Waiting for the hurricane

Once more Louisiana is in the path of a major hurricane, this one named Ida. The predictive models are strongly projecting a landfall and inland path that will pass through Baton Rouge. We can expect heavy rain, strong winds and power outages starting early Monday. We're on high ground and have our generator so we should be able to ride the storm out safely in relative comfort. People along the coast and inland flood zones will not fare so well.

I'm not worried about it. I'm not worried about much of anything. I've become more stoic and fatalistic in recent years, especially since retiring from practice. I often have the thought that my life is essentially finished. I've proven I could make it in American society. I've gone as far as I'm likely to go with my music. My children are all outstanding women, successful professionals in good life situations, achieving the things they strive toward. What is left for me to prove, to accomplish? In a way, nothing. If I die today I've done enough. I've had an enviable life for which I'm grateful. I'm reconciled to God and mostly to humankind. But there are meaningful things I'd like to do. I'd like to find energy and to apply it with more discipline. I know this is possible. I want to put my mind to it.

The dreams keep coming

I slept well last night and in the morning had several dreams. I remember in the earlier one I was on the street outside an open storefront that reminded me of North Lumpkin Street in Athens as it was when A&A Bakery and Bowden's Music Store were located there way back in the 1960s. Some older African-American musicians were playing a gospel song that had the chorus "Trouble no more." The message was that after all of our trials, it's going to be OK. The tune was familiar and when I awoke, I identified it as a Henry Turner, Jr. song "Family Reunion." I think I woke up and went back to sleep after which I dreamed I was talking to Henry and telling him about hearing the song with similar music as his composition. Then I dreamed I was going with a friend to pick up his car that was being repaired. We left and I realized I wasn't wearing the tennis shoes I previously had on. I was puzzled and distressed because I didn't recall taking them off and there was no reason why I would have done this. It also seems I didn't have other shoes to wear and I became somewhat frantic to go back and find them.

Thinking about this, I googled "Trouble no more" and was reminded this is the title of a famous and familiar song by Muddy Waters that has been covered many times, most notably by the Allman Brothers on their first LP.  The hook is "But some day baby, you ain't gone trouble poor me any more." The dreams reflect anxiety and sadness I feel about getting older and being worried about vulnerability stemming from progressive infirmity and loss of memory. The transience of everything, lost opportunities for fulfillment in love and music, failing memory, and the inevitability of dying are often in my thoughts. Intellectually, I'm reconciled to all of this and grateful things, like the theme of "Trouble no more," have gone so well in my life; yet, I have to talk to myself continuously to keep that valid and positive perspective.

Charlie Watts

The iconic drummer of the Rolling Stones died today in London at age 80. Charlie was the backbone of the band, the beat beneath so many of the songs I love. His music lives on.

To everything there is a season. this we know. The idols of the '50 are gone and the stars of the '60s will continue to fall. 

Sam Cooke (12/11/1964)

Otis Redding (12/10/1967)

Brian Jones (7/3/1969)

Jimi Hendrix (9/18/1970)

Janis Joplin (10/4/1970)

Jim Morrison (7/3/1971)

Keith Moon (9/7/1978)

John Lennon (12/8/1980)

George Harrison (11/29/2001)

John Entwhistle (6/27/2002)

Charlie Watts (8/24/2021)

...

The Shark is a Lonely Hunter

As noted previously, I've had difficulty staying motivated to engage in my favorite pursuits, in particular, my music. I had a spell of motivation preparing for the Baton Rouge Soul Food Festival and was pleased with my performance. The show was filmed and one of my songs, Wrong Place, Right Time, is being including in a documentary film that's in production by some of Henry's associates.  Our vacation in Maine came right afterwards. I didn't have a guitar along and it would have been difficult to practice or work on songwriting anyway since Mary Lou, Jenny and I all stayed in one room. When I returned home, it seems I'd lost the momentum and I didn't pick up my guitar for almost two weeks. Last Thursday, I made myself throw together a set to play at the Listening Room and performed it in a perfunctory manner. However, I was determined not to languish and this got me started again. 

Now I'm working on an all original instrumental set for tomorrow (Thursday, August 19). The centerpiece is going to be The Shark is a Lonely Hunter, a favorite composition of mine I've never performed for an audience. To prepare, I've spent maybe 10 hours the past two days studying the second and more recent version I recorded to improve on the rough original (of which I'm inordinately fond) that I only have on mp3. I do have tracks from it to work with but they have major problems. In any case, the lead guitar parts on the rerecorded version are quite spicy and I've meticulously studied and relearned them. The song ends on a very fast 17-note riff that is tricky for me to play cleanly due to my chronic difficulty with staying focused on my fingers and not dissociating into a detached observer. It's doubtful I'll play the song perfectly but it's a great exercise for me to relearn the entire part and work at playing it accurately.  

All of this has reminded me of the thousands of hours I've put into my music since 2005 when I became inspired to take the guitar back up and strive to play as well as I can.  I've got a large archive of audio and video recordings to show for it, intellectual property that will be inherited at some point by my children.  I hope someone appreciates it and they don't throw my work away after I'm gone.

Another discombobulation dream

Despite being in a comfortable and secure situation in real life, I continue to have recurring themes of confusion and insecurity in my dreams. The latest came after I went back to sleep around 7am this morning.

I was with members of Rockin' Rouge when they got an opportunity to perform at a concert event in New Orleans. I felt excited and somehow thought it would be accepted for me to play with them, even though I'm no longer a member. It occurred to me someone in the music industry might be impressed by my original songs and offer me further opportunities.  

The gig was taking place in an indoor concert hall (but not the Saenger). The venue had multiple performance halls. The band was setting up and I realized I had not brought a guitar. Someone found a Gibson SG for me to play but I had also forgotten to bring an amp or an effects unit. The band was a combination of familiar and unfamiliar members including Robert "Shug" Thomas from Athens and two male singers. Someone who resembled Rusty Weaver was behind a sound board but I wasn't certain it was him. Then I found out the set list had been completely revamped since I left the band and did not include any songs I knew. It was clear I couldn't step in and play so I volunteered to remove myself and joined the audience. 

The band was set up in a balcony above the seats below. They started playing and the only person the audience could see was the lead singer who stepped out to the edge of the balcony. I didn't recognize the song although someone in the crowd started applauding approvingly. I left the auditorium for some reason and when I attempted to return, I accidentally went into a hall where a classical music concert was taking place. I realized this and ran from the back to a front exit quickly past audience and ensemble feeling embarrassed and concerned I was disrupting the concert. 

Next, I found myself in a sports arena where a hockey game was in progress. I wandered around looking for the exit and went into a kitchen area by another mistake. Finally, I got outside looking for the street where I had parked my car hours earlier only to find myself in a paved back lot of some sort. I doubled back and eventually found the street but instead of the commercial district I expected, it was an unfamiliar blue collar African-American neighborhood. I felt somewhat unsafe and after walking about a block, again turned back and went into the venue building,.There, I saw a younger man and woman talking and I approached the man from behind to ask for help. I tapped him on the shoulder causing a thin gold chain with a small pendant of gold and diamonds, possibly fake, to break and fall to the ground, The man walked away seemingly indifferent to leaving his necklace. I picked it up and looked at the pieces for a moment. Then, I noticed a group of five or six young white women were sitting on some steps appearing somewhat dejected. Intuitively I knew they were sad because they couldn't afford to go shopping for luxury items. I approached them and said something to that effect and then offered to give each of them money to go shopping if they helped me find my car. They seemed responsive to the offer at which time I awoke.

MY NBA fixation

 I'm making a separate entry about NBA basketball. I followed the playoffs supporting the Milwaukee Bucks because of my favorite player, Jrue Holiday, who was traded from the Pelicans last summer. He turned out to be the "missing piece" the Bucks needed as they made it to the Finals and beat the Phoenix Suns in six games. Two days later, Jrue and Khris Middleton along with Devin Booker of the Suns flew to Tokyo to join the US Olympic Men's Team. Team USA had gotten off to a shaky start while the Finals were still in progress, losing exhibition games to Nigeria and Australia before beating Spain. Bradley Beal, a scoring star, tested positive for COVID and had to drop out before the team flew out. Veteran Kevin Love quit at the same time, citing a nagging injury. Going into action as soon as the 3 finalists arrived, jetlagged from their long flight together, Team USA lost their first game to France. They then went on to win four straight earning a rematch with France in the Gold Medal game. This they won. My Bucks guys experienced the height of success, an NBA championship and Olympic Gold Medal, in a three week period. I realize it's all a series of games but it was satisfying. I've spent considerable waking time through these series and up until today reading articles, watching videos and viewing the games themselves. It's been a bit of an obsession. So, what's it about?  

I'll make a quick statement or two and perhaps come back to edit and expand on my thoughts. I admire the skills, dedication, determination and the character of my favorite players including the stars of the Olympic team- Kevin Druant, Draymond Green, Jrue, Khris, Book, Bam, Jason Tatum, Zach LaVine and Damian Lillard. I watched a five part Peacock documentary "For Ball and Country" that showed the pressure and urgency of the brief period the team had to get organized and compete under Coaches Gregg Popovitch, Steve Kerr, Lloyd Price and James Wright. The players were motivated to represent the USA and to succeed. They exuded camaraderie and respect for one another, the coaches and their opponents. Prior to the Olympics I saw the same things in the Bucks. Both teams, players and coaches, came under intense scrutiny and criticism and both answered by winning and achieving their highest goals. They inspired me.

Those recurring dream themes

I remember parts of a dream or perhaps several related dreams. I will reconstruct it as one story. 

I'm visiting Athens and sleeping on a bed in the basement of our old house. I need to catch a flight back to Baton Rouge and realize it's too late for me to get to Atlanta on time. I wonder if I can move my reservation to a later flight. I speak to Mom on the phone. She is in a care facility. I ask if she's OK and she says, "Yes, I'm just waiting for the next vegetable (!)." I ask if she's watching TV and she says she is. I realize the house has been sold to a woman who has a house next door. I'm thinking I need to leave before someone discovers me and I get in trouble for trespassing; but, it seems as if family possessions including a guitar case (presumably with a guitar inside) are still in the house and need to be moved out. I then notice the wall of the house toward what would be the Massey's side is just a partition with openings to another set of rooms like an adjacent house and a number of people are looking at me with curiosity through the apertures. These include a family group and two older black women.  They don't seem angry or alarmed, just curious. I want to extricate myself from this awkward situation.

The dream feels fraught with meaning. My initial thoughts are I'm living in a past where I no longer belong but feel attached to. I have unfinished business that needs to be completed so I can move on. "Forgive us our trespasses." Do I need to resolve guilt about something? I can think of several things- feeling I let me parents down with some of my actions, taking advantage of certain girls sexually during my youth (for the record, it was all consensual). These are things from long ago and I have made amends for them to those concerned. They've all forgiven me and I've affirmed them while they were alive (which some still are). They all appreciated it and still loved me. I do feel stuck. I need to deal with all the family possessions that have come under my curatorship. I do want to move forward. I'm well aware of my mortality and no one knows how much time he has.