Hallo all. It's been a while. I have no excuses except that natch, when one is as important and in demand and busy as I (and I am very important and in demand and busy), one does tend to run short on time. Ahem.... Seems like I've had more gigs than usual lately. To bad they're always either for free or next to it, and there has been as trend of each possessing some demoralizing, degrading quality. I refer you to the musical of earlier this summer, and now to a conccert band that I am doing. The band is good times, really. Ostensibly, it's got something to do with an art festival, but it's purpose is to give middle and highschoolers to have a chance to play with more experienced musicians. Mr B asked some of his students to participate. It's just that it's a voluteer deal, in Gloversville, about forty-five miles from here, twice a week. There's my grocery money buring up into the atmosphere. Oh yeah, and there's T-Shirts. Bright, orange, t-shirts. They want us to wear them over khakis. Unfortunately, the only khaki I have is in the form of hiking shorts, two sizes too big. Mm-hmm. I look like a jackass. For you, Mr B, I do it for you. Mr B inspires loyalty like I have never seen before in his students, including me. If he asked me to play wearing a roll of Saran-Wrap with an aluminum foil hat, using my credit card to pump gas into a flushing toilet, standing barefoot on piles broken glass, in a puddle of lemon juice, while being lightly dusted with mange, I'd only want to know how soon he could get me the parts I needed to learn, and whether or not there was any good treatment for mange on the market these days. In other news, I'm on a kickball team. We're called the Hornets. Bzzzzz! We're awesome, it's true. Granted, it's questionable whether any of us actually know how kickball works but we do have Hornets jerseys that our captain silk screened last night. I feel like if i can actually connect with the ball when it is pitched to me, I should do all right.