.

Report from Nashville Part One:

I first went to Nashville for a week in the middle of November to reconnoiter.

I got to know my way around the city. Downtown is a tourist trap, but with the big old bars and cheap beers,
the Country Music Hall of Fame, the Ryland Theater [Grand Ole Opry], the Johnny Cash Museum, etc.

A mile to the West is Music Row, with the offices of BMI, ASCAP, SESAC, recording studios, music publishers, etc. etc.

East Nashville, across the Cumberland River from downtown is cheaper, and has a lot of the smaller nightclubs.

But there are venues all over town, and in the suburbs too.

Plenty of places have open mike nights.

The level of musicianship is stunning. Nashville is full of wannabes who really could get lucky.
But also full of people who have made it partway and then hung around here for years and years.

I've been to BMI and to meetings and workshops of the NSAI [Nashville Songwriters Association]
and to gatherings arranged by meetup.com of songwriters.
Nightclubs and other venues are not terribly expensive here.
You could go out every night if you wanted to without going broke.

I've met some interesting people, but haven't made any progress business-wise.
Every single one of these businesses have people whose only job is to fend off the army of would-be hopefuls.
I think a thousand of them arrive every month. Me included.

I haven't met one single person here who had heard of kompoz before.

More next week. ; J

==============================

REPORT FROM NASHVILLE Part III:


THE HANGING TREE:
http://www.kompoz.com/music/collaboration/68614/file/217492/1

Last night I played this track for 45 people
at the Nashville Songwriters Association International [NSAI]
at their weekly workshop event. It went over very well.

The workshop was run by noted songwriter Jen Adan,
who wrote a big hit for Blake Shelton back in 2009: "She Wouldn't be Gone".
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/She_Wouldn%27t_Be_Gone

Jen had some interesting things to say about it,
mainly that the title gave away the punchline,
and that the revelation that he's on his way to be hanged should come later in the song.

I don't agree, but at least it wasn't bullshit.

A dozen other songs were critiqued at the same event,
and a couple were more popular.

But that's to be expected, this song is very very dark.

Then me and three friends went to Taco Mamacita's for beer and tacos.

We've all moved to Nashville recently to try to make it here.
Ido from Israel, Reed and Rachel from Wisconsin.

We're in the same boat.



I can try to pitch this song elsewhere, but who's gonna sing it?

It's just too damn nasty for radioplay.

=======================================

REPORT FROM NASHVILLE Part IV:

TEN YEAR TOWN song lyrics
by Joel Sattler

they say Nashville is a ten year town
Nashville is a ten year town
you gotta keep up your hope
you can't let it get you down

they call it a town of dreamers
of con men and of schemers
a million guitar pickers
and chicken finger lickers

I came into town on a Greyhound bus
I was at the end there was no more "us"
she wouldn't even answer the telephone
now I gotta spend Christmas all alone

a town full of dreamers
a city full of dreams
but sometimes dreams are all
you're gonna get it seems

but I'm stuck in a ten year town
here for good in a ten year town
cause when you're numbers up
aint no where to go but up


==============





REPORT FROM NASHVILLE Part V:


In America, many gas stations are also convenience stores
[i.e., snack shops with some groceries too].

There is one within walking distance of my hotel.
They have a dozen different types of "chicarrones"
which are crispy fried pork skins sold in bags like potato chips,
two dozen different types of beef jerky [but no turkey jerky],
three dozen different types of potato chips and corn chips,
beer, coffee, sodas, lottery tickets, etc., etc.

Across the street is the Waffle House,
which sells breakfasts at about half the price as anywhere else.
Not bad. Good hashbrowns.
There are over 1000 of them in the South.
I'd never heard of them before.
I love diners, aka "greasy spoons".
[anyone who knows me can attest to that]

I've been having a lot of trouble
finding a long term place to stay at a price I can afford.
I wanted to find a place before I got a job, but it's proving difficult.

I almost got lucky lucky lucky the other day:
a guy responded to my craigslist ad about wanting a room:
he has a pitbull and a Jack Russell and a cat
and he wanted someone to live in his house [at low rent]
and take care of them while he was on his job as a long-distance trucker.
Plus which, he knew people in the music business
[from being both a professional musician, and
a tour bus driver for Darius Rucker and Norah Jones, among others],
and he offered to introduce me to them.
And, as a bonus, his friends were doing Christmas
for all their buddies who couldn't be with their families, and he invited me.

Then the next day he emailed and said that due to liability issues
he couldn't rent the room to me, after all.

Broke my heart. I liked the dogs. And they liked me.

I have some other possibilities, but not until January 1,
and most of the places I can afford to go to are shutting down for the next two weeks.

And, on top of the anxiety and uncertainty, I'm terribly homesick.

But at least I'm not a Syrian refugee stuck on the wrong side of the Turkish border,
so I ought to be grateful.

Right?

- Joel

=======================

REPORT FROM NASHVILLE Part VI:

Yesterday morning,
I found an 1899 Indian Head copper penny in my pocket,
which I obviously had acquired as loose change.

I thought: "This will be my day!"

So much for luck.

I failed at every single thing I set out to accomplish.

I started off at Liz's Diner in Goodlettsville,
which had rave reviews,
where I had a mediocre cheese omelet
and very good biscuits.
The best part of breakfast was soaking in the ambiance
of a old and genuine American family diner.

Nuttin fancy hon.

I went to the Post Office near Music Row to rent a PO box,
but they wouldn't do it unless I had a Nashville address.
I said: "If I had a Nashville address, I wouldn't need a box!"

Went around and around Music Square
with a package that I wanted to give to a music promoter,
hoping that I could get some face time with a pro,
but I couldn't find the address.
I went into a number of buildings but no go.
I finally came to the conclusion that the address must be a "mail drop".

Stopped in at NSAI but nothing was happening
and they're closing down until January.

Drove past Vanderbilt University on 21st which turns into Hillsboro Pike
and crawled through traffic for over an hour to get five miles.

Went past the Bookman/Bookwoman bookstore,
which I had hunted through earlier, without luck.
I haven't found anyplace in Nashville that is good for bookscouting.

Got to visit a coin and currency dealer
but he wasn't interested in my 1793 Connecticut Pay Table note
signed by General Huntington, or my Civil War bonds,
or my 1854 fractional currency 50-cent bill.
I showed him my Indian Head penny and he laughed.

I walked across the street to a noted local venue
called the Bluebird Cafe [famous from the TV show "Nashville"],
but they were closed, nightly show was sold out.

Went way south of the city to see another dealer,
but he wasn't seeing any one except by appointment
and then not until mid-January.

Went to a shop nearby which dealt in militaria,
but they were more junk than precious.

I haven't found any venue in Nashville
to which I could apply my book and art expertise,
and my record expertise is no big deal here.
Lots of people know old vinyl in Music City.

Then got stuck in more traffic on the way back
to my motel north of the city.

Ended up mailing the package I'd been carrying around all day.

This morning I woke up to discover
that my most Nashvilleian lyrics
had been successfully rendered
by one of my favorite co-writers.

Who lives and posts from Dubai.


Is this a crazy world, or what ????

=======================


REPORT FROM NASHVILLE Part VII:


Last night the tornado warning sirens
were blasting out from the Goodlettsville Fire Department
while it was raining cats and dogs
and the wind howled like a hammer.

But no major damage was done here,
that was in Mississippi.

They had predicted it would hit about noon,
so I thought I wouldn't be able to get anything done that day,
so instead, I went out for a drive along Long Hollow Pike.
I was cruising down a back road
when I saw something out of the corner of my eye
that made me slam on the brakes and do a quick u-turn:
two dozen wild turkeys pecking around the parking lot
of a little Baptist church in its own hollow.

I had never seen turkeys in the wild before.
I sat there gaping at them,
hoping no one would see me
and laugh at the dumb yankee tourist.

I came to Nashville first about 40 years ago
when it was a big little town.
Now, it's a real city, with skyscrapers,
surrounded by a suburbopolis
full of shopping centers and strip malls
and every chain of restaurant and department store you can think of.
Thousands of them. More springing up like mushrooms every day.

Doughnut shops are a big deal here.
I saw 20 cars at the drive-thru at the Krispy Kreme
at 9 PM on a Saturday night.

A few days ago I went bookscouting
at a little quaint town called Franklin way south of the city.
I visited Joel at Landmark Books and we had a long conversation.
I bought a book just to be polite,
He mentioned that Fred at Rhino Books in Nashville
was a well-known songwriter and a good bookman
so I went there the next day.

I talked with him for a couple of hours
and he took me into his inner sanctum
and showed me his treasures
and played some of his songs and gave me his CD,
so, of course, I gave him mine.

That's called the "Nashville Handshake".

Is this progress?


======================


REPORT FROM NASHVILLE Part VIII:

In the early afternoon, I drove around lower Broadway,
where all the big clubs and tourist traps are.
There were street musicians busking on every corner,
and music blasting out of Coyote Ugly and the other places too.

I saw the blues band fronted by Miranda Louise at Soulshine Pizza the other day,
so when I heard she was having a late afternoon/early evening jam session
at Carol Ann's in South Nashville I was eager to go.

It was promoted on the local Hippie Radio station so I expected a crowd.
But there was only about a dozen people in the audience,
and half of them were there to jam with the band.

She was terrific, as always, and the band was outstanding.
I asked the harp player if Nashville didn't care about the blues,
and he said it was off season.

From there, I went to a little club called Station Inn
next to Vanderbilt University
where they were having a bluegrass jam session.

At the peak, there were 250 people jammed into a space meant for about 80.
At the beginning, there were about a dozen people sitting around in a circle,
not facing the audience, and not even on the stage.
That number grew to more than 20.
A stand-up bass, a half-dozen mandolins, 3 banjos,
a dobro, 4 fiddles, and the rest guitars and singers.

Organic Americana, unrehearsed,
good and sometimes very good, but not great, not tight.
Quite delightful.

My guess is that if the blues thing had been in the same venue,
it would have been packed too.

Are there any AMATEUR musicians in Nashville?

======================

REPORT FROM NASHVILLE Part IX

At the moment that I am typing this,
I am in the Bongo Java cafe
which is right across the street from the Mike Curb center,
which is part of Belmont University
which is right next to Music Row.

I found a room in a house nearby, finally.
The owner is a singer who is completely fed up with Nashville
and wants to get outta here, but is waiting to see if she
can sell her house for $2 million dollars.
It's not a great house, but the location is awesome.

But she doesn't have wifi,
so I'm coffeeing here.

I basically hid in my hotel room on New Year's Eve.
Nashville has a terrible reputation for DUI's
and I really didn't feel like getting drunk myself.

My singer landlord is giving me the lowdown on the music scene here,
but she's an Illuminati conspiracy aficionado,
and she keeps going off on a tangent.

She says I'm getting off to a great start here,
but it seems awful slow to me.
They say it takes ten years to make it in this town,
but I don't know if I've got that kind of time.

I think I've got a job with a bookstore,
but that still hasn't been finalized yet.
My only marketable skill is in the buying and selling of used books,
the more valuable the better.
I can do art, autographs, maps, documents, etc.
My skill with collectible vinyl is no big deal here.
There are plenty of record experts in Nashville.

I would rather concentrate on the songwriting,
but I have to find a way to pay the rent!
My savings are going to run out eventually.

Watching how people write songs here
makes me grateful for kompoz.
Youse guys don't know how easy we have it!

I keep telling people about kompoz,
but they don't seem to get it.

"Crowdsourcing a song?"

Yup.


===============

REPORT OUTTA NASHVILLE Part X:

As I type these words
I am sitting near the corner of Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco.

I had paid for a room near Belmont University,
but the woman from whom I was renting a room
turned out to be a ____-__________ _____
and had a _________ ___ and I decided to just get the heck outta there.

And sitting in my hotel room in Goodlettsville,
I thought over what I had managed to accomplish in Nashville:
not much.

I couldn't get in to see any music publishers, promoters,
agents, record companies, etc.
I had met a lot of second rate musicians
and even managed to try to write songs with some of them,
but no big deal.

[Remember: it takes a PRODIGIOUS amount of talent to be second rate.]

In fact, two of the songs I had written in Nashville,
specifically for the Nashville songwriters,
got done on kompoz instead,
and were far superior to the versions that the Nashvillians had attempted:
MY OWN PERSONAL COWBOY
MY OWN PERSONAL COWGIRL
THE ALL AMERICAN DINER, aka DIXIE'S DINER.

Even the guy who was thinking of employing me in his bookstore,
kept on waffling about it.

So I checked out, returned the rent-a-car,
took the Greyhound to Chicago,
and hopped the California Zephyr to the West Coast.

This was a ride I've wanted to take for 40 years:
through the narrow valleys of the Rocky Mountains
through Colorado, Utah, Nevada
and the Sierra Nevadas, all snow covered.

I even saw a bald eagle flying over Ruby Canyon of the Colorado!

Perfect weather. Three days and two nights.
Everything I hoped it would be.

It was nice to not be disappointed in something.

Haight-Ashbury is full of tourists, dogs and the homeless.
I met a travelling hippie couple
who had trained their cats to ride on top of their backpacks.
I was actually envious of them:
footloose and fancy-free !

I'm still tied down by my foolish expectations.....

================


REPORT FROM NASHVILLE Part II

[I've looked and looked, but I can't find a part two to this series.
Did I forget to write it? Did I lose it? Did I imagine it?
I guess better late than never....]

In the first week I was in Nashville, back in November,
I was sitting in my motel room hankering for something to eat,
so I walked down past the Waffle House to the MacDonald's
and ordered a hot fudge sundae, one of the cheapest things on the menu.
I paid for the slop, and then
the waitron discovered there were no tops for the cups
so she went in the back and spent five minutes hunting them down;
then she discovered there was no fudge,
so she went in the back to hunt for that,
and after five minutes I was really poed
and I left.

I dodged my way across the highway to a sleazy restaurant
called "Chicago Style Gyros" [which is one of a chain],
and got a chicken plate for $7.99,
which is cubes of marinated chicken on a bed of rice
covered with cucumber yogurt sauce,
and with a scoop of tabouleh and a pita
served in a styrofoam take-out tray.

Absolutely delicious.

I finished half of it and boxed it up to take it back to my room
and got up to the highway and my path crossed
with two homeless men who were trudging up the hill.

I said, "I'm going to buy you guys dinner!"

I led them into the gyroserie
and told them to order whatever they wanted
and we sat down and I heard their stories:

One was a tiny old man, long white hair and beard, filthy,
who had been disowned by his family
and had nothing. Nothing.

The other was a kid in his twenties,
full packback, dirty face, grungy,
who had been travelling for seven years,
starting from Brazil,
working his way up through South to Central America
and all across the United States.
He was still mourning the cat he had lost the month previous.

I gave them twenty dollars each
and sent them on their way.

Later, sitting on my rented bed,
I suddenly realized that these guys were me,
or a harbinger of what was yet to be,
or of what I was and could have been.

I'm on the road because of a number of things,
but essentially because my bookscouting business
was not making enough money and hadn't for years,
and my wife said "Get a job or get out!"
and I said "Okay, I'm moving to Nashville!"

[Later, when I reconsidered, she said, "No. You blew it."]

So, I'm like the old man. Abandoned.

On the other hand, when I was in my teens and twenties,
back in late 1960's and early 1970's,
I hitchhiked all over the US and even into Mexico and back,
amassing over 35,000 miles last time I counted.

So, I was like that kid, and could be again.

The road leads to freedom. The road leads to death.

And it's the same road.

==================

P.S.: That long spiel about running around to MacDonald's and all
was to emphasize the lucky coincidence in the timing of meeting these guys:
if there had been a 30 second difference, I never would have seen them.]

===================

REPORT OUTTA NASHVILLE Part XI:

San Francisco was a lotta fun.

My favorite part was playing with the ravens at Fort Funston,
which is a famous "dog beach" [dogs love it there]
and has high cliffs perfect for hang gliding.

The ravens are acclimated to humans, and will come right up to you,
but they are too smart to take food out of your hands.

It's just south of the San Francisco Zoo,
on the Pacific coast.

At the moment, I am back at my ex-home in Rockville, MD.
I was babysitting the beloved cat
while Mike and Cathy went to visit Seattle
to investigate Digipen video game design school,
but my main purpose was to get rid of all my stuff,
so there will be not a trace left behind.

That was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

I donated most of my clothes,
sold off most of my books and records,
goodwilled the rest.

One more day or so to separate our finances
and dissolve our business partnership,
and then on the road again.

I don't know where.

I might not even decide
until I'm standing in line at the Amtrak ticket counter
at Union Station at the foot of Capitol Hill.

====================

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DUp7J1j7Rs


P.S. That's not me in the video !!!

==================  

REPORT OUTTA NASHVILLE Part XII:

As I type these words, I am in Chicago,
at the Peet's Coffee shop at Union Station.

If I look up from the computer screen,
I can see the skyscrapers right across the canal.

I was going to leave Rockville, Maryland two weeks ago,
but my wife told me I could stay until I figured out what I was doing.
Well, I still don't know what I'm doing,
but staying was a good idea,
because they had a snowstorm that dumped 3 feet of snow on them
and took days to dig out.

Finally, I was starting to overstay my welcome,
so I got out before harsh words were said.

It was an all day ride on the Amtrak train
from Union Station in Washington, DC.
At 3 PM CT I'll hop aboard a train Los Angeles.

I don't have a good reason to go to LA,
but seemed like a good idea at the time.

I have no contacts, no place to stay, no where to go.

I have a BAD reason, however:
in the summer of 1969 [just before I went to Woodstock]
I hitchhiked from San Francisco to DC.
One of the rides had picked up a bunch of people along the way,
and then insisted that everyone debark
in the middle of the night on the outskirts of LA,
but I just plain did not get out.
So he ended up taking me as far as Dallas, Texas.

I've always wondered what my life would have been like
if I had stayed in Los Angeles.....

http://www.youtube.com/embed/gHecPQ_SyeY

================= 

REPORT OUTTA NASHVILLE Part XIII:


It took every bit of nerve I had to knock on the door.

It opened a crack
and a skinny middle aged blonde
holding a big grey pitbull by the collar said "Can I help you?"

"Is this Quincy Jones Publishing?"

"It used to be, but not anymore."

"Can you tell me where they moved?"

"No!" SLAM!

I went and sat in the courtyard.
It was a beautiful day, but very warm. 90 degrees.
Back home in Maryland, it was 27 degrees.

It was an odd place to run a business:
a large courtyard surrounded by dozens of little buildings
in the 6600 block of Sunset Boulevard.
I went over to the rental manager
and asked where they had moved to,
but the girls in the office said that Quincy still got mail there.
We speculated that the skinny blonde
was just fending off the army of wannabe singers and songwriters
that is the neverending plague of locusts
that descends upon everyone in the music business.

I'll try someplace else tomorrow.

I had taken three trains that got me from Washington DC to Los Angeles.
Five days, over 3000 miles. Coach, not Sleeper.

The past couple of days I been driving all over H-L,
er.....I mean L-A.
Up and down Sunset Boulevard, the Pacific Coast Highway,
Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, past UCLA,
waded in the surf at Venice Beach and tasted the ocean.

I'm staying in a little motel 25 blocks south of USC.

There doesn't seem to be much of a songwriters' scene here,
even though there's a branch of the NSAI here,
a recording academy, many record companies, etc.

I parked in front of the famous Capitol Records building
and stood on the stars of the Beatles and Buddy Holly
which are right in front of it, on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Drove by the Paramount Pictures gate,
and a bunch of other movie studios,
but didn't even try to go in.
Grauman's Chinese Theater, too.

High point of the day,
both literally and figuratively,
was cruising up Laurel Canyon Boulevard to Mulholland,
and looking out over the valley
on the other side of the Santa Monica Mountains,
where Universal Studios, plus Disney Studios, and Warner Studios are,
and millions and millions of buildings and houses
that stretches out for a hundred miles or more.
A Grand Canyon of humanity
including Universal City, North Hollywood, Burbank, etc.

What we call "Los Angeles"
is actually dozens of cities and municipalities,
and is e-fucking-normous.

Whew! I'm exhausted, and all I did was drive all day long.....

http://www.youtube.com/embed/bx0eytGVeNU

================= 

REPORT OUTTA NASHVILLE Part XIV:

Last night I went to Bell's Blues Workshop,
which is a private venue in a garage near Watts, in South LA.

For a $10 donation,
you get 5 hours of music and dancing,
Beer, soul food [thank God no chitlins!], and fun.

I had a blast !

The houseband rhythm guitarist was a white kid [named Wishbone],
and one of the guest guitarists was also,
and a few people in the crowd,
but otherwise it was just like a Mississippi juke joint.

A few days ago I watched the sunset from Griffith Observatory
[famous from movies like "Rebel Without a Cause"]
and spent 6 hours at the Getty Museum
[which is like a science fiction set on top of a mountain],
and yesterday I drove up the Pacific Coast Highway
past Malibu and around the mountains.

Traffic is bad here, but I'm from DC,
and we have it just as bad.

I guess I oughta leave LA because, obviously,
I'm not going to get anything accomplished here.

But where to go???

I'm open to suggestions.....

=================

The Grammy Awards are being given out tonight,
a mere 75 blocks away at the Staples Center, in Downtown LA.

I could try to go,
but the idea of waiting in a crowd in this hot weather for three hours
just to get a glimpse of Jay-Z, doesn't really appeal to me.

http://www.youtube.com/embed/byBs4zxJRN0


https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=bells+blues+workshop+youtube

==============

REPORT OUTTA NASHVILLE Part XV

I left LA after spending a week there and accomplishing nothing.

I did, however, discover two first rate diners:
Mel's on Sunset Strip and Norms on La Cienega.
[I am on a never-ending quest to find such places].
Mel's had an AAA+++ milkshake,
and Norms had the best breakfasts at the best price.

I was going to spend my last night there sleeping in a park,
but after a long talk with a homeless man,
who tried to sell me a knife ["You're gonna need it!"]
I decided to sit up in the train station instead.

Then I took the Amtrak to Austin, Texas:
not that I really thought I could get anything done there,
but I really wanted to see it after hearing about it.
I was there in 1969, but didn't get to see much.

I had dinner with Brannon [from Kompoz] on South Congress,
and then we went to the famous The Continental
to watch a blues band, then to 6th Street.

I'm going back tonight to check it out again.

It's more intense than the Nashville scene,
and, after midnight, they close down the street to traffic,
because it's too crowded and too crazy and too drunk.

I understand that Halloween is a riot.

Next stop? I'm not sure.

I was thinking about going back to Nashville,
but, as I discussed with Brannon,
I get much more satisfying results out of Kompoz
than I have gotten from working with Nashville musicians.

On the other hand, the money is in Nashville.
The money is also in LA and New York,
but is completely unaccessible there,,
whereas in Nashville, I theoretically have a chance.

Maybe I should just go to Eugene and chill.....

==============




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-dOXK1_wws




I went back to 6th Street last night and spent hours and hours wandering from bar to bar.
It's very similar to downtown Nashville, but it's much more intense here in Austin.
Also, the live music in Nashville is 90% country,
but in Austin it's rock, country rock, blues and Texas swing.
And solo guitar singers.

And I got drunk as a skunk. Something I haven't been in 30 years.

I'm leaving tomorrow,
but I won't know where
until I get there.

http://www.youtube.com/embed/f-dOXK1_wws


==================

REPORT OUTTA NASHVILLE Part XVI:

Disaster.

I was taking the train from Austin to St. Louis,
where I was to transfer to the bus to get back to Nashville,
when there was a short stop at Texarkana
and when I got out to stretch my legs,
the train took off without me.

I was still on the platform,
but I hadn't heard anyone say all aboard
and when I turned around the train was in motion.

I ran over and banged on the windows
and yelled and screamed,
and finally grabbed hold of a handle and rode along a little
but had enough sense to let go.

Ran into the station but the stationmaster couldn't stop the train,
but he called ahead to try to get my carry-on luggage.

I got a ride to a grubby motel,
woke up the next day and spent two hours standing in the post office,
found a friendly restaurant where I could sit for 7 hours,
spent four hours in the train station and caught the next available train.

They were supposed to get my stuff and hold it at Little Rock,
but that didn't happen.
I went up to St. Louis, my transfer point,
but they didn't have it.
Cancelled my plans and went to the end of the line,
but Chicago didn't have it either.

I lost my clothes, my backpack, my camping gear, my medicine,
AND MY COMPUTER !!!!

My whole life, and all my work was on that computer.
Most of my writing is duplicated on Authorsden and Kompoz and Wattpad,
but still, I lost a lot.

I ended up taking the train back to Rockville
and begging my wife to let me hang around for a while
and try to recover my stuff.

Tomorrow, my kid is going to help me buy a new computer.

Something tells me my karma is not in Nashville.
Maybe I should stay here.

I wasn't getting anywhere in Los Angeles or Austin,
and Nashville wasn't much better.

But Kompoz has been good to me,
and I can compost anywhere.

"If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all...."



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uo_mH-UA88k


[I didn't take the video, but that is exactly what it looked like
as my life was leaving without me]