Data Retrieved

Pulled Like Taffy
So, three days after losing my 1 gigabyte data traveller thing, and having thought that I had tossed it away into the trash can of the Panda Express, along with the bag that a turkey sandwich (without mayonnaise) came in, a guy walks up to me at the Dauphin Store, asks me if I'm "Daniel McKenna," and upon my answering in the affirmative; hands me my green wallet type thing with my cards and my data traveller thing still in it.
He had identified me by looking at my jail ID, which I carry around as a souvenir from that institution, gotten after I trespassed upon the Riverfront, or Riverview, or Riverside Hotel property.
The picture is stretched verticly as if I am made of taffy and was pulled, and it amazed me that the guy, who I will call "Colorado," recognized me from it.
But he did, and I got back all my lyrics, some pictures and a lot of writings. He found it on Dauphin Street, not in the Panda Express' trash.
I gave him a dollar. It was on one of those nights when I made only about 10 bucks, but, He had 0 dollars, on that night.
He is from Colorado Springs, or Golden Springs, Golden, or somewhere in Colorado. He made it sound like a guy on the street with a guitar could do mighty well in somewhere in Colorado, from the way he talked. Lots of people with money, or something like that...
Laundry First; Then Serda's

Was There

Last night at Serda's was a glorious event, with a new guy, who plays saxophone, playing that instrument, accompanied by Jimmy Lee, at one point, and the guy who plays very fast and taps notes and harmonics, at another point. The sax guy eventually hit his groove, or the guy accompanying him hit his groove, and, there was some righteous gigging.
Then a comedian performed, for about as long as it took me to smoke a cigarette. I missed his entire act doing just that, going back inside in time to hear him say "Thank you," to the people.
Becca was there. She got there early enough to be destined to have a couple of hours of before I would go on, due to the organization of the sign up list. I think I got bumped in favor of the new guy with the sax, but that is understandable, in light of the fact that it just seems natural to let a new guy go on right away, I guess.
I snuck around to the side of the building where I had stashed a $1.20 beer, so that I didn't have to buy too many @$2.50 inside. I feel slightly guilty when I do that, like I'm not supporting the venue which is allowing me to get my music "out there," to "the people." I rationalize that I am helping to support them if people enjoy my music. Upon my return to the venue, it was just time for me to go on.
9/16th-Assed Music
I borrowed a pick from Jimmy Lee.

Was Brewing Coffee

Joelle (Miss Underhill) was behind the bar. I couldn't see Becca in the spot where she had been sitting. I figured that I might have missed her. It turns out that she was "in the back," and could hardly hear me, but she was there. I probably would have put a little more into my performance if I thought that she was still there, but, I went up and gave it my "all," which usually amounts to about 89% of me. I put all my water content into it, if you will.
I like to think that, through playing and practicing and honing my skills on the street, I have improved from doing half-assed music, to doing nine sixteenthed-assed music.
I don't know why, in thinking back, that I didn't go sit and talk with Becca some. I could have squeezed it in, between runs to the back of the building for $1.20 beer, smoking out front, etc.
I guess I have the excuse that I was nervous before performing and distracted by trying to come up with a novel idea for a song.
Laundry Done
I was going to improvise one about the laundromat guy, who wouldn't let me go into the restroom to change into my newly cleaned clothes, after I had spent about 6 bucks in his establishment newly cleaning them. Words were exchanged, and I made it clear to him that I would NEVER again patronize his business in the "hood," and use his raggedy-assed, half broken, dirty washers.
I ran into him later and he apologized. He said that if people saw me doing it, they would all want to do it. He was probably worried about me taking a bath in the restroom before changing into my newly cleaned clothes, and leaving hair in the sink. The raggedy assed sink.
I almost tried to do The Laundry Blues, or something, but wound up sticking to previously done stuff, adhering to my new axiom about one time a week being short of the saturation point of people's song hearing capacity. They didn't hear the song every one of the past 7 nights, sometimes two or three times, and aren't as prone to be as tired of it as you, the performer. That's the axiom.
There were some pretty good moments. The low point was when, in the middle of Hubert's Trip, I ran out of gas, in a sense, before I even got him to Las Vegas, which I think is one of the best parts of the song. It can be a 12 minute song, and I was 5 minutes into it, and had only gotten Hubert to the West Coast.
The Man Who Couldn't Decide What Flavor He Wanted is getting easier to play, now that I have dropped the key one step to B, and, easier to play means easier to come up extra lyrics "on the fly" to add and hopefully make the song longer, stronger, faster and better each time its played.
The Carcass Song is still being somewhat of a struggle, as I haven't settled upon the riff which is to be the recurring motif, played under the main verse. Obviously, it has to be one that I can sing and play at the same time, but, to me that means embellishing it to the point where I couldn't sing it and play it at the same time if I tried to embellish it more. That's when it takes a level of concentration where you have to be in "the zone," to negotiate. In my opinion.
Musically, I was happy to see that, when I made the effort, people seemed to be actually paying attention. I was given a sample of ice cream, after doing The Man Who Couldn't Decide What Flavor He Wanted, which is about ice cream.
After I was done, Joelle said "Good job," as she walked past.

The new guy with the sax seemed to have his jury out on me. I think he was sitting there thinking "What kind of saxophone line would I play over this??" during some of my less saxophone friendly stuff, oh, like The Carcass Song...
Then Becca emerged from the parlor, where she had been stationed while I played. She gave me a hug (an excellent Christian one) and told me how she had been in the back and couldn't hear me that well. I would have done more songs with screaming and shouting in them, had I been aware of Becca's plight. Hopefully she wasn't offended that I didn't go back there and talk to her. I could have, I mean, I had on newly cleaned clothes...