Good Morning, or is it Goodnight?
2:45am - Well I missed another Wed jam night, night, last night. There are at least 2 held in my neighborhood every Wednesday night and I really would like to go to at least one, but I can never seem to make it. All my years - I never missed a gig - If I could do that, then why can’t I make it to one jam night - right down the street - in a really cool spot? --- I DO know why --- It’s because mr. sandman and mr. parkinsons work for the same corporation. Different divisions mind you, but the same corporation. They even have the same job title and pay grade. They are both "pain in the butt instigator divisional supervisors", or BS34s.
Come 8:00 it’s all I can so to make it to bed, much less go out. I’ve tried to distract mr. p with trails of Sinemet leading off in the wrong direction --- he always finds his way back. I’ve called mr. s’s secretary several times to schedule his nightly appointment for later, but I keep getting the machine. What can I do? How to you force these very powerful men to do their jobs differently? How can I be sure to take a long - reset my clock - afternoon nap?
Only one answer comes to mind ... Drugs!!! yes Drugs with a capital D and that stands for gee I’m sleepy. I’m talking alcohol, more specifically ... wine. If I want to take a nap between 12 and 5 this would mean I would have to start drinking around 11am - Très français. Très bon.
But, I don’t want to be the sad, poor guy drinking alone before noon - the failed writer or actor who drinks to numb his pain. No I want to be the happy artiste! who drinks with the rising sun to enjoy life! To be able to take a long nap in the afternoon and awake to go out into the world! to go forth into the clubs and bistros and JAM! To play his bass. To see his friends. To enjoy life! To have another glass of wine. To take a cab home to go back to sleep.
I think I’ll start today, i’m sure we have a half bottle of wine around here somewhere. I only need one glass and I’m out like a light, well maybe two... it’s OK . Wine’s cheap. This might work. This might work, especially if I am able to present the proper image.
But there’s no Jam night tonight that I know of. Maybe I’ll go to Texas...probably a bad idea, there has to be something locally on a Thursday night. Somewhere in this town of almost a million people, there has to be a Jam night.
Of course it would be cool to go to Texas right now. Hang out in Austin - go down to Terlnigua - disappear for while - that’s what one does in Terlingua, disappear like a desert fog. Nice thought. Not a good idea right now though, something to do with this needing money thing.
BACK TO THE IMAGE
NOW his guy has an image I could live with. Sure, for all I know there could be a meth lab over that hill but I don’t see it - and I certainly can’t smell it. He could be in miserable shape, but I can’t tell...I only see him from the back. That’s me sitting there around 11:30, By noon I’m out like a light, Don’t worry I’ll make it up to my bedroom.
Here we go with that ironic word again...irony. It’s ironic that back when I was working one of the things I disliked the most was jam nights. I usually had a gig anyway, but when I did have a Wed night off I rarely wanted to go out and play in a bar. Now, it’s all I can think about. This might work, but only if I can keep mr.s and mr.p from sitting at my table and drinking with me. They’re such sloppy drunks, and they always get drunk, and I end up with the hangover.
NOTICE: This has been a piece of fictional parody. I , in no way encouarge the use of alcohol by anyone but me. SEE YOUR DOCTOR BEFORE YOU SELF MEDICATE. You can find a nice inexpensive bottle of wine with a screw on cap, that way you don’t have to drink the whole bottle. They have a nice selection over at Mister Lee’s - Stockton St. on the right two blocks from the river. I am sober right now, unless you want to count coffee. Kids, stay in school.
I think I have written about this before - can’t remember - that’s why i pulled most of the archives. No one will ever know - the archives are sill up somewhere, but I ain’t telling - you have to wait for the book.
just say yes!
meet Andy Ward King, a professional musician and artist until a diagnosis of parkinons dsease at age 49 forced him into an early retirement., he now uses his music, his art along with the whimsical world he has created in this blog as therapy to ( as he puts it ) outsmart his brain and make the daily battles with parkinson’s a little bit easier, to give him that all important reason to get up on the morning, to make his life worth living. Andy has learned how to say NO to gving up \ NO to depression and apathy \ NO to following willingly the road of decline that stretches before him. he learned that to say no to all of these things all one has to do is say yes. Andy has learned to just say YES to life/\\