Hello all, I am in St Louis, at a laundromat, where the Tide dispenser, after eating two of my hard earned dollars, refused to give me any Tide.  Fortunately, a kind St. Louis soul walked in at that very moment, and offered to let me use their detergent.  Unfortunately, I left an herbal supplement in the coin pocket of a pair of my pants, and my trousers now smell like a cat piss distillery.  Also, never, ever, under any circumstances, stay at an Econo Lodge.  Upon arrival at the front desk, I asked the disgruntled man on staff for a non- smoking room.  He proceeded to give me a key to a room that when entered, immediately gave off an aroma akin to that of the Atlanta Airport Smoker's lounge.  When I returned to the front desk to complain, he then gave me a key to another room.  as I lie down on my bed in the new room to finally get a good nights sleep,  I am startled awake by the pungent smell of urine wafting subtly from my mattress, and up through the sheets to my unsuspecting nose hairs.  Flabbergasted, but too tired to protest any longer, I ride the night out in this hell hole.  The next morning, I ask the clerk for a refund, and he offers a measly 10% discount.  Any hew, Things are great today.  I went for a four mile run and saw the Budweiser Clydesdale horses in their Natural habitat, went for a swim in the pool, and had a mimosa.  Now I'm off to practice.  Cheers from the road,

Bobby

Good morning.  After reading the first three chapters of Steve Job's biography, and after some nudging from my good friends, I have been inspired to become a more active member of the cyber community.  I am now on Twitter, Instagram, and blogspot. As Timothy Leary would put it, I have decided to "Turn on, boot up, jack in."

Finding new inspiration

  About six months ago, I had jaw surgery.  After surgery, I was in a great deal of pain, and had my jaw wired shut for two months.  This blog was formed  out of a need to express myself while having my jaw clamped shut, and was perpetuated by my  unlimited access to oxycodine.  Currently,  my mouth is no longer clamped, and the pain has subsided,  and thus I no longer have the crutch of mind numbing elixirs, or the necessity of writing as a primary form of expression.  Whats worse, as I was recovering from surgery and coming out of a two month long sizzurb fog, I began to get the feeling that my blog was the subject of much criticism.  I allowed this to stop me from writing.  No more.  I am  back, and I hope that in my blog you find from time to time something that resonates with you.  If not, cest la vie.

It's been a while.

Hello, if anyone is out there.  It's been awhile. I do not have much to write about,  but I am going to stick with this blog for posterity's sake.  Here is a photo of the first Merritt's old time jam.  It happens every Saturday.   Call 9199424897 for more info.

Sprout Wings and Fly (1983)

If only this style of music was still appreciated. You cant get much more purity than this.

As I was saying.

Ok.  Back to my post about the journey towards musical enlightenment.  I had been playing music for a very long time with the idea in mind that I should let my fingers play the notes that came to them, without thinking about what I was playing.  I also thought it unacceptable to pre-meditate an interesting  melody in my head, prior to expressing it sonically for others to hear.  I got this musical paradigm, I think, from some jazz book that said you should practice practice practice, and then forget everything you learned.  My problem, was that for the past 6 or 7 years, I have been forgetting everything I learned, and also conveniently forgetting the practice, practice, practice aspect of this simple musical equation.  Now that I have begun to practice again, I find melodies forming inside my head well before it is time for me to play them, which gives me the chance to actually enjoy what I am playing.  There is a very similar phenomenon, (if you can call it that) in the game of chess, where it is very desirable to be at the very least one to three  moves ahead of your opponent;  in my situation with music, there is a three-way chess game  going on between very ancient foes.  They are as follows:  my old, unpracticed self ( who wants to play an unrehearsed stream of continuousness style), my new, well rehearsed, one step ahead self, and finally,  the actual song that I am playing.  But, as with chess, music, and most everything else in life that really matters,  it's not about who wins, but how you play the game.

Flatt & Scruggs / Blue Ridge Cabin Home

Bluegrass back when it was still bluegrass.