Many hours late but, Let’s get ready to rumble! I mean blog. and by us, I mean me. One sentence in and this entry has gone off the rails. I just realized that I refer to myself as blind and an idiot so often that My Gentle Readers might suspect that I am Azathoth, the Blind Idiot God of H.P. Lovecraft’s creation. Fear me!
Last night I got myself moving and out of the house, what was the lure? Emily “Not John” Mure and Caroline “Not Welcome Back” Cotter. I heard the cute merch guy would be there. The show was at Rockwood Music Hall Stage 3. I thought I left myself plenty of time but just missed a D train and had to wait 15 minutes for the next. There went my grabbing pizza before the show time. I arrived after doors which I don’t feel comfortable with when I do merch. When I arrived at Rockwood I heard someone shout out my name; I’m blind, an idiot, and it was dark, so I had to ask, “Who said that?” It was Deni Bonet and she was right in front of me. She was at Rockwood 3 right before Emily. I didn’t see the email and didn’t notice her on the schedule as she wasn’t there as herself but accompanying another musician. I just checked and don’t have an email with the gig on it.
How did I not know one person at the show? You are disappointing me people. I expect you to have great taste in music and for at least one of my friends at a show at a major venue. I’m expecting more next time.
Caroline and Emily know each other from music camp. I didn’t get a chance to ask but I take it that it’s Miles of Music. I know Emily goes to that. If that’s where they met I have to refile Caroline in my mind. Miles of Music is a major category of musician.
I’m feeling very stupid now, I forgot the insight on Emily I had. I remember one thing; on one song, not that I know its title, it’s about wanting to be a gymnast, it starts with a long section that is sung to a melody but sounds like prose not poetry. It is poetry, it’s very good poetry. It’s just free of the usual poetry straightjackets. I like that.
I see my mind is not going to come up with insights on Caroline and Emily. I feel bad, sometimes artists take that as a reflection on themselves instead of a statement about the state of my mind. It isn’t. It’s not you; it’s me. Thank you, George, for inventing that.
I do remember the most important thing and what’s driving everything else out of my brain. Emily started as a classical oboist and still plays it at shows. I decided the world needs an oboe joke and to fill the need myself. This is not like writing accordion or banjo jokes; Those are like shooting fish in a barrel, a fate the fish would prefer to listening to an accordion or a banjo.
A rich philistine, perhaps one that became president, has a party and invites the worlds greatest oboist to perform. She’s worried about protecting her oboe during the flight and the rich philistine tells her to not worry, that he as a collection of the greatest musical instruments and she can play one of his. When she arrives and asks him for the oboe she’ll be playing he hands her a trombone.
Musician: Why are you giving me that?
Philistine: It’s your oboe. I was told that it’s the best. It must be, it was the most expensive.
Musician: You don’t know your brass from your oboe.
I wanted to tell that to Emily after the show, I wrote it while I was there. I then transformed into child Dar saying, “I can’t wait to tell her the joke. I can’t wait to till her the joke.” Then I didn’t because it was too loud in the room above Rockwood 3.
When I figured I was not going to sell any more CDs I gave Caroline and Emily their money and their hugs and headed out. It was late and I still hadn’t eaten. I went to Rosarios. It’s is now my pizzeria of choice. It not only has great pizza, with nice thick crust not the nouveau thin crust, but it fits most of the criteria we set as kids for first rate pizza. The place should be small, look like a dive, have a juke box, and the owner should talk like he just got off the boat from Italy. The only one it lacks is the juke box. The owner is not just from Italy but from Sicily. You can get round pizzas that have a crust like a square Sicilian. It’s even better when I go with Allison as she speaks Sicilian with him.
I had a New York Weekend Subway nightmare on the way home even though it was a weekday. I was debating if I should get on the F train and take it one stop to the D or to just walk to Broadway Lafayette. I like taking the walk after a show at Rockwood. I was just worried about the timing. I didn’t want it to take me much longer. I checked on Google Maps and the MTA app. They said to take the F and change to the D at W 4th not Broadway Lafayette. I wondered if the D were on the A line. Whatever it is I followed the directions. The D was supposed to come right away. It didn’t. An A train came. Then another F, then another F. After 15 minutes or so I checked to see when the next train was coming and it said no D was coming. When I asked how to get home it said take the E train to the D. I went up to where the E stops and there found an MTA employee that told me that the D was only running between 34th street and Norwood in the Bronx and that I should take the F to 34th street. It would be nice if someone had announced that on the F train. I checked on the platform and, on a pillar, not visible from where I had been there was a small sign. Only on the fine print did it say that the D stopped running early. I ended up taking the A to the D but lost a lot of time in the process. There were no trains at all stopping on the platform where the D usually stops. It should have been roped off. That’s what the usually do when a platform isn’t in service. Some people at the MTA seriously screwed up.
At least I don’t have to worry about catching the last bus like I did on City Island. This is relatively relaxed commuting. The easiest I ever had other than the summer I spent in Fort Greene.
I had USPS success. I ordered coffee from Ahrre.com. It came quickly and was delivered correctly to my door. My complaints did some good. They are now treating me with kid gloves. The package carrier asked if everything was good with the service. It was. I ordered some more things from Amazon. We’ll see how that goes.
I ordered the Hawaiian Kauai Extra Fancy. I had never had it before. I made this morning’s coffee with it; it was exceptional. Ahrre’s the official coffee of the Budgiedome. I joke but the coffee is that good. That’s why Ahrre aka Arpie aka Arpos was able to book the best musicians for Coffee with a Conscience, and now for his house concerts. Forget money, you want folk musicians to play supply good scotch or coffee. Then don’t forget the money, they have to eat and pay rent too.
Damn it’s late. I better wrap this up. Ve con monstruo volador de espagueti mis compañeros.
Wise Madness 