Thursday, April 22, 2004

Johnny plays stand up bass around Boston now. He used to tear it up on an Air Force base in Heidelburg, though he's no military man:

"Princess, my dreams are coming true one by one. Thankfully I'm not being chased by a flying playing card. But the one where I'm a swinging musical dude, gigs here, sessions there, coming in at the last minute and playing better than the guy I'm filling in for, and did I mention I'm very swinging, and also a cat? It was amazing last night. I think you've been to TT's. It was an unplugged type singer/songwriter deal they do on Mondays. Nobody brings a doghouse player to these things. Nobody has a doghouse player. Nobody has ever met a doghouse player. L. was gracious enough to mention that she had only just asked me to do the gig on Friday. My Mr. Professional reading shot right off the dial. L. is great, but god DAMN, I was good. Everyone had to compliment me and ask for my card. Now I know how it feels to be the most beautiful girl in the room. Even the most beautiful girl in the room asked for my card. I say god DAMN! Can I get a witness?"


Yessirree Bob, I need a cup of coffee. Despite my propensity for small, local evil I click ten times on this website first thing every morning: Either that, or I've found the voodoo section of Field & Stream and I'm blearily sticking pins in Dick Cheney.


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