Tales of the American Jet-set

Spent a brief sojourn in Memphis last night. Got a pic of Sun Studios and had a few rounds in a Beale street bar while watching an entertaining rockabilly band. I forget the name but they put on quite a show...the bass player and guitarist playing each others' instruments at the same time...the bassist taking his shirt off then climbing on top of the bar to play a solo...the drummer walking around the bar tapping on everything from stools to beer bottles ala Stomp. Stayed across the street from Graceland at the Heartbreak hotel, though wasn't able to make it over to the King's place.

I was fortunate to be able to return to Clarkesdale, Mississippi earlier in the day so as to see the Delta Blues Museum since it was closed the night I tried to make a deal with the devil. Ate at Abe's at the Crossroads again. Chickened out going into the authentic Juke Joint again since I already felt self-conscious wearing khaki pants.

Met my friend Gaspare, a Sicilian rocket scientist, and his friend Scott, a Jewish attorney, in my hotel bar. We went to a nice steak restaurant that was in an enormous two-level room and was full of suited NYC powerbroker types. The waitresses were all modelesque and dressed as if they were going to the Oscars. The meal was excellent albiet a bit expensive, oh well. Now I'll have to try and bury the elephant in my expense report somehow.

This afternoon I had some time to kill so I walked past Rockafeller center over to Fifth avenue to do some window shopping. A man passed me, zombie-eyed, with an ashen smudge on his forehead. I was a little curious but remembered a woman whom I worked with yesterday had mentioned something about going to church today for ash wednesday. It was kind of ghoulish seeing dozens of NY'ers going about their lunchtime business with a dirty forehead. Even with a fairly religious upbringing I am unfamiliar with the reasons behind this tradition. It's probably Catholic in origin. NYC seems like the only place I really see outward religious expression. I don't believe I've ever seen a Yarmulke worn outside the island of Manhattan. I recalled a dream I had last night where my friends and I sat down at the nice restaurant and one of them insisted we pray. I felt uncomftable but went along with it anyway.

At the airport, I was going through security and my line was merging with another. No one offered to allow me into their line, so I finally smiled and asked a woman if she minded if I just slipped in front of her. She mumbled something which I took to mean "no" because she scurried past me. I few moments later, as I approached the screening tables a woman behind me grabbed all the bins. Was I invisible? So I asked her if she was going to use all the bins, to which she mumbled something incoherent and garbled as well, not answering me. So I just took the bin in question. It's situations like this that have made me resolve to always let someone else go first, ahead of me, hold a door open, etc. I already do this most of the time, but I really want to try harder, if only to set an example, instead of perpetuating the problem. It really does feel better to wave you arm in front of you and say, "please, you go first." Half the time the people truely appreciate it, and it takes the stress out of feeling like you're competing with everyone. On a related note, all day everyone I make eye contact with looks at me with disgust. Their faces shrivel in horror, as if I was wearing a shirt with a swastika emblazoned across it. Perhaps I'm just being paranoid.

Last night I stashed $80 in my motel room, then later forgot where I had hidden it. Does that mean I'm getting old?

Just got back from seeing Les Paul at Iridium in Times Square NYC. The place was full but I got seated at a table at the very foot of the stage. Perhaps owing to my dapper attire, I think the big mook running the joint saw me and gave the nod to the host to put me in front. I could have reached out and played the guitar myself. The man is amazing. He's nearly 90 and still playing two sets every Monday night. For those unfamiliar with Les, he invented a a few things like the electric guitar, reverb and multi-track recording. There was a young hick couple seated next to me who talked a bit at the end which was annoying. I waited a half-hour after the set to get a picture with Les and when I finally got it, the hick girl said it was a good one and like a fool I didn't check until later and it was all blurry. I don't usually like autographs but got him to sign my program anyway. "To Mike, Howdy - Les Paul."