for it. I couldn’t believe it.

Then my newest colleague promised to give me a ride to the party and then drop me off at home.

Honestly, could this have become any better???

0.9732945955_n

Nancy Silva Project- Photo by Maurice Eagle

The VIP passes were $100 a piece. $150 for two. Before I could turn into a thankful blubbering mess the set started and NANCY SILVA PROJECT was rocking it from right out of the gate!!

The One-Eyed Doll crowd was blown away.

I started keeping track of the set by writing down the song titles on my hand with a permanent marker, knowing that this blog post was going to happen but because I waited, its nothing but a blurry mess that looks like a tattoo on my hand from far away.

They had nine songs on the set list but had to cut it short. Two songs were clipped. And when I heard the sound guy say “one more” I began to panic because my favorite NANCY SILVA PROJECT had not been performed.

What if they didn’t perform it? Would I feel cheated? Would I be angry? What the hell?

But all of that would not be necessary as they finished their set with “Lift Me Up” … my favorite song that has taken me through quite the huge emotional roller coaster ride over the past half year from tears to goosebumps to feelings of love and pride to support. And everything in between. No other musical performer has been able to do that to me or has had that much or that kind of impact on me. And so I love Nancy Silva and NANCY SILVA PROJECT so much because of it.

And then I made the costliest mistake of the night. When NSP was off of the stage, I moved away from my spot by the stage. It was time for me to hang out. Although it didn’t really work out as well as I had wanted.

There was two bands in between NSP and One-Eyed Doll and honestly, I could have cared less. I mean, the opening band “Force Of Rage” sounded okay but of course in my singleness my mind was focused more on the two female led bands ahead. I cannot even tell you the two names of the bands without looking it up.

Those wrist bands that bars give up, I finally found a way to not hate and loathe them as much any more. I presented Nancy Silva with a number of odd items and handed her my permanent marker, asking for her to sign it.

First was my bus pass. And since I had a return ride home, and I was not going anywhere the following day, it was useless for travel. So I had her sign it as a piece of memorabilia to remember that I had to take the bus and ride it for nearly an hour before I got to the venue.

Then I stuck my hand out wanting her to sign the wrist band. I turned my head and she started writing on my hand. I had to clear up the confusion. She signed the wrist band and then I told her that since she already started writing her name on my hand to finish it. Otherwise it would look odd with “NA” on my hand the rest of the night. Comical errors are very comical.

After a while, Nancy Silva discovered that the band’s equipment was going on unprotected. Nobody was around to kind of keep an eye on it and this look of frustration crawled across her face. I volunteered to watch it with no argument and then just kinda sat around near the stage area where bands stash their stuff. I wondered if that was a mistake because I felt tethered to it all. But in the end, it was fine.

I was so happy. The world could have blown up that night and I would have gone out happy and feeling like the king of kings.

I take Rai’s words seriously. I think that if he could get away with driving up from San Antonio to crash my place, that he would do it. Nancy Silva seems to be supportive of the idea. The band suffered 20/20 hindsight wishing that they all would have come by. And all I could do was shrug.

I told Rai that I did NOT want to wait six months to see them again. Six months from now will bring us back around to SXSW 2015. Rai claims that they will stop at my place for SXSW, and they’ll do it over and over and over again as long as they are in town and in the area.  BRING IT ON, RAI!!!! LET’S DO IT!!!!!!

Now I wait and pray to see them all sooner than six months.

The next blog post: One-Eyed Doll’s performance at the Dirty Dog Bar. And then the VIP party. 

13_1300736260

“The truth is you don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed.”~ Eminem

Just about that time when you are about to put everything on cruise control for a few days… that stupid llama finds you in the bedroom window, staring at you while you sleep. And its wanting inside the house.

And then by no fault of anyone, it finds its way inside. Suddenly your everything slowly turns into a nightmare from which you just wished that you would awake.

That’s when you realize that any and all attempts to play the hero and be Superman are going to just fall apart in the process. So you let nature run its course and hold on tight, hoping that it ends soon and the rays of sunshine appear once more sooner than later.

HELP!!!

That’s the way things have been recently, but they seemed to have turned around.

Saturday, the 13th…. NANCY SILVA PROJECT is coming to town and will be playing a show at Dirty Dog Bar. They are playing a show that is a homecoming event for a band called ONE-EYED DOLL who has been touring these last few weeks. The 13th will be the last day of the tour for ONE-EYED DOLL and NANCY SILVA PROJECT is on the bill to help support.

I don’t think that I have to tell you how important this show is for me. I think that throughout previous blog posts where I have talked about Nancy Silva, one can get a sense of where I am coming from with what I am thinking and feeling.

In other words: It doesn’t take a nuclear physicist to figure it out.

Six exact months I have waited for this opportunity. 185 days to today, and then add one more day because I will not see anyone until the 13th… so 186. More than 4,440 hours of waiting will pay off.

As of nearly a week ago though, the drama llama came for a visit and hasn’t left yet.

My sister hit me up to borrow money, which was basically ALL of my spending money for the evening of the show. Now there will be no merchandise bought if there is anything that I want.  No drinks. NOTHING.

Then I busted my only pair of eye glasses on Sunday afternoon. Went into a panic because of the fact that I my vision is horrible and only am near sighted. So unless these bands plan to play while sitting on my lap, this is going to be a disaster if I cannot see.

I had a temporary fix which involved tiny amounts of Super Glue and LARGE amounts of Scotch tape, rigging the frames together to make for one-sided foggy experiences.

I went to the vision center inside Wal-Mart as was suggested. They weren’t any help at all. They didn’t want to talk to me, they didn’t want to help me, they didn’t even want to refer me to a place where I could get a pair of broken glasses fixed. These people were terrible. Then I went go look for GODZILLA on DVD, but Wal-Mart didn’t have it. I was one week too early for them to have it in stock. So ridiculous! Nothing was going right.

Finally, all signs pointed to a frame fixer who claimed that to fix the glasses would be anywhere from $5 all the way up to $60. I was charged $40. Another forty bucks out of my pocket.

But at least I got the glasses fixed, and still taking away from any hope or chance of using that money to do a little self-shopping for band merchandise. I sure would love to add to my collection of NSP t-shirts or other pieces of memorabilia if there is anything to be had.

silva12536

Am I going to have any money for this show at all?? Will I even have money to get a taxi ride home?

Will I have to skip out on seeing ONE-EYED DOLL for the first time in order to catch a bus home???? The possibilities are endless that its excruciating.

The only thing that I can say at this point is that I am stressed out. I’ve been counting this date for over three months. I remember when I told Nancy Silva that the show was ten weeks (70 days) away. Both of us kind of got a little excited.

Now its just a little more than 24 hours away. The only thing that is certain is that I got my eye glasses fixed. And that I will go to the show. The rest remains a damned mystery.

First world problems and the struggle becomes real. Hooray for me.

Princess-Of-Wales-princess-diana-32114836-220-254“I think that celebrities should never underestimate their power. I mean just to draw attention, because then people get involved on a personal level.”~Debbie Gibson

Birthdays, anniversaries, days of “firsts”, graduations, sometimes divorces, and dates of death of loved ones are always and forever etched into our subconscious some how.

These things never seem to leave us and we stand up and shout that we will never forget. Mainly because our brains never do allow us to as our memories are triggered by someone or something that would always bring us back to these specific and personal days in our lives.

The 31st of August is one of those dates for me. Both good and bad. Both happy and sad.

Deborah “Debbie” Gibson was born on the 31st of August in 1970, she became the pop music princess of the world and she paved the path for so many others such as Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and even Demi Levato and Ariana Grande today.

With my fascination at the time of trying to find a way to get into the Guiness Book of World Records, Debbie Gibson Debbie-Gibson-Foolish-Beatentered it with her number one hit “Foolish Beat” … she was the youngest person to write, produce and perform a song.

Ironically, I would hear that song for the first time and something was going on in my own personal life with a girl I had a crush on at the time, that was devastating to me. And that’s the first song I remember hearing.

The news was that she had a #1 hit with the song, and she was put into the Guiness Book of World Records.

And that would start an amazing collection of “cassette singles” that I would have for many, many years. “Foolish Beat” being the first one I ever bought for one dollar and some change at the local Wal-Mart.

If only music (actually physical copies of CDs) were that cheap still. Screw iTunes!!! At least until there are no more compact disc players and mine die out.

Today, Deborah (as she is now known) turned 44 years old. Wow.

Twenty-seven years after the birth of Gibson came another event on that day. It would turn out to be a tragic event. The announcement of the death of Princess Diana in 1997.

I woke up that day and turned on my tiny black and white television that had been loaned to me for a while only to find that television had been interrupted. There was an airplane standing there. Then a car. Then a hearse.

I wondered which “celebrity death” had happened and who was famous enough in the time and space to interrupt television programming but I couldn’t think of anyone.

But it was England’s finest princess. And she was dead. Rumors were constantly circulating around. But one thing was for sure. She had been involved in a automobile crash that took her life and the life of her current lover. princess-diana-accident-photos

For the rest of the day and night television was focused on NOTHING but this news that Princess Diana was dead.

Princess Diana to me was someone who was like an angel.

All of her charity and humanitarian work that she did and her goals to get rid of violence in other nations and taking care of one another was so appealing.

I remember as a child shortly after she did marry Prince Charles, of her going through the airport at the same time my family was sending off my grandmother after another long summer visit with her.

I remember punching and pushing my way to get to the front of the crowd to see her walking through the terminal and waving and once in a while touching hands.

She saw me standing there and I was waving and saluting. Princess Diana walked by and turned her head and saw me. She then stopped in her own tracks and came back to me and touched my cheek and the top of my forehead and called me a “lovely child.”

These are the memories that cannot be taken away from me. And every late August I sort of mourn because of her loss, which is almost twenty years ago. Amazing what time does to you.

chair

Let’s do this!!!!

So I received a brand new wheelchair today, which was free of charge to me.

Someone generous went out of their way and had purchased a wheelchair for their wife when she was in the hospital and going through a period of recovery and therapy.

Very sadly though, his wife developed a blood clot in her leg and she did pass away very quickly after the discovery of the clot.

Today however, he gave me this new wheelchair.

Now I don’t have to worry about falling or having struggles trying to move forward or having it turn when I am trying to go in a straight direction.

But as with all wheelchairs in the past 20+ years… I name them. I mean after all, men name their cars, I name my wheelchairs.

However the past two wheelchairs have been named “Dark Knight” & “Dark Knight II” so if I was to name this wheelchair “Dark Knight” it would be III. It already was given as a suggestion on my personal Facebook page. As well as “Rawkin’ Roller” and “Panty Remover.”

But I decided to bring this idea to the blog.

What would be on the minds of my readers???? What would YOU name this wheelchair????? And I think that I will even go as far as to say that I will make this a contest.

So its pretty simple. Name the wheelchair. Leave your suggestions in the comment section. I will pick the BEST named suggestion before I leave for the NSP show on Saturday, the 13th of September.

RULES: 

  • If you have already given a named suggestion on Facebook and are reading this, then comment your suggestion. Only suggestions listed in the comment section of this blog post will be considered. NOT what was on Facebook. So the person who named it “Panty Remover” will have to leave that suggestion as a comment to this blog post in order to win.
  • Also tell me WHY you think I should name the wheelchair along with your suggestion.
  • Leave as many suggestions as you wish.  The more you enter, the better your chances.
  • You do NOT have to be subscribed to enter/win. But if you wanna take your chances at future contests, and be entertained… then subscribing would be a good idea. Its just not mandatory for this contest. At the very most, you’ll need to leave an e-mail address, which will NOT be shown publicly!! 

Pretty easy!!! Deadline is the 12th of September 2014 at 01:59 AM Eastern Time.  The winner will be notified by e-mail upon my return home of the NANCY SILVA PROJECT show which will probably be really early on September the 14th at the very earliest.

Prizes will vary. Meaning if I know you personally, then I’ll select something that I can hand to you personally. If you’re not someone that I know personally or are not living in this area, then I will have something that can be sent to you via e-mail, like a gift card or something.

Everything is subject to change. But until then. Have fun loading up the comment section of this blog post. And of course: GOOD LUCK!!!!

STAIRS-WHEELCHAIR-570“It’s a great mistake, I think, to put children off with falsehoods and nonsense, when their growing powers of observation and discrimination excite in them a desire to know about things.”~ Anne Sullivan

Tonight will be a night that I will not be able to laugh about for a very, very long time.

Maybe I will one day. But certainly its too fresh on my mind right now for it to be funny.

Being placed as a victim of discrimination in the purest form is beyond ridiculousness in 2014. But it still happens. And it happened to me this evening.

I was thrilled.  I was excited. And I was making a last minute, on-the-spot decision to go out. I borrowed some cash from my apartment manager and then I took off ten minutes later on the city bus.

I should mention that the wheelchair I now have, is BRAND NEW. And of no cost to me. And I was flying really fast!!

Fifty minutes went by and I got off the bus. I zoomed down Fifth Street realizing that I went up a block unnecessarily.

20110419_MasumiJones_0085

Masumi Jones

I actually went by the Shiner Saloon but I didn’t bother to see if the elevator was going up to their establishment. Instead I was going after the Elephant Room which is located on Congress Avenue.

Now I realized that there was going to be some accessibility issues as it IS downtown Austin and these buildings are as old as corn droplets. But still when there’s a will there’s a way.

And I had the will. Heck, I’ve had the will since I first laid eyes on the JITTERBUG VIPERS back in June of this year. Most specifically trying to become friends with their drummer, Masumi Jones.

I vowed that I would once again see her play her drums and get photographs with her and maybe if I could convince her… an autograph on a CD or t-shirt or something within their merchandise if they had any.

But as if you cannot tell by the name of the band, this is not heavy metal. This is not rock and roll. This is jazz. More specifically leaning towards the viper jazz of the great days of 1930’s.

I was so excited to see this beautiful Japanese musical genius once more. Yes, I said beautiful.

Rolling down Fifth Avenue and then turning down Congress Avenue, I realized that I was on the wrong side of the street and had to go back to the corner and cross the street.

By this time, the show had started. They were playing during happy hour… 6:00-8:00 PM, with NO cover!

It was the fact that there was no cover that actually sold me into jumping into a quick cram session of Japanese language and phrases and words before I left home.

I got to the Elephant Room and saw this mighty huge step up to the door. I grabbed the door and swung it open. Only to find there was really no landing. Either you immediately went straight up or straight down a flight of stairs once you passed through the front door.

There was a note on the door that said to go to the corner of 4th & Congress Avenue at the bank and use their intercom to gain access for those with accessibility issues.

Thankfully, they had that much awareness. At the intercom, I was given instructions to go back up to 4th Street and go around towards the back of the buildings and there I would find my way to the Elephant Room. 301-congress-avenue-suite-330-austin-tx-78701-office-for-lease

Some random guy who was having a cigarette break saw me approaching. He then attempted to operate an electric lift that was hanging in mid-air. It wasn’t to the top and it wasn’t all the way to the bottom. But he had no idea how to get it to worked.

So there I sat, 6:15 PM and late while this guy went back indoors to find someone who could operate the lift that APPARENTLY had been installed just today!!! Nobody knows how to work it. Nobody has been apparently told how.

Then it starts to rain a little bit. Now I am late and getting soaked. And all I needed was six steps to get to the landing to go indoors to find an elevator inside that would take me to the basement where the band was playing.

Out pops some other guy talking and giving me instructions that didn’t make sense to me. Something about being led inside by security guards.

What the hell???

I realized that the intercom that I had just used was belonging to a bank. And its after hours and everything is locked up and two security guards are sitting in chairs at a long table, viewing a series of monitors.

One guy leads me inside. He then passes me off to a security guard who then leads me down a weird passage of twists and turns. And finally he just starts unlocking doors one by one. Until we got to one door with a small window slot. The guy who was just outside was on the other side of it. But NEITHER ONE OF THEM could open that one fucking door!

Meanwhile, I am hearing drums being played and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was Masumi Jones. And I could just tell how close I was to getting where I wanted to go. But one lousy door that NOBODY had a key to was locked. Apparently it led to this stupid bank and the bank employees wanted nobody to have entry to it. So nobody had a key.

Everyone just gave up. 6:30 PM and I’ve missed plenty and now nobody wants to try and come up with a PLAN B.

The guy that took me inside to the security guard was quite beefy and muscular. He could have pulled me up those five or six stairs on his own and then found me a path to an elevator. But he vanished without a trace and without a word.

Liability? I could've knocked him out for such stupidity.

Liability? I could’ve knocked him out for such stupidity.

The security guard wouldn’t have been able to do it. I didn’t see ANY kind of measurable upper body strength within him. And he just gave up too since he didn’t have a key to that final door that was in our way. He stood there, looking down upon me and apologizing half-heartedly over and over again.

I grumbled so much. SOMEONE could lift me up those few steps and get me inside. And that’s when I lost all of my cool. As I write this, I still haven’t gained all of my composure back. I heard this jackass whisper under his breath, “Nobody wants to try to because its a liability.”

Liability? Do you know what a liability is? Its an excuse. Seriously think about this. Its an excuse for people who are lame and weak and lazy so that they don’t have to do anything.

The old guy, okay I get that. But the original guy sent out to figure out the problem…. easily could have lifted the back of the brand new wheelchair and hoisted me up without a problem. And of course going down is always much easier than going up. I was only going to be there for a couple of hours any ways. I would have in and out and gone before the sun went down.

But no…. everyone who works on Congress Avenue are a bunch of fucking cowards with no intelligence to figure out mystery puzzles before them. They could have made it into a unique and fun project and felt ten thousand times better about themselves for figuring it out. But they didn’t get that either!!!!!

I don’t wanna hear this crap about liability. I’m not going to listen to that. If you are on the verge of a quick injury then you already KNOW what to do and what not to do, just hand over the job to someone who can do it… don’t fucking balls out and hide behind the excuse of lifting someone upwards in a wheelchair is a liability.

So no music. No beauty. No Masumi Jones. No Sarah Sharp. No jazz. No “Stuff It.” No drinks. No Happy Hour. NOTHING. Just $2 spent riding the bus back and forth, losing 140 minutes in the entire ordeal from the time I left my home to the time I got back.

My excitement was destroyed and I have no idea when I am going to be able to see either Masumi Jones or the JITTERBUG VIPERS play live again. I know one thing for sure, it won’t be at the Elephant Room or any other venue with the same situation. I need them to find a venue that is on the ground floor. Not in a basement. And not in a second story.

As I strolled down Fourth Street with fury on my mind, I found myself being asked to give a homosexual a high five.

He was serious. He wanted a high five. So I raised my hand up to him and he slapped it. He then giggled like a little girl and started to jog in place at full speed. It was a little different scene. I realized I was in a the gay district and really needed to keep moving if I didn’t want to be bothered.

By the time I got to the bus stop for the return trip. Someone was up on a balcony that I rolled under.. and he spat on me for some reason. I never spoke to him or anything, just all of a sudden he spit on me. I kept moving until I got on board the bus coming back home.

Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes as I returned home, listening to “Promise Me” by NANCY SILVA PROJECT. So burned by this entire discriminating experience. Going in with joy and excitement. Only to come out of it bitter and angry.

I get that these damn buildings… every last one of them were probably built in 1644 B.C. but there’s no excuse. None whatsoever. I realize that they have been standing since BEFORE ADA became into law, but you still have to be able to cater to the possibility that your business may be visited by patrons with physical disabilities.

These guys started out strong, but when their plan didn’t work… they fled like a bunch of scared squirrels.

Pathetic.

I hate you, Congress Avenue.

nsp5

“Let us celebrate the occasion with wine and sweet words.”~Plautus

As the evening comes to a close and midnight is approaching here, I felt the desire and the idea to express my absolute best wishes to Nancy Silva of NANCY SILVA PROJECT on her birthday today… the 24th of August.

From the moment that we met at SXSW Music Festival and throughout these past weeks… all the way to the countdown of less than one month before she comes back to town to perform again, I’ve got a special place in my heart for her and her friendship.

Life is far different now with her, but I don’t recall much what life was like BEFORE her. And I guess that shouldn’t be the point.

I just am very thankful for the very personal friendship that I have with her and glad to see that with every day it grows and grows and grows and grows.

For a very busy musician, I have been very lucky to get behind the scenes and discuss with her everything else under the sun. Not too many musicians do that. As challenging as it may or may not have been, I hold it all within!

Nancy… you are a wonderfully talented person, and a terrific addition in my life. Thank you for your love and friendship. I hope you’ve had an awesome birthday! And may you be blessed with many more! I’ll see you soon when you come to town to play again.

Still counting the days!!!

sugar-dispenser

“I love to eat – Kit Kats or cookies-and-cream ice cream. I need sugar like five times a day.”~ Kim Kardashian

First off, Happy Birthday to that ultra special someone!!

One simply does not just talk to me in the morning. It does not happen. Nor will it ever happen. There are people here that have learned that the hard way. There are still others who don’t get it or don’t want to. So when the silent treatment is given, its not to punish, its to protect.

I just fly off the handle too quickly if I am not 100% awake yet.

Enter: Coffee consumption.

This morning though was a tragic error which actually has some comedy to it. So I am writing about it for YOUR ENTERTAINMENT this morning while its still fresh on my mind. As well as in my system.

Let me explain.

I rolled on in, as I do most Monday through Friday mornings and grabbed a coffee cup and poured myself a cup. As I began to add creamer and sugar, I realized that nothing was coming out of the sugar dispenser. Meanwhile saying nothing to anyone and ignoring anyone who was trying to talk to me.

I grabbed the sugar dispenser. I shook it. Nothing came out. I rattled it harder, still nothing came out.

I pounded on the bottom. Nothing!!

So I unscrewed the lid — see where this is going??

I gently gave it a shake and noticed that it seemed like a massive GLOB of sugar that was practically a solid. I carefully tipped it over the top of my coffee cup and gave it a shake.

Measuring solely by the absence of sugar from inside the dispenser, a mass of sugar about four inches from the dispenser fell out of its container and into my coffee cup. It didn’t make a splash or a mess. All of it vanished within the molecular composition of the caffeinated liquid.

I was in trouble.

I grabbed for a spoon to stir it all in. I wasn’t going to waste the coffee. Not with these people watching. If they would see me throwing out the over-sugared coffee they would have had something to say about it…………. for the rest of the day!!

I said nothing and acted like nothing happened. But the spoon that I was stirring wasn’t doing anything. Apparently all of that sugar was already dissolved inside of the coffee.

I guess I won’t need to get the donuts today. The coffee had enough sugar for a month’s worth of Friday morning donuts.

So I feel sorry for anyone that makes contact with me for the next several hours. As well as do I apologize.

This (for others) will probably be a Friday that most will never forget.

I’m not looking forward to the “CRASH” to come later…………….

God Save Us All!!!