Today we’re in Matlacha Fl., a beautiful little spot on the Gulf Coast of Florida, with a population of 735. Richard’s gone kayaking and Tom’s practicing his tai-chi. I’m working on developing my own language consisting of hand signals and lyrics from various songs that can convey the secrets to the universe that pertain to the colors of the rainbow. As I write this, CNN is on and Kenny Chesney is apparently going to play for the New Orleans Saints football team. I hope they make him an offensive lineman…because he’s offensive…and I like the song Wichita Lineman.
We played here yesterday, and it was great. Normally, we play at 9 or 10 at night. Occasionally, we’ll play at 7 or 8. So we got here at 1:15 pm and discovered that we were playing at 2:00 pm!!! My fault, I just didn’t look at the contract close enough, but my guys pulled it off. We loaded in, set up and were playing by 2:00! That included setting up the PA and I think Richard even got to smoke a cigarette first!
We play here again tonight and then we have a question mark for the next 2 days as we try to sort out what’s going on with the gigs in Port Charlotte. They were on, and then off and now we just don’t know. We just keep our heads down and keep steaming forward. It’s what we do. Well…we do other things to…like chess, or repairing the van or eating Chinese food.
Today we’ll be filming new installments for the YouTube channel. Richard will be beginning a series of bass lessons for beginners. It should be an entertaining yet challenging bit of film.
Listen to the album Dope Dogs by the P-Funk All Stars. Dog Star (Fly On) is a sonic orgasm. Required listening for all guitar players as well as other travelers down the aural stream of consciousness.
Morning rain snaps out the cadence that heralds the coming of the new dawn. Earth’s children await the call of “all clear” that proclaims the surface safe for the harvest once again. As the horizon glows with pregnant pause, the day to come whispers its promise into the dreams of the sleeping ones. Stars cast across the sky like a fistful of diamonds hurled from God’s own hand upon a robe of the blackest velvet, bid the night a glowing and peaceful farewell. A democracy of souls, a tribe of saints to be. Empty your cup.