I'm trying to load some overlaid guitar riffs from my old friend, Mike Romanyszyn. I haven't been able to upload it correctly yet, but I'll keep at it, here and in the right column under "Original Music." Here's another one of mine called Silverbird.
I have been talking over Christmas with Deb, presents and such. We're limiting gifts for each other this year to $20 bucks. Same for the kids. We can't do a big Christmas like we usually do, just can't afford it this time. Usually we go way overboard, $200 per kid, nice things for each other, lots of extra clothes, sweaters for everyone. The tree has always been piled high with an almost obscene amount of presents. This year no. Maybe next year when we're out of this monetary black hole we can go back to the overload. Or maybe we'll discover that all that is sort of superfulous after all.
We have lots to be thankful for this year (with Thanksgiving next week). Everyone in our family/extended family is well. None of our kids are strung out or in jail. They love us dearly and we love them. We continue to grow in our understanding and respect for ourselves and each other. We are making it through a pretty rough time (not just the money) and neither of us is giving up on the other. We'll come out on the other end stronger for what we're going through.
Meanwhile Deb has lost 25 lbs and I've lost 10! She looks great and all the guys at her job are flirting with her...I'd better watch my step.
Played a 20 year old Yari with great sound and nice Mother of Pearl inlay on side binding seams and around the sound hole, herringbone inlay on the split rosewood back. It's a steal at $550! Maybe I can get my friend Dale to buy it and hold it for me for a while. You know, I'm a firm believer of the patron system, some one with more money than talent helping a struggling artist financially. The artist in turn devotes his art to the patron, ie writing songs for them, performing for their friends. Hello, are you out there?
I remember the first time I threw a live hand grenade. I was terrified. Explosions were going off every 15 seconds around me, terrific explosions that shook the ground. The Sergeant had prepped us with stories of the young recruit who had mishandled one and not thrown it over the 8 ft. log wall which protected us from the blast. How an ever vigilant drill instructor had jumped on the grenade, belly down and saved the platoon from instant death. Of course, his insides were blown out with a muffled boom...I can still hear the sound that I imagined.
Standing in line that day, everyone was scared. Three weeks ago we were kissing our Moms bye and saying how we would be ok. That we'd mak'em proud. Now we were afraid. Afraid what it would look like when the newspapers told the story of the raw recruit who blew up his friends while in training. But most of all afraid of dying.
Then suddenly I was at the front of the line then I stepped up and they handed me this thing and it was really heavy to be so small it fit right in the palm of my hand and I pulled on the ring just like they told me and some one yelled throw and I did and then all 220 lbs of US Army Drill Instructor threw me to the ground and fell on top of me and then there was this awful gut wrenching explosion and my face pushed into the black dirt of Fort Jackson, South Carolina and then someone pulled me up and someone yelled "Next!"
:: Tom 1:16 PM [+] ::
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