SubscribeStar Saturday: Festival in the Park

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‘Tis festival season, and yours portly is living it up.  In just a couple of weekends I’ll be hawking my humble wares at the South Carolina Bigfoot Festival, which will be either my Hastings or my Gallipoli.

Before I return to my spot inside the tent, however, I’m enjoying experiencing festivals from outside.  The coming of autumn means it is the height of festival season, and yours portly couldn’t be happier.

After a successful visit to the Columbia Greek Festival two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to take in Charlotte, North Carolina’s Festival in the Park last weekend.  It is, perhaps, the best festival I’ve attended in recent years.

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TBT^16: The Joy of Autumn

This year is the first time I’ve noticed a pop cultural excitement for autumn.  Sure, people love talking about “sweater weather” and Spooky Season, but this year it’s everywhere.  I’ve witnessed dozen of memes all gleefully proclaiming the arrival of fall before August even had a chance to expire.

The pumpkin spiced everything trend is also back in a big way, and marketers have gone all in to cater to single women with disposable incomes.  In this case, lump me in with the single women.  While I haven’t bought gallons pumpkin spiced lattes (now trendily abbreviated as “PSLs”), I certainly appreciate pumpkin flavoring.

Besides, who doesn’t love the festive rotundity of pumpkins?  They’re so round and jolly—the charismatic, carotene-rich cousins to the lumpy squash.

So it is that I happily greet the start of autumn, even if that does make me a girl.

With that, here is “TBT^4: The Joy of Autumn“:

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Live Music Public Service Announcement: Don’t Ask for a Recording

Yesterday I shared video of a live performance of my song “Hipster Girl Next Door” with an extended, absurd, frequently sloppy medley of songs tossed on at the end(s).  It was great fun, even though I mixed up the lyrics to my own song!

Before the gig, regular reader and contributor Ponty asked if I’d be recording the performance.  Ponty lives in Merry Olde England, so obviously could not make it to the performance here in these United States.  I was happy to oblige my Anglo-Saxon friend, but I must explain a somewhat unfortunate, visceral reaction I had initially upon reading the request (disclaimer:  Ponty, I am not upset at you.  —TPP).

hate it when people ask me “will the performance be recorded?” (with the exception of Ponty, who, again, lives in England, or Audre, neither of whom I would ever expect to travel to hear me play sloppy cover songs in a coffee shop).  I imagine if you ask most small-time indie musicians, they’ll confess to the same sentiment.  For me, it boils down to two things:

1.) You’re clearly indicating that you have no intention of even attempting to make it out to hear me play live.

2.) You’re asking me to perform extra work to record a video of a performance you have no interest in attending, and you’re probably not going to watch the video anyway.

Again, there are exceptions:  people who live abroad/far away (Ponty, Audre, readers of this blog more than thirty minutes away), parents of school children for school performances (parents want recordings for grandparents and family members who live far away, or because work won’t allow them to attend a performance), and the like.

But it kills me when locals ask for a recording.

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Open Mic Adventures XLIX: Sloppy “Hipster Girl Next Door” Medley

This past Friday, 22 September 2023, I played a gig at a local coffee shop with my buddy John.  I was recovering from a sinus infection, but through a combination of cough drops, water, and tea, I soldiered through and managed to hit quite a few high notes—woooooot!  It also helped having John there to carry lead vocals on several tunes.

It was a sloppy performance on my end—I mixed up the lyrics to a song I have been singing for eleven years!—but I’m chalking that up to the sinus congestion and my slowly diminishing mental faculties.  The result, regardless, was an absurd, self-indulgent, over-the-top, ridiculous, long closing number to a very fun show.

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Memorable Monday Morning Movie Review: They Live (1988)

Longtime readers know that I love John Carpenter‘s films.  Weird, funny, thought-provoking, action-packed, scary—they all have a certain “quality” that is quintessentially, uniquely Carpenter-esque.

So when my local cinema screened 1988’s They Live a couple of weekends ago, I naturally had to go.

I wrote an entire piece about They Live, entitled “They Live: Analysis and Review” back in 2019.  I rereading my original review, I find that I agree with most of my original summary and assessment, but I think my analysis was colored too heavily by the derring-do of the Trump Administration.

In viewing the film again, I’d still argue that it makes a compelling point about our worship of Efficiency and her consort, Productivity, at the expense of everything else (like God, family, friends, community, art, etc.).  Our elites will sacrifice everything to keep GDP growing, even if it means grinding us into a spiritually empty enslavement to mindless jobs and mindless entertainment—drudges in a machine that only wants to keep us mollified until the next deadening shift at the salt mines.

With that, here is 20 May 2019’s “They Live: Analysis and Review“:

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Lazy Sunday CXXI: Myersvision, Part VIII

Our senior correspondent Audre Myers has been a source of encouragement for yours portly lately, so it seemed appropriate to return to retrospectives of her contributions to this site.  She’s been delivering the goods lately:

Happy Sunday!

—TPP

Other Lazy Sunday Installments:

SubscribeStar Saturday: Columbia Greek Festival

Today’s post is a SubscribeStar Saturday exclusive.  To read the full post, subscribe to my SubscribeStar page for $1 a month or more.  For a full rundown of everything your subscription gets, click here.

Festival season is back in full swing, and yours portly couldn’t be happier.  Festivals—like everything good, fun, and wholesome—took a hit in The Age of The Virus, but I’m pleased to report they are back with a vengeance.

Yours portly had the opportunity to enjoy the Columbia Greek Festival last Saturday, 16 September 2023 (with some agreeable female company), and it was packed.  As I noted to my companion, “I love it and I hate it.”  I love seeing the throngs of unwashed (sometimes literally) humanity sauntering around aimlessly in amorphous blobs of sweat and excitement.  I also hate waiting in lines and being around amorphous blobs of sweat and excitement.

But it’s encouraging to see people eating gyros and baklava.  It’s heartening to see little kids scampering about recklessly.  It’s cool hearing upbeat Greek dance music.  There was even the Orthodox priest running around, looking like a harried Rasputin, complete with a massive Apple Watch on his bony wrist.

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Gig Day VIII: Tickling the Ivories

Tonight, for the first time in awhile, I’ll be playing a solo gig at a local coffee shop in Darlington, South Carolina.  I’m looking forward to stretching out these stubby fingers and doing some soft rockin’.

Well, it won’t be entirely solo:  my buddy John will be joining me on a number of songs.  His gorgeous twelve-string guitar and his capable backing vocals add a great deal of depth and texture to my tunes, so I’m glad he’ll be joining me.

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