The Celebration of the Lizard

You should try this little game. Just close your eyes, forget your name. -Jim Morrison

A message comes through on social media.  Open Jam at a place called "Jade N Jewl".  The usual gang should be there, so I make plans to attend.  My GPS sends me down the wrong road and I have a bit of trouble finding it.  I eventually find the venue.  I park my wife's Mustang and peek inside.  I see a few familiar faces and go in to say hello.  Vato is setting up the audio, and I head back outside to retrieve my bass guitar.  I take a bad step and fall onto the front sidewalk.  Jacob is there and helps me up.  "How much and what are you drinking?"  He asks.  "Nothing yet"  I reply sheepishly.  I get my gear and go back inside.  

A drummer named Joe that I have known for a while is there along with The Dude.  Another drummer named Dennis comes in and sits next to me.  "What's up?" he says.  I nod hello and reach in my pocket for the recently purchased plastic party favor lizards I have just got in the mail. and drop some on the bar.  "What are these?" He asks.  "Just a gimmick, and just call me the LIZARD".

"What's THAT about?"  He demands.  The Dude chimes in, "Yeah what does it mean?"  I inform them both that it is an old nickname for me, and that I wanted to be known in the music circle as such.  I explain that lizards are much like my spirit animal and they have always been around me when good things have happened.  I spent much time in Phoenix, Arizona in my youth and the silent reptiles, much like Florida, were everywhere.  I always admired the poetry of Morrison and everyone knows his feelings on lizards.  The Dude rolls his eyes out loud and Vato steps over and says, "I was wondering where those things were coming from.  I find them all over the stage and my equipment."  Now, the bartender leans in.  "I want one" I oblige and drop some in her tip jar.

I am called to the stage to play a set, and due to the fact that I have been working on "The Blues" as it applies to bass, I get a few raised eyebrows.  Vato says,"Wow, I did not know that you could play walking runs like that.  Good job, man."  I thank him.  He asks if he can play my bass.  "Sure, no problem" I answer.  He admits checking it out earlier and says, "The action on this thing is just perfect".  He plays the next couple of sets, and smiles the entire time.

I am sitting at the bar listening and trying to learn some of the material, when the musicians fall silent.  I look across the dance floor and see why.  A female patron had just relieved herself on the floor.  After the staff mops up and tosses her out, the music continues.  

I make a few weekly returns to this jam and finally get the nerve to ask to play my 12 string acoustic guitar.  "What song are you going to play?"  The Dude asks.  Vato already knows.  "Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd".  I am really nervous, but we launch into it.  I learn an important lesson.  If one mics an open soundhole on a guitar, there is a whole bunch of FEEDBACK.  I make the best of it, and vow to conquer it again one day.  Halfway through, The Dude stops playing.  Afterwards, I ask him why.  "Was it that bad?" I question.  "Nahh, I just wanted you to be able to hear yourself."  He responds with a tip of an invisible hat.



As usual, when I arrived home, my wife asked "How did it go?"
"I played a solo." I responded.


What else could I say?



Stir up that MONKEYDUST!

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