sang at a party

I sang at a party this weekend. Like, I was at a party and somebody said "Let's here some music" and I was asked to be involved rather than politely but ineffectively dissuaded from it. Weird. This photo is not from the party but from my participation in a science project. My singing is more of a social studies  project. I belted out a couple of songs, including one I wrote, with the gusto of a Mentos-soda reaction and gauged my results by the raucous applause. Someone had a camera so if the results turn up I'll post it.



Edited to add: Jayme St. Romain came up with a picture of me trying to remember how to plan an F on a ukulele while she sang Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams".

Sunday:
Dino Buzzati, Poem Strip
Oliver Sachs, Hallucinations
Ramones, End of the Century
Japandroids, Celebration Rock

Monday:
James Chance & the Contortions, Lost Chance
Pylon, Gyrate
Ken Stringfellow, Danzig in the Moonlight

Tuesday:
Solange, True
Prince, Lovesexy
Eddie Hazel, Games, Dames and Guitar Thangs
The Beginning of the End, Funky Nassau
Fela Kuti, Opposite People and Original Sufferhead

Wednesday:
Frank Zappa, The Grand Wazoo and Zoot Allures

Thursday:
KPCP 88.3 FM New Roads, LA

Friday:
Trio, Da Da Da

Saturday:
Doug Sahm & His Band, Doug Sahm & His Band
Doug Kershaw, Devil's Elbow

I really like singing. I'm being precious, I know. Bear with me. Or not; it is the Internet. Singing is something I was pretty well convinced was out of my skill set, and am not wholly convinced it is a thing I should do, but there were a couple of singers there at the party who commended my efforts and it didn't seem like pity.

That is my standard for accolades: didn't seem like pity.

One of those musicians was Mr. Ben Bell who I profiled in the December issue of Country Roads.  He's an affable galoot with a honey-rich country croon. I wish I'd thought of that for the article.

I had my first round of last-classes-of-the-semeter this week which was a little more touching than I expected. I mean, they are all understandably sick of my shit at this point and trying to get projects in and figure out what they need to make on the final - as if they can precisely ratchet down their effort to that which is absolutely necessary - and so on, but at least with my morning section, we seemed to have a moment there.

Busy, busy. My habit here on the blog has become a weekly one but weirdly, my stats don't seem to suffer for it; in fact they've improved. I'd like to think its that I'm crafting a deeper message by waiting, but likely not. It's probably just how the numbers work and that the robots reading all this content comprising "hit counts" don't really care if it is new material they are consuming. To the robots, everything we say and do is the same. Happy December!