music: makes the people...

[orgasmosis]

Tuesday night i went to Smith's Olde Bar in downtown Atlanta (right across the street from Ansley Mall and GAY central). I discovered some new singers/songwriters from the area. Khale Davis coordinated the "Songsmiths Workshop" and he played a few self-written songs himself. His were simple songs, in content and form, but he was so inetentional. He sang a comedic song about a waitress who dressed as a clown for kids' birthday parties (which turned him on) and another about working in a bar and what people you find there. Number 99 was young and vibrant and a little jaded from his experience, but snub him not. His music, being insightful and melancholy without the "woe to me" bullshit, he spewed poetry without a hint of self-consciousness. He had a firm sense of melody to accompany his telling-songs: a very good match. Robbie Robberson was less introspective and less angry, but no less passionate. He was originally a heavy metallist who was mentored early on into a songwriter niche. He had a refined way of constructing his songs to hold your attention, but not choke it. His references were observational rather than personal which left me with feelings of interest and agreement, and his focus of chord structure was definitely refined. Michael Levine impressed me the most throughout the evening. He began the evening - a thin, bald, young man with glasses and a beaky nose. He smiled a lot and seemed kind of awkward moving about the room while setting up his equipment. Once he began i could not give my attention anywhere else. He used technology which allowed him to track-on-track playback. Let me explain. He made a simple rhythm on his guitar and it continued to play without him, then he added a simple chord progression or two as a base. Then playing a melodic solo line he created a whole living piece of music you couldn't believe you were hearing from an "acoustic" venue. (*Note* Though the performances were in fact acoustic, they did utilise a PA system and amplifiers for instruments/vocals) His lyrics were as poetic as his music: "I'm driving, trying to control all the cars on the highway, unable to control my own way." I connected with him. In his performance was his soul so evident and unashamed, there, as natural as flowers in the spring. Needless to say i accosted him after his set and put myself on his mailing list.

Mama bought a clarinet for $30. It needs new pads for the finger-holes (don't go there) which she can do herself. When she picked it up and walked out the door of the Music-Go-Round in Lilburn, on L'ville Hwy. (incidentally where Robbie Robberson works), she grinned wide in that way that only she can and seemed about a fourth of her age. I like seeing her happy. Even though she bugs the ever-loving shit out of me. It's love.

I'm at the last stage of dealing with the loss of my love life. Acceptance. I can, with an inner serenity, finally say "yes, i'm on my own and well, at least i don't have to worry about another present to buy at Christmas." Dating is just never a good idea. Anyone who tells you otherwise... Find the nearest cast-iron skillet and get creative. If a person says that he doesn't like to read, take that as a subtle hint from the universe that this schlameil is no prize-winner. And if you need further proof of his unqualifications, be sure to ask him how he feels about women. If he voices any sort of disgust at being in the vacinity of a lesbian bar (where your mother works, whom he knows) - head for the hills! He ain't it, girl!