sweet-hot and buttery biscuits, this here Thursday finds me - your humblest of humble announcers - announcing the very sturdy and strong fact that is that I am beginning to feel better. After my inter-dealings with "Dr." Albert Tubman left me swindled, bamboozled and emotionally flapping in the wind, operating - as Tubman might say - "like a little baby pansy, trembling with fear". There is no denying these things. It hurt and it stung and left me bereft of my money, my posessions, my dignity, and - most important of all - my honor.
Now, the hazy fog and detritus of my past is lifting, slowly but surely and in a steady fashion. Aided and encumbered by a kind soul at work whom let me take two advance paychecks out (at a mere 15% for his trouble) I was able to avoid eviction to the sidewalk at the Regency Tower. Granted, I don't have any furniture or anything (to be resolved soon!) but I have a toilet and running water - or rather I do now, after I had to pay through the nose to get the water re-turned on after I missed a payment (dear City Water, I was in jail! Hello!). Point being, if a man has a place to lay his head, whether it's on a pillow or on an old brown dessicated carpet w/ cracker crumbs in it, he has a home. This is a fact.
The most important piece of the puzzle as far as my artistic-ness goes for those of you who miss dearly my songs and songcraft, is this: Where is the guitar of Taffy "Sunburst" McKittrick? I'm certain it's been pawned and fenced and traded like so much rotten cornmeal throughout the seedy underbelly of this town. All by way of saying: its gone and that's fine but if i'm gonna rock this party like I'm Taffy-Old-School, I need a new guitar. When I have appropriated or found or stolen one, you better believe that my songcraft will be all over the internet again, like so many powerful viruses. This is how I give back. This is how I pay it forward.
peace
Taffy
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