I think our songwriter nights are drawing to a close at the Gearins hotel. Turning it into a backpackers palace or so I hear.
We get a half dozen performers on a monthly Monday night and it can’t be worthwhile keeping the bar open but - then again - it’s never been much different.
From my point of view, it’s never been about audience but always about the challenge of getting up and playing. It is a challenge both to my heart and to my technical ability. Thankfully heart matters more.
I don’t write many songs - one or two a year at most - and quite what to play has always slightly puzzled me. I don’t have new songs to display so do I stick to what comes easy and what works for others?
The sum is greater than the parts and over the years I’ve been doing this, the greatest joy has come from having other musicians join me and add their energy to the mix. Sometimes it’s startlingly good and so it was last night.
Apart from us local yokels and a couple who wandered in from the winter cold, our valiant song writing society president is the only other body in the place. He makes the two hundred kilometre round trip to add encouragement and leave me amazed at his dedication.
Winter arrives with a blast and audience numbers aren’t likely to increase. We’ve moved venue a few times in the last five years - usually with no obvious reason other than the passing whim of the owner of the venue concerned. I’ll mourn the passing if this gig has run its course. It’s just up the road.
‘Don’t give up your day job’ was very sound advice. Not given because what I have to offer has no value but more because there’s a desperation inherent - unless you’ve plenty of resources - in allowing yourself to be put into a situation where ‘No’ is no longer a musical option ..... even if it’s the correct option ..... you need the money.
Let’s see .... living in the lucky country ..... lucky to have a part time job and basic mathematics reminds me that four bills still don’t divide very well into one paycheck.
Been fighting my addiction with smoking for awhile. Made real progress then faltered. Done this before and will do it again. It’s hard enough to ‘do something’ - to ‘not do something’ is a weird one.
You have to do something with a moment which would otherwise be smoke filled. Apart from making a decision and sticking with it - or so my advisor ruminates - best way to give up something bad is to do something good. I maintain my six rounds of ‘Salute to the Sun.’ with a slightly grim, daily determination.
None of this is a whinge or a complaint. I am where I am and I’ve a lot of shifts at the Group Home coming up. The men with whom I work are considered very intellectually disabled - which they are but that’s not what they are nor who they are nor how they are.
Thankfully for me, they live very much in the moment and while they can care for most of their basic wants and needs, they aren’t ‘bright’ enough to wear a mask.
Here’s what I mean by that. The bloke for whom I’m ‘key worker’ is the most enthusiastic and cheerful man I know. A bit of a withered arm and a gammy leg, combined with poor eyesight yet he bounces out of bed each day with delight. ‘Good for him.’ you might say.
That’s not the point. He doesn’t wear a mask. He doesn’t know how to put one on. He blooms when praised and visibly wilts under criticism. It’s right there before my eyes so if a mistake or problem occurs, it has to be dealt with and finished with before ‘wilt’ changes visibly into ‘blossom.’ It’s a wonder to behold. If it’s true for someone who doesn’t wear a mask, it makes sense to me that it’s true elsewhere.
By nine thirty at night, my back is tiring from the up and down, on my knees, stretch here and there .... and my vertebrae make noises but they’re good noises. It’s the ‘Salutes to the sun’ freeing up that which is tight, that which I’ve neglected.
I think I’m writing this for those in wheelchairs or without limbs or with chronic back pain who would see my ability to physically do these things as ‘ you’re a fortunate man.’ and I am.