Off to work for the weekend, fortunately, it’s right around the corner. Unfortunately, it’s still work, and we’re opposite SXSW music shows.
Unrelated:
Merc Notes – from the first of this year. Yeah baby, that link’s for you.
Unrelated:
Big Mamma fish. Had me one Friday morning. Light line, small spinner, bouncing and jigging the spoon off the bottom. I was sure it was a snag, until I noticed it started to move. I walked that line up and down the shoreline, and I kept tightening the drag on the reel, and we were doing just fine until she headed for a stump. I know about the snag and the stump, the brush under there. Once she took off upstream like that? I was a doomed. The line snapped as she raced under that stump – right in front of the dock. Big one. Got away. And that was 8-pound line, too.
The rest of the story:
I alternated between fishing and writing all morning. I got two more tickles, but I never got my lure back from that one monster fish, who will, no doubt, grow in size with the telling of the story. By mid-afternoon, the rain and mist cleared off and I took off for a long walk, work the kinks out of my system as I’ll spend all of Saturday and Sunday, parked on my butt. Lunch in a little place where English is optional with Univision going in the corner. I’m beginning to prefer media in Spanish, makes it easier to take.
A cop was just putting a cop boat in the water, and I joked with him briefly, although, he wasn’t sure how to take it. Let’s see, he has no speed limit on the lake, freshly rebuilt motor, the sun was out, he was in shorts, looks like a good gig to me.
He puttered off upstream, same direction I was heading. I did catch him at the First Street bridge, about the same time my phone jingled in my pocket, “I’ve got your backstage pass, if you just want to come to the back gate,” someone told me. I didn’t get a chance to make a smart comment to the stranded officer. Maybe that was better. He had the cowling off the motor, and he was working on something.
I sauntered backstage, pasted on the day pass, and immediately headed for the crowd in front. It looked like a pretty small crowd for a free Kris Kristofferson show.
Just as I headed towards the stage and staked out a good spot, some DJ did the introduction, and I was suddenly in a huge crowd.
This is where it gets weird. I look at people. The guy in front of me, much older, wearing a “Dale Jr.” shirt, was singing along to the songs, making eyes at his female companion of similar vintage. The songs you know by heart. Standing close by, a young couple was swaying to the music, probably about the same age as the signer’s children. Very mixed crowd, but it did tend towards the older side. But not exclusively. Plenty of the young and hip, “here, try this, it’s called, ‘Shiner,’ it’s their beer here….”
It was just Kris Kristofferson, singing a handful of his hits, making humorous comments about his harmonica playing, like, “Bob Dylan it ain’t, but it’ll do….”
Sure, it was magic.
I left right after the set, about 50 minutes of music.
I got turned around and didn’t feel like doing the Salmon thing, swimming upstream against the crowds, so it was just easier to swing back downtown, snag some mail out of the PO box, and then head home. Cruising around downtown? Music, musicians and music fans everywhere.
Got the funniest note in the mailbox, too. About a new Bass Pro shop. Once again, I was walking along a downtown sidewalk, chuckling to myself.
I watched as a punk-a-billy band rolled their instruments towards some venue. Stand-up bass and stand-up wave hair was the clue. Hank III shirt, then a few moments later, a Hank Jr. shirt. Just weird observations, no place for any of them.
After the previous evening’s success with night fishing, I really wanted to try it again.
I got home, and there was a second query from a different publisher.
My head is spinning, and I don’t know what to do. Got to get some sleep.
