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[[groovy musics: ]]

8:55 a.m. // 05 July 2005

My Farfisa caught on fire yesterday during "Kick Out the Jams."

Actually, there were no flames, just a lot of smoke. It was near the end of a marathon three-hour Jackson 8 practice, in preparation for our show Wednesday. We have not played since February, but our friend Marshall wanted us to play for his 18th birthday. Apparently all anyone ever had to do was ask, because Nazli sealed the deal last week.

Also, we have a one-night-only garage-y rock band with me, Dwayne, David, Becca and Marshall. We have five songs, maybe six tonight, and we practiced for three hours yesterday, after my keyboard smoked.

My amp, too, is blown. That is also not good, because it's a loud Roland that's about the only thing that makes the Yamaha keyboard audible. I am not too surprised about the Farfisa organ dying -- I was afraid to play it when Dwayne first got it for me on eBay a few months ago, because it gave off an electrical-type smell. I had been keeping it at home to play mazurkas on. This was only the second real day of rock'n'roll practice that it had gone through. It's awesome to play, a cooler sound and more octaves for me.

Mid-song, smoke started pouring out one of the speaker holes, and I pulled the plug as fast as I could. The amp was buzzing, probably because the organ was sending a distress call, i.e. "I am dying," down the cable.

So anyway, Wednesday's show is gonna be fun.



I bought Dalton's old iMac (the desk-lamp-style model) off him last week, so now I have much improved computing power.

It is raining now, pouring down Houston-stylee. That is why yesterday's Fourth of July parade was canceled, and I was disappointed because I put the bug into Fishboy's head to join the parade. They had costumes of Denton landmarks for their CD release show last week: Morrison's Corn-Kits sign, the TWU tower, the Courthouse on the Square, the "cupboard," John B. Denton's grave, Beth Marie's, the Popo y Lupe hair salon sign, and the football from the cover of Necessary Roughness. (I would have insisted on a big purple Recycled Books.)

The costumes were sweet and the show was good. It's been a good weekend. Saturday was a house show for Televation and the Pterodactyls, a kind of farewell show for J.R. and Nikki, who just a few of the people flocking to NYC this summer. J.R. is among Jackson 8's Number One Fans, but mostly he's an amazing, crazy guitarist in his own right. Nikki is going to get her master's in music; J.R. is pursuing his burgeoning modeling career, or rather, he's planning to "milk it for all it's worth."

Hula hooping is the new craze around here.

My car's insurance and registration are out, so I'm off the road. My dad keeps saying he'll take care of it, but I might have to give up and shell out myself. Until then, it's the feet for me. (Also, my speedometer is way off.)

I broke down and got a cellphone. Well, Dwayne got one for me after I got lost two or three times in one week.

 

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