Thoroughgood doesn't understand the meaning of the term "slow song;" he tears through every song as though his life depended on him playing as loud and hard as possible every second. Which makes for some damn fine entertainment, I must say--the man works the auidence very well, and his songs (even if we didn't know most of them) are great fun.
Clif brought back my guitar last night as well, which I was glad to have. I will say this much for having played his for a week--it makes playing mine much easier. So at least some good came of it.
Clif also brought the fan my grandfather had fixed for me. This fan needs a bit of backstory, though. I originally bought an oscillating pedestal fan my freshman or sophomore year at Ozarks, 'cause the dorm rooms were not well known for their great air circulation. It was a decent fan, especially for the price (I think I paid like $20 for it), and I kept it running virtually non-stop for three to three and a half years.
When I came to OU, the fan struggled a bit. I sent it to my grandfather, who managed to fix it up so it was in perfect working order again. I continued to use it all last summer, again rarely turning the thing off. When winter came around, I shut off my fans, assuming I'd just turn them on when it started getting warm again in April.
Well, one of my fans (one my grandfather had given to me the first time my fan died; it is significantly older and in great shape still, and it sits in my bedroom and runs constantly) started up first thing, but my old Ozarks pedestal fan did not. So I took it home a couple of weeks ago to see if my grandfather could fix it again.
Sadly, the engine for the fan had burnt out completely, and the fan was pronounced dead.
Enter the second fan, a cheap $10 box fan Clif and I bought in Bozeman, Montana, while we were staying in Yellowstone. It was a great investment for a room that had no climate control whatsoever (no heater, no A/C, nothing); we would set the fan in the window and let it suck in cool air from outside every night, to the point that one of us would inevitably have to wake up at some point in the night and turn off the fan because the room was too cold even when we used blankets.
So this box fan was just gathered dust in my parents' shed, and my grandfather dug it out and cleaned it up for me. This would have been plenty--the box fan would have circulated enough air in my computer room to make it a tolerable place. But my grandfather did not stop there. No, he took the pedestal from my old, kaput fan, and bolted the box fan onto it.
The resulting Frankenfan (which is my name for the creation) works wonders. In hindsight, I shouldn't be so surprised that my grandfather did something like that. I mean, he jury-rigs all sorts of bizarre solutions to mechanical problems all the time. I'm actually rather surprised that he didn't find a way to make this fan oscillate, but so it goes.
In fact, here's a picture I snapped of Frankenfan:
Please ignore the mess of boxes behind it. I am in the middle of getting ready to move, after all (which isn't why those boxes are there. No, those are there because I don't have enough room for all the crap I own in my closests, so I have to stack some boxes in the computer room. Such is life).
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Green Day, "Novacaine"
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