Jeebus, Not Again

The last three months or so have been quiet, and nearly enjoyable, in the wake of ousting a pair of band members who were at the hub of an inordinate amount of drama and b.s. Their respective replacements were more talented and, most importantly, more psychologically stable - or at least as stable as one can be in this line of work.

Sadly, this was not to last, and in the last few weeks a whole new season of soap opera has manifested. At the root of it all, in addition to the usual stubbornness and overreaction of most parties involved, is our 16-year-old sound guy, who has been in contact with one of the ex-members. Now, I understand that this isn't entirely intentional; he is a kid, after all, and like most Kids These Days, has no concept whatsoever of privacy or discretion. His entire world is a three-inch screen, and he seems to think that everybody wants to know every single minute detail of his life, down to what he reads while wanking in the bathroom. He has, in fact, just posted his new phone number on FB. You get the idea - everything is fair game for publication, including band meetings. Immediately this alerts our ex-Drama Queen, who begins asking him questions, which he happily answers; she, in turn, begins texting and emailing all of us, stirring the pot even further. Sigh ...

I can honestly see this whole thing imploding soon. And, honestly, I don't much care at this point. The aforementioned band meeting was a complete waste of time, as band meetings usually are - everybody complains, nobody listens, and two hours later nothing has changed. The worst part is it seems to be devolving into an Us vs. Them scenario, between the two founding members and the two new members, with me stuck in the middle. I can guarantee that this is the quickest way to lose my interest and support for the project.

On the upside, a Performance Challenge. I have a gig this afternoon. A total pick-up group playing at a company Christmas party. Drummer JD knows a guy at his dayjob who is in another band, and somebody got the bright idea of having them play. Being short a few bodies, JD called me to sit in. I don't know anybody else, we've never practiced, and I just got the song list last night - it's mostly old R 'n' B. So, we're going in pretty much completely cold. Should be fun :D

Decisions

Morning earworm: Give Blood, Pete Townshend. Just did over the weekend, but that has nothing to do with it. I've always dug this song; David Gilmour (Pink Floyd) on second guitar.



So - last night's band meeting was pretty much all I expected, and less. Band meetings are, traditionally, miserable and wretched affairs that most people look forward to with as much enthusiasm as a hot coffee enema. A lot of talking, opinions offered, suggestions made, and nothing productive accomplished. I can see this not lasting much longer. I can also see it devolving into an Us vs. Them scenario between MG / JD and AV / JB, with me stuck in the middle. Whatever.

Another decision which rather snuck up on me regards what we refer to around here as the Other Site. There are about a dozen or so people I had hoped to keep in touch with when I left previously, and that really hasn't happened. The break was necessary, for numerous reasons, but I think it may be time to return, albeit on a more limited basis. I believe that I have my head straightened out sufficiently to do this without it becoming the albatross it had grown into previously. I recognize that part of this may well be ego, having apparently only one person follow me here, but in truth I do miss trolling their blogs as well. So, we'll see how it goes.

Act in private as if your behaviour were known in public.

Cliffhanger

Morning earworm: Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow, Jethro Tull. Probably my favorite Christmas song - lol.



Quite a bit going on here lately, in terms of pondering the future. Amid all of this, my other blog ended yesterday. It will resume after a couple weeks off, just as a break and reset sort of thing. Traditionally, this particular practice of journaling (properly not blogging) is undertaken as, among other things, an exercise in commitment, for a period of 1,000 days. I think it is safe to say, after eight and a half years, my commitment is reasonably established; indeed, it has arguably become more habit than discipline. So, a few weeks off before the next undertaking, to begin on New Year's Day (1.1.11) - a quick estimate will bring the new cycle to a close on or about 26 Sept 2013.

This document will remain, at least as long as I stay interested, during the hiatus. I noted in the final entry last night that with all of my contemplation on the future, my continued involvement with the band and Guitar Craft (or not) it was something of a cliffhanger ending to this cycle. Truth be told, it came to me in the real Morning Pages today that most of these decisions had already been made, possibly before the questions were even asked. This is not uncommon - A beginning is invisible, as we say.

Somewhat unrelated, it also came to me that the new year properly begins tomorrow, with the Winter Solstice (23:38 GMT). There are any number of arbitrary points by which we may mark our laps around the sun, but this one seems more appropriate to me, as a physical actuality as well as a symbolic point of reference.

Speaking of blogs / journals, the Saturday performance in NYC has been posted by the performer.

Local events have global repercussions.

Still Technically Morning

Morning earworm: Scuttle Buttin', Stevie Ray Vaughn. Rousing.



Ended up with only a couple of inches yesterday, but still enough to be inconvenient:



Wife ended up parking at the end of the road last night, so I joined her in the morning walk back, to check the mail. There was none, of course - the whole "Neither Rain Nor Sleet Nor Snow" thing apparently doesn't apply here. At any rate, I was out in this at 7:00 this morning. Ugh.

Being a good day to stay in yesterday, I did. Productive work in the Bunker, finally solving a nagging problem with the new rig, which as usual ended up being operator error. Who knew those footswitches were programmable? As is becoming the routine, all afternoon was spent in the kitchen again; the bread ended up being an all-day project, but was well worth the wait. In the interim, a bratwurst pizza was produced for dinner - fabbo, as always, if I do say so myself.

Needless to say, the band meeting was canceled, with no reschedule date yet. Works for me. I really need to get ahold of some people and put together a side project.

For now, at least the sun is out, and the temps promise to cross the freezing mark ascending. Word is the streets are clear, other than our little Back 40.

"Tomorrow" is the first lie of the Devil.

Fluffy White Evil

Morning earworm: Right Here Right Now, Jesus Jones. Heard it on the radio the other day.



Winter is at last upon us, beginning about an hour ago:

One upside - the only one, I'll venture - is that this may put a damper on tonight's band meeting. One can only hope.

Done a fair amount of soul searching over the last few days, questioning my direction, my future, and specifically my continued involvement in Guitar Craft. There are many factors at work here; the main challenge is that I am being called to do other things musically, and the growing rift I feel with many of my fellow Crafties, who are proving to be an ever more vocal bunch of bleeding-heart pinkos. I can't understand how it is that everything we have been taught is so easily abandoned when politics enters the picture. At any rate, I have a sense that it may be time to move on. Robert himself has said "For some, Guitar Craft is the Way; for others, it is a way to the Way." It would seem that I have moved into the latter category.

Ironically, it is much the same situation as with politics itself - the philosophy and system are sound, but it's practitioners have fallen woefully short.

Good habit is necessary, bad habit is inevitable.

Pass

I would refer to this as a contractually-obligated post, but there is actually no contract. Another morning derailed by the idiotic political spewing of my leftist friends. I simply cannot understand it - we've all read the same books, studied the same teachings, and yet they draw completely different conclusions than I do, most of them dangerously wrong. That isn't to say that my right-wing friends aren't just as misguided, but they typically are operating from a different base philosophy from the outset.

I have to say, for a party calling itself pro-choice, they sure like their mandates. (This in contrast to the pro-life party, which supports capital punishment and endless war).

The whole left / right, Dem / Rep thing is a simple dyad, a two term system. They are opposite sides of the same coin (which they think we owe them), two ends of the same stick - and at the end of the day, I don't much notice any difference which end of the stick is being jammed up my ...

Just When You Thought It Was Safe ...

Morning earworm: Games People Play, the Alan Parsons Project. A subliminal message, perhaps?



So, Saturday. Woke up feeling much better than Friday, but still opted to take it easy before the final show of the year. Or so I thought. Weirdness was already brewing on Friday - apparently word on the Web was that former vocalist JV wanted to come to Saturday's show and possibly sit in. Awkward, but not unheard of. We did extend the offer when she left, but it was kind of one of those polite things you just say, reasonably certain that they will never take you up on it. I didn't think anything of it at the time. Current vocalist AV did, it seems, and by mid-afternoon Saturday she had flaked out and bailed on the gig. A few texts were exchanged between her and JD & MG, and I eventually got a Facebook message from her, to the effect that Sorry, but I can't go through (the campground debacle) again, please don't hate me. So, after a few phone calls, we ended up canceling at the last minute. JV, incidentally, later texted that she wouldn't be there after all, completely oblivious to all of this. So, a night off. This is, of course, putting the good face on the fact that I lost a paycheck and we'll probably never play that room again. I thought we were through with the drama ...

To say that I am disappointed is an understatement. I understand her position, and indeed can fully appreciate it; but I had expected better from her. There is the dreaded Band Meeting on Thursday, when hopefully everyone can get everything out in the open and get things squared away. Unfortunately, I have the sense that this is going to involve the Grizzled Veteran Gigster / Voice of Reason and Experience (i.e. me) delivering the lecture on How Things Work. To everyone.

There are no guarantees in this line of work, especially in these times of economic woe. Our current trajectory of playing the animal clubs is decent money, but ultimately a dead end, and we have very nearly already reached it. There are no appropriate venues for us to play here in town unless we play for next to nothing, which I am not willing to do no matter how many of your friends will show up. And several other Unfortunate Truths about the music business at the bottom of the food chain.

We have three rights: the right to work, the right to pay to work, and the right to suffer the consequences of our work.
We have three obligations: the obligation to work, the obligation to pay to work, and the obligation to suffer the consequences of our work.