7/11/11 proved lucky, given the heat and humidity. A local security guard, who has purchased several CDs from the floating bookshop, once asked if I had any books on music. I searched high and low, in vain, for a Bruce Springsteen songbook I was sure I hadn't sold. It had guitar tablature to all the songs from his first four or five albums. I'd learned Badlands, I'm on Fire and Because the Night, and probably attempted a few more that I gave up on, tearing the sheets out to make the process easier. The other day I noticed that the stack of books and old manuscripts I used to support the sagging center of my futon/bed had collapsed. Sure enough, the Springsteen book was among them, as well as a Best of Fleetwood Mac, from which I'd learned Rhiannon. I'd tried to learn Sara, changing the key, marking up those pages with a pen, but I gave up. Although the chords were easy, there were too many changes for my taste. I have to really respect a song's lyrics to work that hard. While I really like the totality of Sara, especially the emotion, I find most of Fleetwood Mac's lyrics unpolished, never rising above a B. Don't get me wrong, writing B lyrics is a great accomplishment. Songwriting is a bear. Any attempts I've ever made were comical. Fleetwood Mac has a fine legacy.
Anyway, the gentleman bought the books, despite their flaws, as well as Freeing the Natural Voice, which actor-singer Johnny Feets had donated. I even located the pages I'd torn from the Springsteen book. Thank you, sir.
Congratulations to the Pittsburgh Pirates who, for the first time since 1992, are above .500 at the All-Star break, ending an incredible run of futility.
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