This is all I wanted from my computer software and it is still not reliable or even making sense to me. What the hell is an audio interface? Bob Wills never had this to deal with.*
Friday, October 25, 2013
Don't Be Ashamed Of Your Age
This is all I wanted from my computer software and it is still not reliable or even making sense to me. What the hell is an audio interface? Bob Wills never had this to deal with.*
Call Me Baptist
I walked into a little Mexican market where I buy my brisket with pickle taco and the place has been renovated in light of the economic boom. Gone are the candles of La Virgen De Guadalupe replaced by grotesque Bud Light models with fake tits.
The woman behind the counter said, "I thought I recognized you..."
I figured she was going to say I looked like Val Kilmer or Cris Angel.
"You play piano at the old age home."
"Yes, ma'am."
"My aunt loves that song you play..."
"Cuatro Milpas...?"
"No...."
"Alla en el Rancho Grande?"
No....It's 'Oh, Suzanna'. She always claps."
'Oh Suzanna' repeats endlessly and monotonously but I play it pretty good with full chordal harmonization of the chorus like I'm Liberace or something. They are a forgiving audience at the rest home.
"Right. From my cowboy songbook. Ma'am, I have a question."
"Si?"
"What is it with this new case of glass bongs."
"New owners."
She nods toward a man I hadn't seen before, stocking cigarette lighters. I shrug at him and for some reason have already lost my temper because in Texas ordinarily one must always say, "Sir..." when engaging a man in conversation. But I had always liked walking into this building with fire code violations, signs in Spanish, no pornography, broken glass in the parking lot, beer on ice, an old woman who spoke Spanish no matter what you looked like. She charged too much for tacos but they were good and hand made so no one said anything. Now there is some kind of Generic Fried Chicken being built in a corner. The step that would almost break your neck has been fixed. I don't like it...but I really hate and am offended by an entire closed case full of glass pipes and bongs...like we live in Seattle. I repeat: I'm annoyed and offended by the whole new management and this "new owner" is not Mexican. He looks like a guy who would never eat the fried chicken being served at his new store.
The woman behind the counter said, "I thought I recognized you..."
I figured she was going to say I looked like Val Kilmer or Cris Angel.
"You play piano at the old age home."
"Yes, ma'am."
"My aunt loves that song you play..."
"Cuatro Milpas...?"
"No...."
"Alla en el Rancho Grande?"
No....It's 'Oh, Suzanna'. She always claps."
'Oh Suzanna' repeats endlessly and monotonously but I play it pretty good with full chordal harmonization of the chorus like I'm Liberace or something. They are a forgiving audience at the rest home.
"Right. From my cowboy songbook. Ma'am, I have a question."
"Si?"
"What is it with this new case of glass bongs."
"New owners."
She nods toward a man I hadn't seen before, stocking cigarette lighters. I shrug at him and for some reason have already lost my temper because in Texas ordinarily one must always say, "Sir..." when engaging a man in conversation. But I had always liked walking into this building with fire code violations, signs in Spanish, no pornography, broken glass in the parking lot, beer on ice, an old woman who spoke Spanish no matter what you looked like. She charged too much for tacos but they were good and hand made so no one said anything. Now there is some kind of Generic Fried Chicken being built in a corner. The step that would almost break your neck has been fixed. I don't like it...but I really hate and am offended by an entire closed case full of glass pipes and bongs...like we live in Seattle. I repeat: I'm annoyed and offended by the whole new management and this "new owner" is not Mexican. He looks like a guy who would never eat the fried chicken being served at his new store.
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