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10/10/2002 Entry: "Gig Haikus"

Squeaking and squawking
All eyes roll to the heavens
The clarinet speaks

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Money's everything
Playing any gig that comes
Whores, we are all whores

The jam session starts
Somebody calls "Giant Steps"
Cold fear grips my brain

Here's the girl singer
Stepping to the microphone
Pitch, Time, All gone now

Gig is going well
******* requests "In the Mood"
I look at my watch

I once had a dream
Big house, new car, big money
Now I play the bass

Gorgeous chick tells me
"You sound just like Kenny G"
My ego shatters

The woodwind doubler
Practicing the piccolo
Frustration defined

Pit orchestra gig
Days and nights become as one
I have no damned life

Bad intonation
Strings are sharp and reeds are flat
Brass too loud again

Great changes, good groove
A one-in-a-million gig
No singer. Yippee!

An oxymoron:
"He played the accordion
With delicacy"

The accordion
"Squeeze box," yes, but more often
"The Stomach Steinway"

Bassoons forever
Try in vain not to sound like
A farting bedpost

The strings slowly tune
When they're done the unisons
Are anything but

"I can't find my note"
Bemoans the confused singer
"Quit now," we all pray

The contractor calls
Months of Andrew Lloyd Webber
"Bird Lives" no longer

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