K&W in Laguna Beach -- Saturday, 12Mar2016

Pretty cold still, but people are starting to show up. Even had some little kids out, so I could give away some fingerlights. And finally some people who were just "out", not just "on the way to the next bar", so I was able to capture their attention for a while.

When I got there, there were some kids screwing around, singing and dancing with a burger-n-fries plastic basket on the ground to collect presumed tips, of which there were none. I didn't interfere, figuring they'd tire of it soon enough. A family came by that seemed to know them and helped with a pretty serviceable acapella "Summer Nights" (I'm guessing the high school put "Grease" on this year), and afterward the mom produced enough cash to let them decide that they were a success, and done.

I had taken the afternoon to knock together a scrap wood third iteration of an easier-to-lug drum pedal. This one uses a known-working drum sound generating device -- an ancient "Dr. Rhythm" drum machine from 1983. It has buttons on it to manually play the drum sounds, so I just had to rig a way to press one of them with my foot, without crushing the box. It worked quite well, finally, but I didn't get to play it much because I didn't have the stool to sit on, so I couldn't play it on songs that have both drums and changes to the harmony. I can even shift the device in its cradle to get different sounds under the button...

Which worked quite well when some nice girls asked for "Please, Mister Postman". I moved the drum machine to the "Hand Clap" sound, and described and demonstrated the requisite distinctive "Clap-clap.... Clap!" pattern, but said that they would have to keep it going because I can't tap my foot to that syncopation while playing the straight rhythm pattern on the guitar. I've tried, believe me. But the guy who was chatting them up, Blake, volunteered to come up and work the pedal, and did so, crouched down, intently playing the pedal with his hands. And it was great! Really helps make that song.

The girl, Cassie, who had requested "Mr. Postman" wanted to buy my CD, but she didn't have any cash (as happens a lot, these days). She asked if I had a card reader, which, I suppose, I ought to get. As a compromise, I traded her a CD for a selfie to post here.

Her new friend Blake had "just got off the plane" from somewhere(s) and also didn't have any American money, but gave me a Serbian 100 Dinar note (90 cents, US), with none other than Nikolai Tesla on it. Cool.

The only sour note of the evening was a lot of interference from Homeless Willy, with his "I'll just sit over here and shut up" routine, which stays in effect for only ever-so-brief periods. If anyone slows down, he immediately leaps up and starts hitting them up for cigarettes or money, which of course creeps them out and they leave. And people who'll stop for even a little while are too rare to give up these days, so after a half-dozen warnings, Warren finally called the cops, who came by and had a talking-to with him, but he was right back at it almost as soon as they left. I finally stopped in the middle of a song to physically intimidate him away from the couple who had requested it, and he got mad enough to cuss me out, declare my music terrible, and leave. Whatever it takes, Willy.

So, as it warms up, it's simultaneously getting better and worse. With the scheduling tyranny of the Tommies and the creepy homeless guys and palm-frond origami opportunists who love to "work" the audience that I assemble, I really hope I can crack the Dana Point nut and have a second, and possibly way better, choice for the summer.