The Trace-Elliot bass head that Dirk's ordering for me costs $1,000.00! I couldn't believe he was willing to buy such an expensive piece of equipment. Granted, this is repayment for debts incurred a long, long time ago, but he's also going to buy me a speaker cabinet to go with that. All in all, he'll most likely spend about $1,500+ to get me set up.
You should see the Trace Elliot he's getting me. Made in England, 300 watts, 12 EQ thingies (and here my technical knowledge runs out), it slices, it dices, it purees, dammit. The only better-made bass head on the planet is the Trace Elliot that's a thousand watts. It also has three channels: mono, stereo, and [a third one]. I'm going to call the third channel blareo. We have no idea what comes after stereo. Dirk's putting a down payment on it early next week.
Today is another monthly anniversary. Next month, we'll have been together for two years. Dirk got me my two-year anniversary gift early; last night, in fact. It's a purple Fender P Bass. It's gorgeous. It was a surprise, especially since we were at the store and he gave no hint that he was planning to buy it. He just asked me if I liked it a lot (I'd pointed it out to him the last time we were at Mars), and I responded enthusiastically. He wanted to be certain that the color wasn't a turn-off for me, because of Krisco. (As if I'd ever let her rule my life that way) Dirk waited until I stepped out to go to the pet store next door, then he hurried up and bought it. He was waiting outside Mars with the bass (in a gig bag) when I got back from the pet store.
I stayed up past one in the morning playing that bass. I've never been so excited with an instrument. I must have played our entire set along with the tape. I polished it up, put it in the gig bag, and put it away. Then I felt guilty, because I hadn't paid that much attention to my other bass in eons. I took it out of the case, polished it, and found something odd. It looked as though parts of the back had been dented with a screwdriver. It's damaged the paint job. I have no idea what could have caused this, unless it's the guitar stand I use to hold it up during practice.
I felt bad, because I've always been very careful with that bass. I think I'm going to get my own guitar stand so that it can't get any further damaged. I'd hate for the new one to have the same thing happen to it, too.
It feels silly to say this, but I feel a sort of bond with the new bass. I've got this urge to go home and play it right now — I can't wait, the anticipation is going to kill me. I've never had this strong a desire to practice. Dirk says that instruments have souls. If this is true, obviously the bass and I ‘click'. Perhaps I should name it.
I went online last night. For once, disturbingly, Krisco was on. It's literally been a year since I last saw her name pop up on my buddy list. I don't know why I keep it there; morbid curiousity, I guess. I got this mad urge to say something to her, pester her, rip the scabs off every wound she's got.
I wanted to make her hurt.
I wanted to remind her who won, after all.
Instead, I talked to Katie A— and prayed to the Great God of Computers that Krisco would just sign off, thus removing the temptation.
Besides, I don't like being petty.
Aaron made a tape of part of the Ramones show at Lollapalooza ‘96. Actually, I think Sonia made it with a mini-recorder she had hidden on her. Anyway, they managed to get fairly good recordings of about nine songs. Aaron was playing it for us, and I told him that [if he didn't mind breaking the law] he could plug those recordings into a computer program, clean them up a bit, burn a CD, and record tapes off the CD to sell at punk shows. People would eat that shit up, especially all the punks who were in diapers back in ‘96, and completely missed out on seeing the Ramones live.
It wouldn't get you rich, but it would be a good way to make a fast couple of bucks.
I'm a scam artist in my heart of hearts. In my last life, I was jailed for fraud.
The other side of the tape had Sonia talking like a five-year-old. She was also emitting little whiny screams. Aaron and Dirk were laughing at the utter disgust/amazement on my face while I listened to this. It sounded like a hugely perverted sex game, even though sex wasn't brought up once. I don't understand how Aaron could have slept with her.
I'm going to get the oil changed in my car tonight. I'm leaving work, changing into my normal clothing, and going by the Grease ‘N Go near my house. Normally, I'd just go in my work clothes, but I know most of the guys there from High school. I'm not friends with them or anything, I just recognize them on sight....I don't want them to see me in my business suit. I can just imagine them saying, "God, when did she get so fat/thin/cute/blonde/ugly?" I never wore skirts in high school. Ever. Ever. I wore baggy jeans and tee-shirts that showed nothing of my figure. Worst of all would be if they thought I looked good in the suit.
Okay, enough news. Back to work.
