I sure as heck don't have all of the answers, but a day after I bowled a 77 - no typo; I had no marks the whole game - as one of my six games, I went back to the alley and bowled a 520 series. 205-132-183. In the my first game, I had six strikes in the first seven frames. Missed some spares in the second game, but got on a roll the last game, picking up five in a row when I couldn't get a strike.
I had 13 strikes, nine spares and eight open frames. Of the three, the strikes being most abundant and the open frames being least isn't common. It never happens, actually.
So how? Two things. One, I abandoned the slide, planting my fifth step. I might back off from that, as Dave said that planting can lead to knee issues. Next time I bowl, I'll see how jarring the plant is.
Two, I changed my right-hand philosophy. Dave once did something with his hand but didn't expound on it, and I gave it a try with great results. I don't need to think about turning my wrist anymore; it comes naturally. But I think about holding the ball close to my inner forearm, with wrist curved inwards, and then right before I'm to turn my hand and release the ball, I straighten out my wrist. Band it back away from my inner forearm. Doing that right before (or maybe during) the wrist turn and release had an awesome effect. It put a 45-degree revolution on the ball AND it angled the revolutions towards the pins. If you were VERY tall and watching the path of my ball from where I stand, it would appear as if the ball was turned clockwise on its axis a little bit.
This turn actually made the ball accelerate toward the pins, once it got to the drier spot of the lane (the last twenty feet).
And I was more accurate in hitting the pocket. Well, I still tend to curl my arm a bit, making the ball hit the left of the headpin. The other day, no matter what I did, the ball went for the 4-pin. Yesterday, when I missed, it usually hit the 1-2 pocket instead, and I was getting great pin action.
Anyway, remember. Curl your wrist inwards, then let it go just as your turning your wrist and delivering the ball. Not a tremendous amount of break, but that's likely due to the drilling of my ball.
I bowled that first game in all of seven minutes. Good thing I get a lot of free games out of my one-man league.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
First time ever
It won't change the world, but it's something I've always wanted to do, and that is to spin a pencil around my thumb. Thanks to a YouTube video and at least 150 attempts, I got it done. I'm too scared to try again. I wanted to end on a make.
So there. Also, I wrote a song for the band. It's not the first song I ever wrote, but it's the first song I wrote for Ted From Accounting that I had the guts to show them. When talking to my wife about the bologna we're being handed by the manager at the Beacon Tap, she said "Ted Gets No Respect," and it had nice rhythm in my head. I pictured it having a Bo Diddley beat in E-minor, similar to Thorogood's "Who Do You Love." I put more chords in my song, of course, and the band played it last night in practice. Yeah, 12 verses is too long, but I'm proud of every one of them so it'll be hard to make the song shorter. I guess it's more of a poem than a song. But anyway, here it is. And if you see (TGNR), that simply means "Ted Gets No Respect." Words in parenthese on the right side of each line are meant for other band members to chant as a chorus.
So there. Also, I wrote a song for the band. It's not the first song I ever wrote, but it's the first song I wrote for Ted From Accounting that I had the guts to show them. When talking to my wife about the bologna we're being handed by the manager at the Beacon Tap, she said "Ted Gets No Respect," and it had nice rhythm in my head. I pictured it having a Bo Diddley beat in E-minor, similar to Thorogood's "Who Do You Love." I put more chords in my song, of course, and the band played it last night in practice. Yeah, 12 verses is too long, but I'm proud of every one of them so it'll be hard to make the song shorter. I guess it's more of a poem than a song. But anyway, here it is. And if you see (TGNR), that simply means "Ted Gets No Respect." Words in parenthese on the right side of each line are meant for other band members to chant as a chorus.
Ted Gets No Respect - Dave Stapleton
V1: Look at everyone out there, (Ted Gets No Respect)
But the manager don’t care. (Ted Gets No Respect)
Though they pack her bar when they play,
She won’t give ‘em the time of day,
And now she’s taken their gig away. (Ted Gets No Respect)
V2: Got shoved in the back of the place; (TGNR)
“Well, the bag-tossers needed space.” (TGNR)
A cover charge was all they’re making,
But not a fin was the door guy taking,
While the boss and bartenders were raking. (Ted Got No Respect)
V3: Two bits were they getting paid, (TGNR)
But they tried to squeeze lemonade. (TGNR)
“There’s ninety fans jammin’ in here,
And their love for our music is clear,
But now they want us to pay for our beer?” (Ted Felt Disrespect)
V4: The patience had worn thin, (TGNR)
Getting hard to find joints to play in. (TGNR)
So they spoke to an owner at hand
Asking why, with so rockin’ a band
Few would make the space for their stands. (Ted Wants Some Respect)
V5: “There’s no doubt our girl can sing (TGNR)
And our lead guitarist is king (TGNR)
The rhythm guy writes catchy tunes
While the bassman pumps up the room
And the drummer’s chick sets up his boom...” (but TGNR)
V6: “You don’t have the look,” they said, (TGNR)
“Too much/little hair on your heads. (TGNR)
Sure, your sound’s a definite rave -
truth be told, it’s my personal fave -
But it’s hooters and pecs that they crave.” (Ted Can’t Get Respect)
V7: The band steered clear of the Tap, (TGNR)
and Tried to see their way through the crap. (TGNR)
Did a message just come from above?
Should they set free that which they love?
Or clench fists if push comes to shove? (Ted Demands Respect)
V8: “If they want symbols of youth, (TGNR)
There’s no way to disguise the truth. (TGNR)
there’s Nothing wrong with coming of age -
It’s a joy when you’re at that stage -
But long ago we all turned the page.” (Ted Once Had Respect)
V9: “Should we ask the fans what they think? (TGNR)
Do they come for more than a drink? (TGNR)
They hit the floor when we play a song,
When we jump, they all jump along.
But are we going at it all wrong?” (Will Ted Find Respect?)
V10: “We could sing about our lives, (TGNR)
‘Bout our husbands and our wives. (TGNR)
‘bout the mortgage being past due,
‘bout the backpain feeling too true.
‘bout the jobs we loved that we lost,
‘bout the money those braces will cost.
‘bout the lawnmowers starting at eight
when we shouldn’t have stayed up so late.
‘bout the stuff we do when we’re bored,
‘bout the payments we can’t afford.
‘bout the struggle to try to get through
when your children won’t listen to you.
Is that what they want us to do?” (Will Ted Feel Respect?)
V11: songWriters struggle with these: (TGNR)
To enlighten or to appease. (TGNR)
The best music’s finding one’s soul,
but The industry’s mining for gold,
and We all end up choking on coal. (Ted Deserves Respect)
V12: Next time, show ‘em you care, (Ted Just Wants Respect)
And let ‘em know if you’re aware (Ted Needs Your Respect)
When they get to tuning their strings
And shout out the message they sing,
‘cause to them, it means everything! (but Ted Gets No Respect.)
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Loss
Margie stumbled upon it this morning, though she normally doesn't go through the obituaries. But she said "Oh My God," read it quickly, then handed it to me.
Paul died of colon cancer on Friday. He was 52.
Over the course of my lifetime, he was probably one of the top 12 friends I've ever had. It was likely the most explosive friendship, with him cutting off communication with me on three different occasions. But he became my best friend at the radio station, helped me as a struggling guitarist, and made it possible for us to have a killer band at our wedding reception. He sang on "I Will," our first dance that night. There are a lot of good memories with Paul, as he was a kind person, but he could also turn on a dime, depending on his mental state.
I'll talk more about him later in a good light, because kind memories should be kept in mind. We were no longer speaking, once again because he misunderstood me. I could've argued with him over it, but once it was apparent that my aggression would've been counterproductive to his recovery, I said good-bye. But I really wanted to see him again. Not in a casket, which is how I'll see him on Tuesday.
Michael, Cyrus, Joe, Grady, Chris, Brett, Roger, Zim (maybe), Bryant, Scott, Adam, Paul, Digger, Margie, Glenn. These are the names of the people that were great friends of mine at some point.
Michael Haettenschweiler lived next door when I was very young, and I remember calling his house but getting in trouble for doing it. His dad wore sandals when no one else did. They moved to Europe.
Cyrus Rivetna lived a block away, and he and I were best friends for four years or so. Steve Carlson talked him into no longer being my friend. (Steve is extremely successful now, something I wish I had never discovered.) Cyrus accepted by Facebook friend request months ago but we have yet to speak a word to each other. From what I gather, Cyrus is an architect and single and lives in Chicago.
Joe Richard was also a good friend of mine, from grades 3-8, but it faded during the high school years because we went to different schools. He was not a great student, but was funny and we got along very well, somehow. We did contact each other a year ago or so. He's married and childless, I think, and we e-mailed a desire to have a double date, but that's gone nowhere.
Grady Zuver and I had an on-again, off-again friendship when we lived in the same subdivision, but were great friends during our high school years. Then we had a falling out during college and didn't speak again until shortly before my wedding, which he and his Irish wife attended. He now has one or two kids and lives downstate. I don't think we'll see each other again, though I hope I'm wrong.
Chris Curtin was brought over to my new house by his mom, as they lived three doors down. We've been great friends since. Chris was my best man, and I don't know if I'll be his, but I hope to find out someday. Kip (as I call him) lives about 15 minutes away and comes over occasionally for fun with my wife and I, as they get along very well. But not too well.
Brett Ratner was a "cool kid" in my mind, and thanks to his need for math help and our combined love of music, we became good friends. It faded during college. We reunited for one night in 1999, when he came to my girlfriend's party. We split up the next week; he started dating her the day after that. Didn't speak to him again until a year ago, but have had a few lunches with him and hope to continue some sort of contact with him, though I feel that it's currently strained for some reason. Brett's divorced with no kids and lives in Chicago.
For a football player, Roger Sewell was a guy with surprising intelligence and extremely funny, and apart from the May fight we'd have for three consecutive years, we got along quite well. He married his college girlfriend and has two children, living close by. But we don't get together, as much as I'd like. I don't speak with most of them anymore, but one always leaves the door open to rekindle a friendship. Scott and Paul's windows are now closed forever.
Zim (David Zimmerman) was never a great friend but a good acquaintance, as a roommate and math classmate in college. Not a lot of depth or loyalty with him, however, and he had no qualms about dating my college girlfriend Pam as soon as she was done with me. He's married (though not to Pam) with at least one kid, and I think he has a doctorate degree. Another reminder of how everyone around me has done better than me, or so it feels way too often.I have absolutely no desire to speak with Zim again.
Bryant Toby was ten years older than me but still in my Freshman Orientation class in college, and I've always been able to listen to him for hours. A real thinker, I've enjoyed great discussions from him every so often since I was half this age. He married his college girlfriend and has one son, and lives in a very far suburb. Though he did come see my band a while back, we talk just enough to stay in touch, but never enough to be good friends again.
Scott was the weird-looking guy that somehow got all the girls. He dropped out of high school, was in prison, and would swallow the chaw run-off when necessary. Strange friends we were, but he helped me find my wild side. He took me out for my 21st. He loved to say "I'll sleep when I'm dead." Our friendship ended when he re-formed our softball team, but without me on it. The last time I saw him, he was working at a liquor store, overweight and out of shape, with skin that looked as if he had continued to drink his tobacco remains. Scott died of a massive heart attack in 2003 or 2004. He didn't make it to 35.
Adam was a twin of a better high school friend of mine, John. While John, Doug and Chris would play sports with me, Adam would play computer and fantasy games. But we became better friends in our twenties and he stood at my wedding, but our friendship faded once he married and had a son. He lives in Batavia, where we all went to high school, but can't find the time to get together, unless we're willing to go there to a party when dozens of kids (or so it feels) are running around.
I've discussed Paul already. We spent too much time together in the '90s to not have him listed here. For what it's worth, Paul was in the band that played Adam's wedding reception, along with me, Paulito and Digger.
Digger's real name is Dave Gudjonis. I met him through Mensa and he deserves to be there. He's married with two beautiful girls, but a big part of him is still single. He's one of three guys who started playing bass because of my suggestion to do so. (Nathan MacDicken now plays bass in a rockabilly band in Pennsylvania. Dave Carr hopefully gave it up entirely.) Digger's still one of my closest friends, and when the phone rings, it's probably him.
Margie is my wife and probably the greatest friend I've ever had. I don't feel the need to sing her praises here because I spent a lot of my time doing just that. She lives very close to me and is married but has no children. Yet.
Glenn Bowden taught math at Fairfax High School with me, and though I barely knew him during my stressful first year of teaching, he gave me a Mattel Classic Football game out of the blue. We became better friends every year at Fairfax, went on a bunch of man-dates, and even played music together as Gulp before he moved to Tennessee, where his wife could get a job at the college level. They have two small children and are the best friends Margie and I have had as a couple. But apart from their visit last year, we rarely speak anymore. Of all the past friends, I probably miss Glenn the most. Why don't I call him to tell him that? Nothing can be done about it, that's why. He's 500 miles away and absorbed with his kids, and I don't like talking on the phone.
I've tried to reunite with lots of these people, and the results haven't been very good. Once a friend is gone, they're likely gone for good reasons and are likely gone forever. But I still like to think that all of them are reasonable happy and living.
It's hitting me now that Paul is really dead. Ironically, Paul had only one possession of mine: a book entitled "The Walrus Was Paul," which discussed the "Paul is Dead" conspiracy regarding the Beatles in the late '60s.
I'm at a loss how to end this entry. Who cares. Things don't have to end well. They end anyway.
Paul died of colon cancer on Friday. He was 52.
Over the course of my lifetime, he was probably one of the top 12 friends I've ever had. It was likely the most explosive friendship, with him cutting off communication with me on three different occasions. But he became my best friend at the radio station, helped me as a struggling guitarist, and made it possible for us to have a killer band at our wedding reception. He sang on "I Will," our first dance that night. There are a lot of good memories with Paul, as he was a kind person, but he could also turn on a dime, depending on his mental state.
I'll talk more about him later in a good light, because kind memories should be kept in mind. We were no longer speaking, once again because he misunderstood me. I could've argued with him over it, but once it was apparent that my aggression would've been counterproductive to his recovery, I said good-bye. But I really wanted to see him again. Not in a casket, which is how I'll see him on Tuesday.
Michael, Cyrus, Joe, Grady, Chris, Brett, Roger, Zim (maybe), Bryant, Scott, Adam, Paul, Digger, Margie, Glenn. These are the names of the people that were great friends of mine at some point.
Michael Haettenschweiler lived next door when I was very young, and I remember calling his house but getting in trouble for doing it. His dad wore sandals when no one else did. They moved to Europe.
Cyrus Rivetna lived a block away, and he and I were best friends for four years or so. Steve Carlson talked him into no longer being my friend. (Steve is extremely successful now, something I wish I had never discovered.) Cyrus accepted by Facebook friend request months ago but we have yet to speak a word to each other. From what I gather, Cyrus is an architect and single and lives in Chicago.
Joe Richard was also a good friend of mine, from grades 3-8, but it faded during the high school years because we went to different schools. He was not a great student, but was funny and we got along very well, somehow. We did contact each other a year ago or so. He's married and childless, I think, and we e-mailed a desire to have a double date, but that's gone nowhere.
Grady Zuver and I had an on-again, off-again friendship when we lived in the same subdivision, but were great friends during our high school years. Then we had a falling out during college and didn't speak again until shortly before my wedding, which he and his Irish wife attended. He now has one or two kids and lives downstate. I don't think we'll see each other again, though I hope I'm wrong.
Chris Curtin was brought over to my new house by his mom, as they lived three doors down. We've been great friends since. Chris was my best man, and I don't know if I'll be his, but I hope to find out someday. Kip (as I call him) lives about 15 minutes away and comes over occasionally for fun with my wife and I, as they get along very well. But not too well.
Brett Ratner was a "cool kid" in my mind, and thanks to his need for math help and our combined love of music, we became good friends. It faded during college. We reunited for one night in 1999, when he came to my girlfriend's party. We split up the next week; he started dating her the day after that. Didn't speak to him again until a year ago, but have had a few lunches with him and hope to continue some sort of contact with him, though I feel that it's currently strained for some reason. Brett's divorced with no kids and lives in Chicago.
For a football player, Roger Sewell was a guy with surprising intelligence and extremely funny, and apart from the May fight we'd have for three consecutive years, we got along quite well. He married his college girlfriend and has two children, living close by. But we don't get together, as much as I'd like. I don't speak with most of them anymore, but one always leaves the door open to rekindle a friendship. Scott and Paul's windows are now closed forever.
Zim (David Zimmerman) was never a great friend but a good acquaintance, as a roommate and math classmate in college. Not a lot of depth or loyalty with him, however, and he had no qualms about dating my college girlfriend Pam as soon as she was done with me. He's married (though not to Pam) with at least one kid, and I think he has a doctorate degree. Another reminder of how everyone around me has done better than me, or so it feels way too often.I have absolutely no desire to speak with Zim again.
Bryant Toby was ten years older than me but still in my Freshman Orientation class in college, and I've always been able to listen to him for hours. A real thinker, I've enjoyed great discussions from him every so often since I was half this age. He married his college girlfriend and has one son, and lives in a very far suburb. Though he did come see my band a while back, we talk just enough to stay in touch, but never enough to be good friends again.
Scott was the weird-looking guy that somehow got all the girls. He dropped out of high school, was in prison, and would swallow the chaw run-off when necessary. Strange friends we were, but he helped me find my wild side. He took me out for my 21st. He loved to say "I'll sleep when I'm dead." Our friendship ended when he re-formed our softball team, but without me on it. The last time I saw him, he was working at a liquor store, overweight and out of shape, with skin that looked as if he had continued to drink his tobacco remains. Scott died of a massive heart attack in 2003 or 2004. He didn't make it to 35.
Adam was a twin of a better high school friend of mine, John. While John, Doug and Chris would play sports with me, Adam would play computer and fantasy games. But we became better friends in our twenties and he stood at my wedding, but our friendship faded once he married and had a son. He lives in Batavia, where we all went to high school, but can't find the time to get together, unless we're willing to go there to a party when dozens of kids (or so it feels) are running around.
I've discussed Paul already. We spent too much time together in the '90s to not have him listed here. For what it's worth, Paul was in the band that played Adam's wedding reception, along with me, Paulito and Digger.
Digger's real name is Dave Gudjonis. I met him through Mensa and he deserves to be there. He's married with two beautiful girls, but a big part of him is still single. He's one of three guys who started playing bass because of my suggestion to do so. (Nathan MacDicken now plays bass in a rockabilly band in Pennsylvania. Dave Carr hopefully gave it up entirely.) Digger's still one of my closest friends, and when the phone rings, it's probably him.
Margie is my wife and probably the greatest friend I've ever had. I don't feel the need to sing her praises here because I spent a lot of my time doing just that. She lives very close to me and is married but has no children. Yet.
Glenn Bowden taught math at Fairfax High School with me, and though I barely knew him during my stressful first year of teaching, he gave me a Mattel Classic Football game out of the blue. We became better friends every year at Fairfax, went on a bunch of man-dates, and even played music together as Gulp before he moved to Tennessee, where his wife could get a job at the college level. They have two small children and are the best friends Margie and I have had as a couple. But apart from their visit last year, we rarely speak anymore. Of all the past friends, I probably miss Glenn the most. Why don't I call him to tell him that? Nothing can be done about it, that's why. He's 500 miles away and absorbed with his kids, and I don't like talking on the phone.
I've tried to reunite with lots of these people, and the results haven't been very good. Once a friend is gone, they're likely gone for good reasons and are likely gone forever. But I still like to think that all of them are reasonable happy and living.
It's hitting me now that Paul is really dead. Ironically, Paul had only one possession of mine: a book entitled "The Walrus Was Paul," which discussed the "Paul is Dead" conspiracy regarding the Beatles in the late '60s.
I'm at a loss how to end this entry. Who cares. Things don't have to end well. They end anyway.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Karma
I finally received my new bowling ball. It's a Karma (Pearl) from Brunswick, 15 pounds, green and blue with yellow finger grips installed.
Dave (the manager at the alley) and I went to Niles to get it drilled. He's a nice guy and even referred to me as his friend, and you know what? That's pretty cool. Good to be friends with someone that one was assigned to guard Derrick Rose. (That's another story, but since it's not mine, I won't tell it.)
Anyway, I bowled six games afterwards, and if you take out the first game of 115, I averaged 160 over the next five games. That's pretty damn good. A 160 average? Outstanding.
Plus, I figured out something halfway through my last game. If I intentionally keep my backswing short, I can really get a ton of revolutions on the ball. The first time I tried this, the ball was only a few boards away from going into the gutter, but it broke like mad and plowed down all ten pins. If only my thumb wasn't in bad shape, maybe I would've bowled even more, but a dozen games over two days is a lot of wear and tear.
So I'm posting this to remind myself: short backswing. Continue to slide with your fifth step. Keep the ball in front of you. (Translation: don't put spin on the ball until late in the follow-through, when the ball's nearly in front of you.)
If you can work on keeping your wrist bent forward, you can put a little more velocity on the ball while still getting the revolutions.
My footwork's been consistently good. The short backswing is keeping my arm on the correct plane more often. I think I might be able to get good at this after all!
A teenager was bowling down the lane. He's very good, but he bowls two-handed. Yep, he holds the ball with both hands during his approach, as if he's carrying a bag of rocks. I think cavemen would've bowled that way.
Speaking of, people use all five fingers to bowl" the thumb, middle and ring gingers go into the ball, while the index and pinky are there for stability and angle of holding. Knowing that, how in the hell was Fred Flintstone such a good bowler?
Dave (the manager at the alley) and I went to Niles to get it drilled. He's a nice guy and even referred to me as his friend, and you know what? That's pretty cool. Good to be friends with someone that one was assigned to guard Derrick Rose. (That's another story, but since it's not mine, I won't tell it.)
Anyway, I bowled six games afterwards, and if you take out the first game of 115, I averaged 160 over the next five games. That's pretty damn good. A 160 average? Outstanding.
Plus, I figured out something halfway through my last game. If I intentionally keep my backswing short, I can really get a ton of revolutions on the ball. The first time I tried this, the ball was only a few boards away from going into the gutter, but it broke like mad and plowed down all ten pins. If only my thumb wasn't in bad shape, maybe I would've bowled even more, but a dozen games over two days is a lot of wear and tear.
So I'm posting this to remind myself: short backswing. Continue to slide with your fifth step. Keep the ball in front of you. (Translation: don't put spin on the ball until late in the follow-through, when the ball's nearly in front of you.)
If you can work on keeping your wrist bent forward, you can put a little more velocity on the ball while still getting the revolutions.
My footwork's been consistently good. The short backswing is keeping my arm on the correct plane more often. I think I might be able to get good at this after all!
A teenager was bowling down the lane. He's very good, but he bowls two-handed. Yep, he holds the ball with both hands during his approach, as if he's carrying a bag of rocks. I think cavemen would've bowled that way.
Speaking of, people use all five fingers to bowl" the thumb, middle and ring gingers go into the ball, while the index and pinky are there for stability and angle of holding. Knowing that, how in the hell was Fred Flintstone such a good bowler?
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Other song choices
Okay, I went through the list and brainstormed a bit, and came up with the following song choices. These are songs I'd suggest to the band that we learn, with me on lead vocal (and drums, of course). Why? Because Digger suggested that I suggest songs other than "Valerie" by the Zutons, though I'm not exactly sure why.
1. "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden
2. "Drops of Jupiter" by Train
3. "Everybody Here Wants You" by Jeff Buckley
4. "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead
5. "Kayleigh" by Marillion
6. "Life is a Highway" by Tom Cochrane
7. "Orca" by Wintersleep
8. "White Room" by Cream
9. "Why Does It Always Rain on Me?" by Travis
These are in alphabetical order. Some are more highly desired than others. Here's a graph, outlining my feelings for each song, in comparison to how I think the rest of the band will feel about it. (Song 0 is "Valerie.")
As you can see, there's a negative correlation. What I like doesn't always match up to what the band likes. And this is only dealing with the songs I'm handpicking to offer the band. If I desperately wanted to cover something by Lynyrd Skynyrd or Journey, they'd be all over it. I also think that "From Both Sides Now" is one of the most beautiful songs ever written, but I don't see that one getting the rest of Ted fired up.
It's not that I actually hate any of the above songs, such as the two to the left of the graph, but either my heart isn't into them anymore or I think I do a better job playing them solo.I'm sure the band would get into raving up "Baby One More Time," but please, no.
If I decide to offer up all of these songs to the band, I'm guessing they'll pick either "White Room" or "Black Hole Sun" first, then look at "Life is a Highway." Are those my favorite choices? Absolutely not. If I were going for broke, I'd choose "Orca" and "Everybody Here Wants You" to join "Valerie." I did "White Room" years ago with a couple of high schoolers, as part of the school's talent show, so I don't feel the need to do it anymore. Unless I played guitar on it, which we already tried. But John couldn't cut get the drum part right. Damnit, why didn't I choose to play guitar when I had the chance?
If I want "Valerie" to be the choice, I have to choose two other songs that fall below it on the list. No way they'd consider "Orca" and "Why Does It Always Rain on Me?" for a second. Guess it has to be "Everybody Here Wants You" and "Fake Plastic Trees," neither of which are danceable in the least. (We're not a dance band, but Digger and Paulito get overly excited when anyone steps on the floor, as if that's our big measure of success.)
1. "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden
2. "Drops of Jupiter" by Train
3. "Everybody Here Wants You" by Jeff Buckley
4. "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead
5. "Kayleigh" by Marillion
6. "Life is a Highway" by Tom Cochrane
7. "Orca" by Wintersleep
8. "White Room" by Cream
9. "Why Does It Always Rain on Me?" by Travis
These are in alphabetical order. Some are more highly desired than others. Here's a graph, outlining my feelings for each song, in comparison to how I think the rest of the band will feel about it. (Song 0 is "Valerie.")
As you can see, there's a negative correlation. What I like doesn't always match up to what the band likes. And this is only dealing with the songs I'm handpicking to offer the band. If I desperately wanted to cover something by Lynyrd Skynyrd or Journey, they'd be all over it. I also think that "From Both Sides Now" is one of the most beautiful songs ever written, but I don't see that one getting the rest of Ted fired up.
It's not that I actually hate any of the above songs, such as the two to the left of the graph, but either my heart isn't into them anymore or I think I do a better job playing them solo.I'm sure the band would get into raving up "Baby One More Time," but please, no.
If I decide to offer up all of these songs to the band, I'm guessing they'll pick either "White Room" or "Black Hole Sun" first, then look at "Life is a Highway." Are those my favorite choices? Absolutely not. If I were going for broke, I'd choose "Orca" and "Everybody Here Wants You" to join "Valerie." I did "White Room" years ago with a couple of high schoolers, as part of the school's talent show, so I don't feel the need to do it anymore. Unless I played guitar on it, which we already tried. But John couldn't cut get the drum part right. Damnit, why didn't I choose to play guitar when I had the chance?
If I want "Valerie" to be the choice, I have to choose two other songs that fall below it on the list. No way they'd consider "Orca" and "Why Does It Always Rain on Me?" for a second. Guess it has to be "Everybody Here Wants You" and "Fake Plastic Trees," neither of which are danceable in the least. (We're not a dance band, but Digger and Paulito get overly excited when anyone steps on the floor, as if that's our big measure of success.)
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Song pushing
Digger told me that insisting the band learn one particular song - or else - is not a good idea. Does that mean that the band thinks that little about me? I'm very very tired of never getting any song choices. To prove my point, I asked him to name a song of my request that I sing since Eileen joined the band, a little less than two years ago. He could not come up with one, because there hasn't been one. ("Jenny" by Tommy Tutone could be, but I don't think that one was my idea, and if it was, it was only to keep me from singing "Jessie's Girl" every frickin' gig.)
So he suggested that I ask for three songs, and be happy with whatever gets picked. In other words, even though we do any song that members such as himself, Paulito and Eileen want to do, I don't get that opportunity. I have to offer up a choice of three. Do I put "Reptile," "No Time To Lose," "White Room," "The Way" and other choices of mine that went nowhere back in the mix?
The song I really want to do, else I'll consider leaving the band, is "Valerie" by the Zutons. It's certainly not a hard song. Four chords is all. There is a minor chord, but I'm sure John can figure it out. (He once commented on only wanting to play major chords, which prompted Eileen to start laughing at him.)
So I need two other songs, songs that I'd be overjoyed to do.
It's hard for me to imagine our band doing this one, but I'll suggest it anyway: "Orca" by Wintersleep.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2e2e3QU4ft0
When I come up with a third, I'll post it here.
Update: Margie thinks that my suggestions don't get anywhere, simply because other members of the band don't recognize them. Are we really just a jukebox band? Is that what I want? And if I'm willing to stomach such a band, will I be able to come up with two other songs that I like as much as "Valerie"? I'll look through my solo songbook to see if any jump out at me.
There's "Veronica" by Elvis Costello, a favorite of mine. But I don't think a full band version would be any better than my solo version. It'd likely be worse.
So he suggested that I ask for three songs, and be happy with whatever gets picked. In other words, even though we do any song that members such as himself, Paulito and Eileen want to do, I don't get that opportunity. I have to offer up a choice of three. Do I put "Reptile," "No Time To Lose," "White Room," "The Way" and other choices of mine that went nowhere back in the mix?
The song I really want to do, else I'll consider leaving the band, is "Valerie" by the Zutons. It's certainly not a hard song. Four chords is all. There is a minor chord, but I'm sure John can figure it out. (He once commented on only wanting to play major chords, which prompted Eileen to start laughing at him.)
So I need two other songs, songs that I'd be overjoyed to do.
It's hard for me to imagine our band doing this one, but I'll suggest it anyway: "Orca" by Wintersleep.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2e2e3QU4ft0
When I come up with a third, I'll post it here.
Update: Margie thinks that my suggestions don't get anywhere, simply because other members of the band don't recognize them. Are we really just a jukebox band? Is that what I want? And if I'm willing to stomach such a band, will I be able to come up with two other songs that I like as much as "Valerie"? I'll look through my solo songbook to see if any jump out at me.
There's "Veronica" by Elvis Costello, a favorite of mine. But I don't think a full band version would be any better than my solo version. It'd likely be worse.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Bowling alone
I joined a bowling league to meet new people. Yes, it was also to get better as a bowler, but I can do that during weekday afternoons, which I have done the last couple of months. A league offers camaraderie, competition, and conversation. Or so I hoped.
Tonight was my first league night. The place was very full. But in my league, I was the only participant.
It's called "Brunswick Ball League," in which participants get a new ball. Since my only ball is an old rubber thing with a suddenly-outdated grip for me, this league made sense. It's for people new to leagues, with tips offered by the manager.
Why was I the only person in this league? Bowling on two lanes by myself, while there are four others per lane everywhere else in the building, made me feel quite conspicuous. Bowling as crappily as I did made it an embarrassing night.
Either I'm getting at least one other person to start bowling with me, or I'm telling Dave (the manager) that we might as well do this during a weekday afternoon.
For the record, my first game didn't even break 100, and my high game (142) was lower than my average the last time I bowled (150). I still have a lot of inconsistencies to work out. Tonight was a culture shock for me, and I wished I had someone else to share that with.
Tonight was my first league night. The place was very full. But in my league, I was the only participant.
It's called "Brunswick Ball League," in which participants get a new ball. Since my only ball is an old rubber thing with a suddenly-outdated grip for me, this league made sense. It's for people new to leagues, with tips offered by the manager.
Why was I the only person in this league? Bowling on two lanes by myself, while there are four others per lane everywhere else in the building, made me feel quite conspicuous. Bowling as crappily as I did made it an embarrassing night.
Either I'm getting at least one other person to start bowling with me, or I'm telling Dave (the manager) that we might as well do this during a weekday afternoon.
For the record, my first game didn't even break 100, and my high game (142) was lower than my average the last time I bowled (150). I still have a lot of inconsistencies to work out. Tonight was a culture shock for me, and I wished I had someone else to share that with.
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