karmic calamity

Cleaning House

Funny thing happened to me awhile back.

A lonnnng time ago, I'd written a blog entry about the night that a bunch of us wrote a song for our friend Betty, former bartender of the former bar formerly known as the Pit, where we formerly spent most of our free time.

We met a guy there named Richard Alexander-- I dubbed him the Pianist of Doom. Richard is a cool guy, incredibly gregarious and extroverted, who helped us write our quickly cobbled together song and played the thing with us when we dragged Betts out to the lobby to hear it.

It was a fun night, everybody had quite a few, and quite a bit of banter (and more drinking) followed. Richard recently contacted me after having been pointed to the blog entry by a friend of his, and let me know that he felt that he came off looking like a goof in the story. I didn't think so, but Richard was bent about it, so I took it down.

Frankly, I'm surprised that anybody actually read the blog.

Anyway, if you're reading this Richard, sorry. Like I told you in the email I sent, it certainly wasn't my intention to piss you off. If you have a website or a myspace or something I can link to, please do send it to me, and I'll post it here.

And next time you're in Phoenix, hit me up. I'll buy you a beer and hopefully we'll have a laugh about it. We just can't go to the Pit, it's a dorm now. Ugh!

posted by Dale Ingram @ 1:02 PM