When I left my drums a few weeks ago they were in such high spirit. My drums in their new working environment were at ease.
The Lake City studio engineers had never heard such powerful drums. Pro Tools kept saying, Not bad for perfection. My drums and the Shure microphones shared a smoke after tracking.
Life was good for us both.
Saying goodbye:
As I hit the elevator button taking me up to street level I waved farewell to my drums.
I love my drums and started to say it out loud but but I just plain didnt have the guts to say it to their flawlessly grained faces. I think my drums may have recognized it already but like Billy Ward says thinking isnt knowing.
Side note: Navins motto, Thinking is glorified crap.
I pacified myself knowing Id have another chance in a few weeks. Or so I thought.
Monday Morning the Flooding begins in earnest:
My neighbors were hit first losing a computer, gigantic TV, important files, furniture, average TV, Barbie doll, family pictures, DVD player, silly putty, largest TV ever seen, expensive art, sewing machine, little TV etc.
Note: Sickening how many TVs they had just downstairs every respectable home should have no less than 6. chirp chirp
Our pump machine in the basement saved us but for a few inches in the well room.
My 5 acres runs from the Sammamish slough (north end of Lake Washington) to Burke Gilman trail. 4.6 acres are now wetlands with little fishies.
Monday Evening:
A Passing thought thumped me, Wonder how my drums are doing Surely they are solid in the hefty office buildings bottom floor.
This pacified me for a few moments before another thump and a side order of duh Forrest.
The bottom floor! The bottom floor!!
Bottom floor equals basement. Basement equals cellar. Cellar equals underground room. Underground room equals subterranean vault. Subterranean vault equals CRYPT!!! My Drums are in a crypt!! The red flag flew!
Before I could get to the phone it started ringing. I asked my wife if the ring sounded at all portentous.
As she flipped me off I answered.
A voice on the other end began straight away,
Forrest, prepare for shock. Your timeless timber exotics Well, they are now timeless soggy timber waterlogged exotics he continued to speak but I didnt hear a word.
I was bogged down becoming undone the reminiscing on the lost chance to express my affection to my drums hurt like a herd of Alaskan Grizzlies punching me square in the brain.
(Frozendiddle in Alaska is almost certainly thinking That description of how sloggy hurt was so meaty good it could feed a family of 5.)
This Holiday Season I implore my fellow drumming brothers/sisters and Navin to not make such a colossal blunder.
The imagery of my drums floating batter head down shows brighter today than yesterday. I cannot help but reflect if I had only said those three words they may have found the vigor to swim or at least bellow for aid.
Be right back to finish my thoughts the phone has been ringing off the hook.
Back now and WOW!! Insurance is coming through!!! Billy big time Ward coverage!! Nee HAAA!! What luck!! RIP drums!! Sucks to be you! Hello VLT!! Hello Birch!! Hello John Good!
Buying new drums is the best feeling
Moral: Telling your drums you love them lame dame sweet drummer Thomas Lang. Having insurance not lame dame sweet drummer Thomas Lang.
Life is Good!
Slog On, Forrest
Recent picture of me below. New chemo regime really pacing progression of aging. Looking old these days. Not so much Billy Ward 55 more like Bbunks 53. chirp chrip
The Lake City studio engineers had never heard such powerful drums. Pro Tools kept saying, Not bad for perfection. My drums and the Shure microphones shared a smoke after tracking.
Life was good for us both.
Saying goodbye:
As I hit the elevator button taking me up to street level I waved farewell to my drums.
I love my drums and started to say it out loud but but I just plain didnt have the guts to say it to their flawlessly grained faces. I think my drums may have recognized it already but like Billy Ward says thinking isnt knowing.
Side note: Navins motto, Thinking is glorified crap.
I pacified myself knowing Id have another chance in a few weeks. Or so I thought.
Monday Morning the Flooding begins in earnest:
My neighbors were hit first losing a computer, gigantic TV, important files, furniture, average TV, Barbie doll, family pictures, DVD player, silly putty, largest TV ever seen, expensive art, sewing machine, little TV etc.
Note: Sickening how many TVs they had just downstairs every respectable home should have no less than 6. chirp chirp
Our pump machine in the basement saved us but for a few inches in the well room.
My 5 acres runs from the Sammamish slough (north end of Lake Washington) to Burke Gilman trail. 4.6 acres are now wetlands with little fishies.
Monday Evening:
A Passing thought thumped me, Wonder how my drums are doing Surely they are solid in the hefty office buildings bottom floor.
This pacified me for a few moments before another thump and a side order of duh Forrest.
The bottom floor! The bottom floor!!
Bottom floor equals basement. Basement equals cellar. Cellar equals underground room. Underground room equals subterranean vault. Subterranean vault equals CRYPT!!! My Drums are in a crypt!! The red flag flew!
Before I could get to the phone it started ringing. I asked my wife if the ring sounded at all portentous.
As she flipped me off I answered.
A voice on the other end began straight away,
Forrest, prepare for shock. Your timeless timber exotics Well, they are now timeless soggy timber waterlogged exotics he continued to speak but I didnt hear a word.
I was bogged down becoming undone the reminiscing on the lost chance to express my affection to my drums hurt like a herd of Alaskan Grizzlies punching me square in the brain.
(Frozendiddle in Alaska is almost certainly thinking That description of how sloggy hurt was so meaty good it could feed a family of 5.)
This Holiday Season I implore my fellow drumming brothers/sisters and Navin to not make such a colossal blunder.
The imagery of my drums floating batter head down shows brighter today than yesterday. I cannot help but reflect if I had only said those three words they may have found the vigor to swim or at least bellow for aid.
Be right back to finish my thoughts the phone has been ringing off the hook.
Back now and WOW!! Insurance is coming through!!! Billy big time Ward coverage!! Nee HAAA!! What luck!! RIP drums!! Sucks to be you! Hello VLT!! Hello Birch!! Hello John Good!
Buying new drums is the best feeling
Moral: Telling your drums you love them lame dame sweet drummer Thomas Lang. Having insurance not lame dame sweet drummer Thomas Lang.
Life is Good!
Slog On, Forrest
Recent picture of me below. New chemo regime really pacing progression of aging. Looking old these days. Not so much Billy Ward 55 more like Bbunks 53. chirp chrip
I don't think waterlogged drums would be any match for Sloggy and those BIG sticks!! 