MDRF Opening weekend 3.0
Please be aware that this LJ entry, though based on actual events, is a dramatization. Certain events and characters have been combined or altered to help the development of the storyline.
I made an unwise choice several weeks ago. I decided to help out my dear friends John and John of the Troubadorables on Saturday. They have been trying to get their rival band, The Hooligans, fired from the fair for stealing their act.
The Troubadorables seemed to have thought that classing the act up by temporarily blending in the sophisticated sound of ThreePenny Bit for one day would convince management that the Hooligans were lame posers. Frankly, Donna and I were just in it for the money,'cause that's how we roll.
Any way we got together with the Johns and had a practice. Normally the idea of learning another band's whole playlist in one night would seem like a bad idea; but since we are both made of the awesome, we had everything memorized before we finished the second pizza.
So I showed up on Saturday and suddenly realized that I had agreed to be playing 9 sets over the course of the day. The last time I tried this was back when I performed in Ironweed and the PRs at the same time. My Pyrate bandmates showed great compassion to my plight through their laughter and finger-pointing. By the end of the day I was a wrung-out drippy lump. Donna and the Johns had played all the tunes we had planned, but at at 30x the speed we had practiced them. I only whined a tiny bit about the 1/4 inch of fingernail I eroded off my pick hand index finger. w'aaaaaaaaah.
Reports are sketchy about whether we were able to help the Troubadorables quest. In any case I only had to deal with 5 PR sets on Sunday.
Sunday morning started out cool and sticky progressed to warm and sticky during the day. This contributed in an odd way to me substantially ripping my slop pants inseam mid-day. The mechanics are unimportant, but I had to keep from shocking our fans by cautious seating posture and the creative placement of my guitar. It was a bit like wearing a kilt.
A violent lightning storm rolled through the village about an hour before pubsing. We quickly began our emergency procedure; closing watertight compartments and rigging the stage for silent running.
I believe that the following weeks will be rain-free for one simple reason. There is no more water left in the sky. It has all fallen out. This does not preclude showers of frogs, insects and rocks, but at least it won't be raining. Promise.
I made an unwise choice several weeks ago. I decided to help out my dear friends John and John of the Troubadorables on Saturday. They have been trying to get their rival band, The Hooligans, fired from the fair for stealing their act.
The Troubadorables seemed to have thought that classing the act up by temporarily blending in the sophisticated sound of ThreePenny Bit for one day would convince management that the Hooligans were lame posers. Frankly, Donna and I were just in it for the money,'cause that's how we roll.
Any way we got together with the Johns and had a practice. Normally the idea of learning another band's whole playlist in one night would seem like a bad idea; but since we are both made of the awesome, we had everything memorized before we finished the second pizza.
So I showed up on Saturday and suddenly realized that I had agreed to be playing 9 sets over the course of the day. The last time I tried this was back when I performed in Ironweed and the PRs at the same time. My Pyrate bandmates showed great compassion to my plight through their laughter and finger-pointing. By the end of the day I was a wrung-out drippy lump. Donna and the Johns had played all the tunes we had planned, but at at 30x the speed we had practiced them. I only whined a tiny bit about the 1/4 inch of fingernail I eroded off my pick hand index finger. w'aaaaaaaaah.
Reports are sketchy about whether we were able to help the Troubadorables quest. In any case I only had to deal with 5 PR sets on Sunday.
Sunday morning started out cool and sticky progressed to warm and sticky during the day. This contributed in an odd way to me substantially ripping my slop pants inseam mid-day. The mechanics are unimportant, but I had to keep from shocking our fans by cautious seating posture and the creative placement of my guitar. It was a bit like wearing a kilt.
A violent lightning storm rolled through the village about an hour before pubsing. We quickly began our emergency procedure; closing watertight compartments and rigging the stage for silent running.
I believe that the following weeks will be rain-free for one simple reason. There is no more water left in the sky. It has all fallen out. This does not preclude showers of frogs, insects and rocks, but at least it won't be raining. Promise.