It's Still Glock'n Roll to Me

So recently I've been wanting to get back into singing and songwriting, and more over, to actually perform. My dilemma has been that I'm slow with guitar. There's no way I'd be able to get up on a stage and play while trying to sing. It's torture that I wouldn't want to put anyone through, and I'm thinking of myself when I say that. I tried learning piano keyboard last semester. Didn't do too bad but I really want something simple and also easy to cart around for open mics since I'm solo on this.
I don't know how it came to me but it did. Why not glockenspiel? You don't see that too often. The more I think about it the more it makes sense. I looked online and found a small, cheap, portable one that has good reviews on sound. Hmm, this might actually work. I can already hear the light echos of chimes ringing in the background as I rock out. Or should I say glock out. That's the other thing. The plethora of sayings I could use are endless: Glock'n Roll, Glock Rock, I'm gonna rock out with my glock out, let me glock you baby, and so on and so forth (for any of you tempted to nab my little gem phrases, I'm already in the process of copyrighting them so don't bother!)
That's it. I'm making the purchase. Soon you'll hear me talk about glock music.

To Pick or Not To Pick

It was the last leg of my flight home to SD from my PacNorWest outing. I sat by the window watching for my suitcase. I'd barely made the flight and was told there was a possibility my luggage wouldn't make it on time and would have to be sent on the next flight. Distracted by the girl in the process of sitting in the aisle seat, I weighed the probability of the middle seat staying vacant. Looking good. Sometime later, in an aisle across from us I noticed a cute guy. Luckily my aisle mate was quite robust so I used her as a shield for my spying. Hmm, he was looking better and better. Then it happened. He went in for the dig. I couldn't believe it. Right there in the middle of a nearly full airplane, he picked his nose. I sat back in disbelief, then I had to look again to make sure I saw what I thought I saw. Oh! Now he was on to the other side! And these weren't discreet mining ventures, no. These were full on excavations. Everybody picks, it's an unspoken given. But most people do it in privacy like a deep dark secret. My immediate thought was, he must be foreign. And that's not meant to be a 'dig' (pardon the pun) at foreigners. Through my travels I've noticed that Americans (like myself) tend to be way more uptight about bodily functions than people in other countries. I can only imagine the freedom from self-consciousness to be able to pluck away without worry. But would I still do it in public? Um, that's a resounding no.

Tour de Portland

Many friends have told me of the majestic wonders of Portland. So I decide to stop there on my way to grad school and one of my schoolmate's was generous enough to let me sojourn with her. It's been an interesting trip. Every area reminds of some other city whether it's Downtown Montreal, The Annex in Toronto, some streets in San Jose, or buildings in Chicago. It's certainly not lacking in art or friendliness. Get this, people actually slow down for pedestrians crossing the street. Crazy, huh?
I thought I'd share a bit of what I've seen. The first treat I encountered were the signs on the bus asking me to "Respect the Ride." We made up stories to follow the cartoon scenarios. Next was Powell's Bookstore. The place is huge, an entire building huge. While walking around I window shopped for more than just books. Not bad. They do have selection. I set about picking my favorite book titles. It was a tie between Gay Wicca and God's Middle Finger. I have GOT to film something here.
From there we wandered to different neighborhoods like NW 21st and 23rd Street. We stopped at a trendy thrift store where I had my first encounter with a purse that had a wedgy. From there we walked around and ate at Muu Muu's which was cool but had a strange semi-nautical-eclectic-but not over done theme to it. We also passed a person in what I'll assume was a cartoon like bear outfit, playing the guitar. Ahhhh, I love this town. FYI - they're now screening The Room (look it up).
On the way back we dropped into one of my favorite stores, Trader Joe's. I mention this because a friend of mine makes fun of me for how often I go there. While inside I notice a guy working the tasty samples booth. Man did he look familiar, like I've seen him at one of the stores back home. I'm too embarrassed to ask so we continue shopping. We come back to the booth as he's closing and I finally ask. Turns out he worked not at the store in Hillcrest like I thought but at the one in Escondido that I went to while he worked there. Hmm, maybe I do go to Trader Joe's too much.
Today was dedicated to getting with old friends. I had breakfast with a buddy from high school at Bertie Lou's Cafe which served the 'best mediocre breakfast' in Portland. It was nice to catch up and hearing of her adventures. Later I was back in downtown with my schoolmate picking up a journal at the art store. We ran into another person from school in pleasant wonderment. Later I met with friends from undergrad. We realized how old we're getting as we reminisced about the fun days. Sigh.
Though a short trip, it's been charming and full of delightful surprises. I will be back Portland.

I'll Have the Child Hamburger

Yesterday, one of my friends was celebrating her birthday at a fine Mexican restaurant in lovely Old Town. As we scanned the menu for our meal choices, we came across the option of a Child Hamburger. We were taken aback by this. Not only did they offer a hamburger made from child but they had a photo of a child similar to the one you'd receive in your meal.
We were curious about this selection that sounded repulsive and yet somewhat appetizing. We inquired with our server and she told us that the meat was grade A, free range and organic. They didn't use invitro children. Hmm, good to know. When we mentioned the oddness of the menu item she quickly assured us that it was actually quite a delicacy and served primarily at 4 star restaurants.
I'm sure you're asking yourself, "But where do you get the children?" We wondered the same thing. But do you really care? If it's that tasty do you really want to know? In fact no one actually does know.
According to our waitress, there's speculation they only use children that are delinquents. It helps lower the costs of juvenile facilities. There's also rumor that the higher end restaurants consider child hamburger made from celebrity children quite the bonne bouche. They prepare it using methods from Escoffier's lost cookbook on, you guessed it, cooking children.
After all this we were ready to order hamburger d'enfant but as chance would have it, they were clean out. Damn. Next time.

Going For a Ride

The other day I was headed southbound on the 15, tra-la-laing to myself (as in singing and in no way related to this) when in my rearview mirror I noticed a man riding a motorcycle. The fact that he was riding a motorcycle was nothing of interest but the fact that he was riding a motorcycle wearing a marigold silk shirt, brown plaid shorts and no shoes caught me as peculiar. Now that I'm thinking about it, he may not have been wearing a helmet, but perhaps he was as it's law in CA. Well, back to his clothes and lack of footwear, I couldn't help but think "Hmm, maybe there's a reason he's dressed that way. Oooo! Maybe there's some crazy story à la The Hangover!?" I considered waving him down off the freeway and shaking it out of him, but I had an engagement to get to. Instead I came up with a story for him. So here for your entertainment I've posted the abridged version of Will's Weekend.
There was no doubt about it. Will was fully engrossed in a zombie state induced by excessive overtime at 'We Suck the Life out of You' mortgage company. In a plea for him to rejoin the living by his friend Marcus, Will departed to San Diego for a nice weekend getaway. At first the pair were enjoying the many choice establishments America's finest city had to offer, including the women. But like any story, when things are going so right, something has to go so wrong.
Her name was Talulah. You'd think a name like that would be warning enough, but apparently these 'in the moment' men weren't thinking far enough ahead. The trio met at the Del Mar Racetrack. She bumped into Will in that "Oh I'm so sensual and you want me" way people do in really bad movies. He smiled but for the last time this weekend. From there seriously crazy stuff happened involving stealing cars, loosing clothes, being drugged, memory loss, witty dialogue, some kind of sex because that has to be in there somewhere even if it's off screen, and life changes (hey I said this was the abridged version).
Shoeless on a motorcycle, Will headed southbound on the 15 towards the airport, towards his way back to his simple life. His frantic mind paused momentarily as he noticed a cute girl driving alongside him, looking at him quizzically. He grinned and rolled on.
The End!