Too often over the past 13 years since I got my first bass, I put more effort into finding reasons not to practice than I ever put into actually practicing. As a result, I got very good at not practicing and remained quite mediocre at the bass. I have practiced at least once a day, often twice a day, since coming back from bass camp. This morning I was quite tired from a poor night's sleep and much in need of making some food to take for lunch, so I passed on my morning practice. It was not a grievous sin. The few mornings I've not practiced, I always made up for it at night.
Then, tonight, the bastards at Discovery Times decided to show 2 episodes of "500 Nations," a very cool series on Native Americans. I watched because that would still leave enough time for a decent practice session after. Then after came. I got up and just about fell over. Lack of sleep was hitting me hard and I really just wanted to go to bed. So, I made myself a deal, I would take today off and get some sleep and then no more slacking. So, I gave the dog her dinner. As I was putting the measuring cup away and starting to aim myself towards bed, I was struck by a strong desire to come up here, strap on my bass and practice for a while. It wasn't a sense of obligation, it wasn't a fear that if I didn't I would always suck as a bass player. It was that I simply wanted to, I knew that I would enjoy it for its own sake.
So, I came up, strapped on my bass and practiced. And I enjoyed it.
I thought I loved bass before Bass Camp. But since then, I have found a love for my bass, a sense of (dare I say it) play in my playing. And every day, that love grows stronger. There is something else that has (changed? amplified?) since Bass Camp.
When I left for Bass Camp, I weighed at least 365 pounds. I could swear I actually weighed 375, but Laura insists I was a mere 365. When I got back I was 360. I was rather impressed. A touch of moderation in the feed bag and a whole lot of walking had lost me at least 5 pounds in just a week. Of course, I was about to go back to my desk job and my regular eating habits, so I figured I was going to get those pounds back, along with some reinforcements, until Laura and I manage to get ourselves back on Atkins.
I weighed myself yesterday. Three times I weighed myself, because I could not believe what I was seeing. I was down to 355. I had lost another 5 pounds without even trying. I can only guess what has happened. One possibility is that the cough I have been enjoying with this past week's cold/allergies has served as some sort of rudimentary exercise, and the high volumes of snot production has diverted much needed resources away from fat production. Another is that the andro gel I am on for my inherent lack of manliness has somehow speeded up my metabolism. Or I have cancer.
Either way, let's hear it for effortless weight loss!
The day got off to a bad start before I even woke up. I had been dreaming that I was a kid at some military school. The teachers kept coming into the classrooms, dressed in uniforms out of some music video, blowing away the kids. They would show up with shot guns and automatic pistols and all the kids would hit the deck. I kept living through this somehow. In the next class the teachers would show up again and my schoolmates heads would begin exploding around me. Over and over I got to duck and cover as bits of children splattered on me. Finally I got one of the pistols away from the teachers and then I ... Steph poked me in the shoulder. She was going off to make lunches - time to get up. I should have taken the hint that the world would do fine without me and just stayed in bed. I think I'll skip watching Law and Order tonight.
I've been reading "From a Buick 8" by Stephen King. I only read it on the bus. So, it's taking me a little while to get through. But, this book, well, it's not typical King. Or, typical anyone. I've never read a book like this, this is as close to oral tradition as books get. I think that's the point, but it was frustrating to read at first, in the middle it was downright boring. However, I'm in the final stretch and it's getting interesting finally. The problem is, the traffic has been fair to non-existent the last few days. We figure traffic into everything around here. If you are going to the video store at 2AM on a Thursday to drop off some discs, make sure to add a half hour to your trip. So, instead of getting to read good part in depth on the way into work - I just get going and then I have to get off the bus. Joy! I'll be reading this book for another four months!
I got to work and pulled out The Bag of Food. When you are on a diet, you should plan your meals very carefully. Steph makes this easy for me by packing lots of great food. For breakfast, I usually have a Slim Fast Low Carb shake and then later in the morning a low carb bar. All told about four or five carbs and about 400 calories. However, this morning, my shake was frozen. I guess it froze in the refrigerator. Those damn steel cans conduct cold FAR too well. One of the primary ingredients in these shakes is soy milk (read: soy oil). So, what I got wasn't like what you would get if you froze a normal shake. It didn't taste bad, it just felt like frozen snot in your mouth. I thought I'd let it thaw. Apparently the thaw point of soy milk is near the melting point of lead - it certainly isn't room temperature. Finally I gave up and tossed it out. I figured I'd go to the cafeteria and get some bacon and rehydrated eggs. Well, I was so busy that by the time I got over there all that was left was donuts. I went back to my desk, ate my bar, drank my water and fumed.
While I was questing for bacon, I missed a call from the LAN admin on the east coast. His message was extensive: "Give me a call." A voicemail with no information is a waste of everyone's time IMHO. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but I wasn't having a good morning so far. I mean, no bacon, what's that crap? I called him back, he wasn't there, I left a message. I needed to make copies, he of course called while I was gone. I called him back - not there. Finally he called me back and got me at my desk - just as I was getting up to go pee. Lovely. The problem was trivial and stupid, but this guy and I suffer the same problem: our users are the ones who pay us. So, when they break out in a case of the stupids or grow fat fingers, it's the system's fault and we need to fix it. I can't wait for the hyper-intelligent psychic operating system (HIP/OS (TM)) to be installed on these people's machines - maybe they'll shut up for a minute.
A little later, I get an email from a user with this simple bit of astute observation:
"BTW my voicemail doesn't work."
That's it, that was the whole email. But, see, it's even worse than this. I guess the east coast office had a major case of the stupids floating around in the air, because this guy works out there. He didn't send this message to me, he sent it to the computer guys. So, he sent it to the wrong people, on the wrong coast and looked like an idiot in the process. I contacted the local LAN admin, got him on the first call this time! He explained that this customer has a sense of humor. I guess I missed the joke. There is actually more to this story, but if I told you I would be violating security as well as my NDA - let's just say it's enough to drive a systems tech to rip out his hair.
The purchasing system in our department, in a word, lacks. Basically, if you want to order something, you are better off breaking a wishbone. You have the exact same chance of getting what you wanted in a timely manner. So, when we want something, we sometimes bend the rules. I have a corporate credit card - it's not as cool as it sounds. It's paid at the end of the month no matter what, it makes a direct deduction from our checking account. This is a great motivator to turn in my expenses on time! I recently made a purchase for our group and I turned in the request for reimbursement, about $200. Now, I don't get along with Type A people real well anyway. But, the bean counters around here seem to have an unusually large stick up their collective collecting asses! They seem to think that because they have all these rules, forms and processes that it makes sense to everyone else and that the rest of us live and breathe this stuff just like they do. I just want my freaking money. It takes them two or more days, not to mention half a dozen calls to you even after you have followed all the rules and filled out all the forms. Finally, after my boss intervened, they cut me a check. I don't think I'll be doing this again. I have some travel coming up, that will fulfill my yearly paperwork quota just nicely, thank you.
One of the things I ordered still hasn't shown up yet - it's been two and a half weeks. I have to write a report on this shit. One of the few things I'm not slacking on is going to make me look like a slacker!
We are moving from NT 4.0 to WinXP - just three months before Microsoft is dropping support for NT. So, there is some software we have passed out to people that shouldn't have been affected by WinXp in the least. But, sure enough, functionality that was there before the switch is not there now. This is a simple bit of software. However, the Systems technitions are cock sure it can't be one of the millions of settings and security controls in XP that is limiting this functionality. It has to be this bit of software, it has to be one of the four variables under Properties that haven't changed a lick. It's always the voicemail system. If your phone doesn't work right, blame the voicemail system. If your computer freezes up, it's the voicemail system. If your cell phone goes on the fritz, it must be the voicemail system. If it rains frogs somewhere near you, let me know and I'll go reboot the voicemail system.
On top of all of this, I still have to be here for two more hours. Yummy.
This time two weeks ago, I was somewhere deep within the bowels of Illinois, heading for Bass Camp. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. This time last week, I most likely had my bass strapped to me, running through the dexterity exercises Anthony Wellington showed us. Today I am the room that will eventually be my office, but for now is one of the catch-all rooms we are using for storage while we slowly rebuild this house.
Outside there is a cloudless sky. It is somewhere in the 70's, heading toward the 80's. I am feeling somewhat antsy and restless on this, the first day I have had off since getting back to work. I am going to aim that restlessness at my bass as soon as I am done writing this. I can't remember a time when I did not want to be a musician. The problem was I never was willing to work at it. I would hit random keys on the organ my parents had in their living room, ignoring the books we had on how to actually play the silly thing. I would frown at my mother when she would harrass me to practice my trombone (or clarinet, or guitar, or whatever instrument I had decided that week I was going to learn by osmosis). My main problem in life is that I have been so unwilling to work at just about anything, even things I really care about.
I have loved the bass since before I knew what the bass was. I knew that in most bands there was always one guitarist who sounded way cooler than the other(s). I would always look for the guy who made that awesome sound. Somewhere along the way I figured out that his guitar was bigger than the others, but had only four strings. In a way, I felt a little cheated. The really cool sounding guitar only had four strings? What kind of ripoff was that? Who would want to play a four string guitar (even a cool sounding one) when there are six string guitars in the world? Then cameth John Entwistle. Even though I was a generation removed, I was forever changed by "My Generation." Shortly after that, I discovered Chris Squire, Greg Lake, Geddy Lee, Jaco, Victor Wooten... Bass became an obsession.
But still I was unwilling to work at it. I have owned a bass since the early 90's. But for most of that time, it maybe saw the light of day every few months. When I did pull it out, I mostly just futzed around, wishing I could play like my heroes, unwilling to put in the work they did. On occasion I would make a semi-serious attempt to learn something, to practice. Usually I would get frustrated. Or I would get distracted.
For the past week, I have been doing what I should have been doing since that box from Carvin was first dropped at my door. I have been working. My first three days back form camp, I probably spent 90 minutes a day practicing. Since then, I have given up 10 minutes of sleep every morning since I went back to work, along with my early morning computer time, to buy myself a half hour of practice in the morning. I try to squeeze in at least another 20 minutes at night as well. Of course, this time, I am actually enjoying it. I am not looking at this long path of boring practice that cruel fate has thrown up between me and my destiny as a rock star. Rather, I am taking pleasure in being where I am as player, enjoying the process of becoming better, step by step, and not worrying so much about where it may lead.
So there is one thing that changed in me while I was at Bass Camp.
I just spent five of the most amazing days I have ever experienced. I am sitting here staring at this screen trying to come up with words to share with you what I just went through. How do I convey what I just experienced? I guess that is my job as a writer. But have you ever wandered barefoot and blindfolded through the woods just after a major downpour? Even if you did, would you feel the same way I did? Would you feel disgusted as your feet picked up unspeakable filth from the ground? Would you curse every obstacle you tripped over? Hate every tree you ran into? Fight every step of the way to not just pull off the blindfold and give up? And if so, would you feel as I did at the end, after this endless, hellish experience? Would you feel a lightness of spirit? The joy, the high like almost no other you've ever felt, as you pulled off the blindfold?
Would you have immediately question the wisdom of this adventure when you first saw the camp and its filth and primitive conditions? Would you have stayed anyway? Would you have felt like an idiot playing portions of the few songs you know in front of 60+ people you just met, not to mention some of your personal heroes, while sleep deprived and totally unprepared?
How would you feel making fire with a bow and stick?
What would it be like for you to try and find a drum while blindfolded? Would you be amazed at how it drove almost all other concerns from your mind?
Have you lost a child? Could I tell you how it felt to break down in tears talking about it when I was asked about a time when music was important to me? To have Gerald Veasley share with me that he and his wife suffered the same loss? To have him hug me without hesitation, to talk with me and offer support several time throughout the week? And after all he shared with me to listen to the piece he wrote for the daughter he lost? To have Chuck Rainey not just once but twice offer support, to tell me that my pain is what will make me a great bass player? Do you even really know who Gerald Veasley and Chuck Rainey are?
Can I really put into words what it felt like when Gerald led us in a bass version of a drum circle? Can I tell you what it felt like to make music in a group? To really groove on a simple line, amongst 7 other simple lines, making a powerful whole?
Bass/Nature Camp happened as much in my head as it did in Montgomery Bell State Park. It is still happening inside of me. I can tell you what it was like watching Will Lee sing a funny birthday song for Victor Wooten. I can tell you how amazing the performances were. I can tell you I met Stanley Clark, Victor Wooten, Will Lee, Futureman, Gerald Veasley, Chuck Rainey and tons of others I have long admired. But that would not tell you about the transformation I went through this week. I'm not sure I am good enough of a writer to really tell you about what has made me so much more confident about my musicianship, while still showing me how far I have to go, about what has made me more obsessed with the bass than ever.
The best way to really show you the Bass/Nature Camp I experienced is to give you the chance to get to know the person who drove out of that park yesterday. I'm not certain I know him very well. But I know he is not the same person who drive into that park on Tuesday.
I am back from Bass/Nature Camp. I have just been through one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I can't begin to find the words to tell you what I just experienced. To give you an example, at one point I was sitting at a picnic table easting dinner with Will Lee (David Lettermen) Chuck Rainey (Steely Dan and hundreds of others), discussing porn sites and nitrogen narcolepsy among other things. Maybe after a good night's sleep...
Here we are, day 44. No binges, no caffeine, no bread, very controlled cheating, etc. I haven't been to the gym, but it's on my list. We've been pretty active. Overall, the diet goes well.
I have proof of this well-going. I got weighed today. I'd make you guess the number, but since you are reading this, that isn't much fun. I'll just tell you, then, shall I? I weigh 446.3. That's 29.5 pounds less than when I started. That comes to about 3 pounds a week since I last got on the scale. It's about five pounds a week since I started. I don't want to look at it that way. I like the three pounds a week thing. If I can keep up that pace - I'm set!
Steph and I go talk to the doctor tomorrow. I get to see if my cholesterol has survived this ordeal. We are also doing an A1C test, this will track our blood sugar over the last six weeks and tell us if all is good in the world. Steph's blood sugar counts have been great! Most of her measurements have been in the black, or just slightly above - usually if she forgets her meds her numbers will go up. Either way, she is down like fifteen or so pounds, she is getting into clothes that have been in her closet for years. I think she is really enjoying that.
Six weeks ago I thought this was going to be an impossible thing. This is the longest I have ever been on a diet and it is certainly the most successful diet I have ever been on. I am so happy I did this! I can't wait to see where I am a year from now!
I just want to let our millions of reader that my red hot blogging pace will slow down to almost nil over the next week as I go off to TN to hang out with the promised one. See ya Sunday.
Yesterday, an email went out at work. The law firm I work for has a suite at Key Arena that they use for "client entertainment". In other words, they justify going to all kinds of basketball games as business expenses and write them off on their taxes. Being rich is fun!
Anyway, it turns out that now and then they will get tickets, on short notice, for various events. Yesterday, they had eight pairs of tickets to see Prince in concert. Two hundred people requested the tickets, yours truly blew his karma for the year and got one of those pairs of tickets!
Now, I'm not a rabid fan. I don't belong to the NPG Music Club or anything like that. But, I have always liked his music. Steph is big on classic rock and 80's pop, but I wasn't sure how she felt about Prince. We had watched a show on VH1 right after he released Musicology, and we both thought it was a cool show. However, when I told her I had put my name in for the drawing, she didn't seem too thrilled. When I told her I won, her tune completely changed! By 3:30 we were on our way home to shower, change clothes and head back to the concert, set to begin at 7:30. Why so much time? If you have to ask then you know nothing of Seattle traffic - we encountered it on the way out of Downtown and on the way back in.
So, not only did we get tickets to a suite, but we also got free parking. Since we arrived early, we got a great space but we had to wait for them to let us in. No sweat - we watched the freak-show. We were not disappointed. Steph and I have made a habit of pointing out to each other the fashion oppsies of those around us - from badly matched outfits to outfits that just don't work on that particular body (or any body for that matter.) This pastime is certainly increased when watching concert goers - especially funky Prince fans. Eventually, they let us in.
As we walked in, they handed us each a CD with the word "Musicology" on the packaging. I told Steph that I thought it was cool that they were giving out CD singles of the title track - she told me to look at the back. The back of the package listed all the song titles from the album - they were giving out the whole album to everyone in attendance! Pretty cool - I think this is a savvy thing for Prince to do in a music market that has gone haywire. If you don't own the album, like I didn't - well, now I had no excuse. For those that did own the album, you can bet the freebies will go to friends and relatives that don't - spreading the virus. Nicely done - Warner Bros. would never have done that, would they?
The suite was really nice. The seats were comfy, we had a private bathroom, and we were at just about half-court. We had one of the best views of the stage - which was very well laid out. It was basically four cat walks in a cross pattern with smaller stages between the cat walks. Frankly, in a venue like the Key and with that stage, there wasn't a bad seat in the house. Combine that with four huge video monitors, and you could see everything. It was one of the best seats I have ever had at a concert, second only to floor seats at Queensryche.
We waited for the concert to start. The other ticket winners from work showed up. It stinks, but I don't know any of these people by face - I talk to people on the phone. However, I have also given phone training to at least a third if not more of the staff in my building. So, they all know my face and name. I feel like a total heel. Anyway, we all waited and waited, 7:30 came and passed. I'm used to concerts not starting on time, but by 8:00 I was a little annoyed. We found out that they were selling tickets for $30 at the door. If you had bought them ahead of time, they ranged from $100 to $225! At 8pm the seats were just starting to fill. By 8:30, the place was pretty full, the lights went down, people screamed, and Prince rose from the center of the stage!
From there, it was two hours of non-stop music. As in, no stops. It was a freakin' roller coaster! He started off with some old tunes, but with his horn heavy band, they sounded more like jazz than 80's Top Forty. Fine by me. One of the sax players is a very attractive blonde. Female, blonde, attractive, sax player - could that be Candy Dulfer? I know if I was Prince, I'd want the beautiful blonde who can actually play! Sure enough, it was her. I don't know who the other band members were, but they could all PLAY. At one point Prince yelled out "Real music played by real musicians!" - he brings up a point. It was refreshing to see a band with actual musical talent. The Industry seems obsessed with quick bucks made on one hit wonders who can barely play their instruments - or, worse, just rap over samples from other artists. This was very different. At one point, Steph yelled in my ear "This is a (marching) band geek's wet dream!" I think she nailed the feeling perfectly.
They drifted into new material, then some material that isn't known to be Prince's, like "I feel 4 U" - which was popularized by Chaka Khan, but written and originally recorded by Prince. Quite often the music felt like the band was just doing some jazz jamming, riffing on Prince related melodies. But, there were obviously scripted dance routines and comedy bits. The first hour ended and Prince went off stage. The male sax player went into a jazzy rendition of "It's a wonderful world" that had us all cheering. Prince came back on stage with just a stool and an acoustic guitar. Not only is the man musically talented, he's funny, too. When were weren't rocking out to Stones tunes, or cheering as he lashed out at Warner Bros., he had us all rolling to his own brand of humor. The band returned to the stage and they went right back into jazzy, funky rock and roll goodness. By 10:30, they left the stage, but the crowd cheered for more.
Prince finished off the night with a spectacular performance of "Purple Rain." He stood illuminated on the stage in a turquoise suit, holding his purple "TAFKAP" guitar - this was a total Prince moment - just for the fans. Justifiably, they went insane and ate it right up.
Undeniably one of the best shows I have ever seen. Certainly the best perk I am likely to get out of work this year!
My sister wrote me yesterday asking if I knew of any unbiased sources of information one can use to help one decide between Shrub and Kerry. The following is the reply I sent her.
Well, there are few truly biased news sources - Fox on the right and Salon.com on the left - where you know that what you are reading has been filtered through an ideological/partisan filter. The problem with the majority of news sources is what I call artificial balance. They are so desperate to not be branded with the "B" word that they avoid presenting any information or context that may be seen to support one side or the other. So lets say Shrub issues a press release stating that his economic plans will make every American a millionaire within a month of his re-election. Then Kerry issues a counter release stating that Shrub's people are fudging the numbers and that they in fact have a plan to raise a 100% income tax on anyone making less than $75,000 a year to finance their Bentleys for Billionaires program. Most news sources will quote from both press releases and let it go at that. Some will take the next step and find a Republican and a Democratic member of congress to echo the party line. A few might take the additional step of interviewing some college professor who may or may not know what he is talking about and may or may not be biased himself.
Who can really be unbiased? Who doesn't have a horse in this race? The BBC? Surely this venerable epitome of journalistic integrity from another country can have no concern about the outcome of our election. Except that the BBC, independent though it may be, is an arm of the British government, who for reasons that escape me, have tied their fate to Shrub's. Does this show up in their reporting? I can't say for sure. But it certainly does not make me want to trust them without reservation.
Your best friend when wading into the media mire is a good bullshit detector. Does what you are being told contradict what you know to be true. He may be the President (or Senator), but you know more about social work, if not many other things, than he does. Does what he says contradict what you know? (BEEP BEEP) There goes the bullshit detector.
What if you don't know? Apply logic. "I did some incredibly heroic things over thirty years ago, so I am more qualified to be President than the guy who chickened out even though he been President for the last four years." (BEEP BEEP) "The fact that my Veep's former employer is getting incomprehensibly rich off of contracts they didn't even have to bid on is in no way a sign of corruption in my administration." (BEEP BEEP)
What if knowledge and logic fail you? Is it an issue that you care about? Is it something that will help you decide one way or the other? Then you need to do the footwork, dig up the facts you need to decide, applying the bullshit detector to every source you research.
In the end, democracy cannot be spoon fed. You have to do some of the work if you want to know it is being done right.
Welcome to Rancho De Colapso. Please keep an eye out for falling ceilings. And please try not to breathe. You'll notice the chimnies with no fireplaces. And please try not to use terms like "unfit for human habitation". We have feelings too.
