What Do a Blue Moon and this Blog Post Have in Common?

Greeting!

(Normally I would say greetings, but I think I'm down to one reader of this blog, now. Me.) Actually I stole that bit. When I was a little kid my mother and sister were looking for my sister's tennis shoes all over our apartment. Eventually my mom held up a tennis shoe and said, "I found one!"  My sister took it from her and said, "Thank."

It's been so long since I've written a blog post, and here I don't count those most recent posts where all I did was stick up a photograph, that I figure at this point, anything I write will be an improvement. Or possibly a detriment. Either way, it's sort of locked in, cosmically, and all I have to do is type more or less randomly.

Things have settled down. Another way of saying there has occurred a slow transformation in my life from annoying to boring. But, I dast not complain, because the annoying part was pretty damn annoying. Apartment living agrees with me pretty much. However, one night during the St. Patrick's day Parade and Public Urination Extravaganza, here in Kansas City, someone parked overnight in my parking spot. MY parking spot. I had to park out on the street. I leave as an exercise for the student what kind of car it was. Hint: it belonged to someone really important.

The cats continue to guard the place. Often they can be seen racing back and forth from the bedroom to the front bay window at top speed, dodging, leaping over, or otherwise crashing into hapless items that have bumbled onto that imaginary line between point A and point B. What they are doing, I figured out, is chasing either ghosts or those entities that reside in the parallel universe very close to ours and which only cats can see. Or really small gnats.

I live within walking distance of probably hundreds of retail stores and coffee shops and restaurants.

I am not in a band, but I practice as if I am, with these two guys, one of whom plays bass and the other drums. (I play guitar.) They are Ali and Khalid, relative late comers to the North American continent and the U.S. (early 70s) Actually we have a lot in common. I arrived in Kansas City from California about the same time they arrived from Pakistan, the only difference being that I faced the more challenging adaptation, because, you know, California.

I kid the Californians. No. Anyway, These guys like to play jazz. I have no idea how to do that, which makes me the perfect counterpoint to their efforts. The real difference between jazz and Rock & Roll is Rock & Roll uses three chords, and jazz uses 147 chords, many of which are attainable on the standard guitar fingerboard only with the use of three hands and a couple of C-clamps. I'm not sure yet why such simple melodies such as you find in pieces like Blue Moon or Lady in Red require so much complexity. Or maybe I'm thinking about it wrong. (Actually, I know I am.  It's a curse.)

There's more, but to keep going is to fall off the reverse hyperbolic curve on the boredom chart, and we don't want to do that.