On The Road With Al And Ivy: A Literary Homeless Blog - Dec. 2022

"Who has not known a journey to be over and dead before the traveler returns? The reverse is also true: many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased."

- John Steinbeck (Travels With Charley 1962)

THREE BOOKS: Steinbeck's Travels With Charley, Robert Graves' Wife To Mr. Milton, and Boswell's Life Of Samuel Johnson.

I kept reading books in 2016; thanks to my eReaders, it was possible to be a homeless guy with a big library. Three books influenced my own work, "On The Road With Al & Ivy: The Novel (Book 1)," in different ways. 

I talked about John Steinbeck's Travels With Charley in an earlier blog entry that discussed classics relating to homelessness and my opinion, as it still is now, that it was a travelogue that would relate to those who've chosen the Van or RV life.

Travelogues have been around for a long time. The great ones are more than just a description of places and people; they tend to be meditations about life and philosophy.

I intended to revisit Steinbeck's book as it profoundly influenced my decision to write a book about homelessness, even if it didn't directly relate to the current state of the problem. He was not only a great writer but had a sensibility that combined populist notions with an intellectual underpinning that you often don't see these days. 

Also, he wrote without fear; the writing goes where he wants it to go, asks questions, and examines answers without concern for approval or whether the discussion is even on the right track (for others). That results in thoughts that now seem profound, even if it was just an exploratory digression or comment at the time. 

The quote that leads this essay off is one example of that. It struck me at the time as deep, and six years down the line, it expresses my feelings about the homeless period in 2016 and how words can express it.

…a return to Salinas…

One of the key chapters was his visit to Salinas, California. It was his hometown and the setting for some of his most famous works. It had changed a lot, and I'd imagine what it looks like now would make it seem like a colony on Mars or something. 

In book two of my series, my shift to Salinas was also a homecoming. I was a Korean War baby, and my father married my mother, a Japanese national in Tokyo, and after his enlistment, he shipped back to the States with his wife and one-year-old child, which was me.

They settled in Salinas. It goes without saying that I don't remember a lick of that time and only know it through photographs, but my return was just as evocative as Steinbeck's, albeit for different reasons.

My interest in the book is how it affected my perception of the journey in 2016 and his astute observations about displacement and what a journey is. That evoked many memories from the past. 

…government…

Steinbeck's attitude towards Government that it didn't care much for individuals in the book was relevant to my experience. There was plenty of talk about services and how people assumed that the homeless could go here or there to get help, which was sort of kinda maybe true.

The fact is, most of the services are generally swamped, can't keep up with demand, and put most applicants on waiting lists (which is encouraged as it gives the agency a case for more funding). Except in the case of Country Services, which can at least do something, most agencies were a non-factor for most of the people I met.

My accounts of life in homeless shelters will run counter to the public perception. The passages might be similar to what you hear on social media, but I made it a point not to use any material from those sources.

The reason is that I had firsthand accounts. It was better to use that source material and limit it to the actual shelters talked about so it wouldn't be interpreted as a general description of the system. Novel or not, it's essential to keep certain aspects of a book as authentic (and fair) as possible.

Some cities, like San Francisco, had more funding, but I, along with others, avoided those scenes. The homeless there were a different demographic, and the money that flowed into the services there often attracted drug dealers and other criminal organizations.

Scenes like SF are what the media mainly sees and writes about for one crucial reason; those homeless can't hide and have nowhere to go. Down in the South Bay, most of those lucky enough to have vehicles did their best to stay out of sight.

The reason for avoiding publicity is described in all three books of this series; once the media covers a camp or enclave, it comes under attack within days. Citizens start complaining to the police and city governments, who generally know about it but know that the numbers are now too big to do anything more than shift the problem elsewhere (and anger nearby cities). Any crackdown will scatter the inhabitants.

…the old school solution…

In the olden days, the Government could just put transients in covered wagons and point them west to buy, steal or squat on Mexican or Native American land or put them to work building railroads. Of course, there's nowhere to go now; every inch of soil in America is private or public property and liability laws severely punish anyone who'd let the homeless on it.

…back to the media…

But back to the media...most of the coverage of the homeless problem is well-intentioned, but some aren't. Some of the stories help developers and business owners by identifying gatherings that become the focus of a wide array of public and private parties.

Like any situation, the truth is complex, and if one sticks to the surface issues, then it's all about public safety and such things. To be fair, there are subcultures within the homeless population that don't help matters by their behavior. However, to be fair again, some so-called troublemakers can't help it due to mental illness. That's a book in itself.

…the reflection in the mirror…

I've made one artistic decision that could be criticized: my books will only reflect what I experienced or heard firsthand. There isn't going to be any attempt to make these volumes a definitive account of the homeless problem in this country. 

It's only going to describe the scene in those areas covered in the book. Several times, I've made the point that the homeless population is diverse and how it behaves depends on local factors. For example, a transient in the Midwest has to live differently than one in California.

On the other hand, historical, sociological, and even philosophical factors create commonalities. The best way to make a book that a person in Chicago can relate to is to tell my own story and trust that readers, both homeless and not, can see the underlying connections and similarities.

Simply preaching or explaining can't do that. I know that because there's plenty of that going on, and it's never helped, and the problem has only worsened over time.

…how it does relate…

John Steinbeck's Travels With Charley was a work that, on the surface, doesn't relate to the current homeless problem. But, as Jack London astutely pointed out in his writing on the homeless, a wealthy writer who can walk away from that life isn't truly going to understand the problem.

Like London's, Steinbeck's book was about a wealthy sightseer's adventures. However, a writer with his genius will add a layer of insight that can deeply affect and influence another, who, in my case, read it while being homeless, was resigned to that life, and was wondering if he was mentally ill like many of the commentators and experts were saying the chronic homeless are.

…finding identity…

Travels With Charley was one of the books that examined my self-image, that is, what I thought I was and what my real self was. Somewhere in that confusing time, that and other books helped bring about the realization that one of my primary identities was as a writer. 

Steinbeck's book was conceived as a journal of a road trip and veered towards a novel because, as a great writer, he saw a lot of detail and nuance that had to go into the work. Being a writer isn't just about cranking out words; the best ones see things that others can't or won't, much like a painter or musician does. There's more to a painting or song than meets the eye.

One change I directly credit to Steinbeck; my WIP at the time was an unfinished epic-style poem about a migrant musician who traveled to Chicago in the postwar era. I realized that the poems depicted the cycle of my own life at the time and that the work needed to be based on real life and, other than the fictionalization necessary in a novel, shouldn't be a stylized intellectualized work.

In other words, once the situation became clear, my art had to be about what I saw and felt. Steinbeck's early books were about people he knew or saw, not literary creations from research or just made up. There's a lot of truth, and that's why his books survive as classics.

Graves' Wife To Mr. Milton and Boswell's The Life Of Samuel Johnson:

These two works also directly influenced my book, though not due to the subject matter. Graves' book was a fictional biography of the great poet and writer Milton who wrote "Paradise Lost," an epic poem written in free verse that described Satan's expulsion from Heaven. The portrayal of the rebellious Angel and, later in the work, of Eve ran counter to popular images at the time.

What was interesting about the book was that Milton was described through his wife's eyes. That allowed Graves to add a more personal view of the subject than a conventional historical biography. As a result, one could add more details about Milton's personality and flaws that might be considered irrelevant to a portrait of the man.

That approach also moves the work into the realm of a novel which can, like his book "I, Claudius," read as a gossipy tract that's perhaps short on historical accuracy but does a better job of making Milton appear human, almost like you're in the room with him.

…the ultimate…

Boswell's biography of Samuel Johnson was one of the ultimate biographies from a firsthand account. The author was a close friend and recorded an epic amount of Johnson's conversations during an era when dinner and party chats were an art form. That's not a lost art, that sort of thing later evolved into literary salon groups or scenes like Andy Warhol's The Factory.

The Life Of Samuel Johnson was unique because it was an eyewitness account from someone who knew and admired the subject, who trusted the biographer enough to allow full access and not attempt to filter his behavior or conversations. Plus, great men tend to have thicker skins.

That's not a small thing. These days most biographies are written in a tightly controlled environment, spawning a sub-genre of unauthorized works that purport to contain what the subject doesn't want the public to see. They say the truth is always somewhere in the middle, a territory rarely explored by the two bio styles.

Boswell's book was two things that are rare in this day and age; a book about a person who was interesting (in his era at least) and possessed an intellect that produced intelligent observations that were worth reading. Of course, Johnson's remarks could provoke extremes of admiration or anger, and he probably would have been canceled by the modern internet. But, given his personality, he probably would have been amused by that.

Both these books had ways of doing the same thing; giving me a literary device or approach that would permit adding a third-person view that could deepen the portrait of the main character without having him rattle off a stream of angst that would not only be boring to the reader but take the fun out of writing the book. That first-person internal thing has been done for decades and these days often veers into shtick.

I've mentioned in past blogs that some of the episodes in my book would switch back and forth between first and third person. These two books were a clinic for filling out a person's portrait without resorting to long descriptions. In a way, it's almost like how the camera in a movie can move from shot to shot, yet it creates a single image in the viewer's mind.

We'll see how I pull it off in my book. If it doesn't work, don't blame Robert Graves or Boswell; they knew what they were doing.

- Al Handa

On to the reprint of episode one of On The Road With Al &Ivy: The Novel (Book 1). I'll probably give it a title by the official launch in January 2023.

Intro to Episode One:

Steinbeck found that the relationship with his dog Charley deepened and even allowed for some of the interaction to be self-dialogue, a friendship that grew deeper.

The same happened with my dog Ivy. For example, my concern for her welfare overrode my discouragement one day when I ended up at a Psychiatric Emergency facility. I was eager to accept the 30-day hold, to finally get good sleep and meds and have a respite from the homeless life. It was a seductive thought.

I remember the day it was around 10 am when the papers to sign for the voluntary hold was put before me. I mentioned that in 30 minutes, the shade would move, and I needed to get Ivy out of the car before then. I was told it would be the doctor's decision and that it might take hours.

The counselor was as uncomfortable as I was about the situation and suggested I take care of it before signing. However, once I got to the car, I realized that whatever happened, it would have to be with the both of us, and I drove off. 

As fate would have it, the shock of realizing that I almost abandoned Ivy in the car cleared my head, and a temporary solution came to mind that worked. That's in book 2, which also has a prequel that runs alongside the main narrative and explains the level of friendship depicted in book 2.

The incident at Psychiatric Emergency was the abyss, and my friendship with Ivy kept me from jumping in. I think most who own a beloved pet would understand. Admittance meant a 30-day hold and complete control by the doctor and facility. It's a serious matter, and the book passages should make a person think twice before advocating involuntary holds. 

…crisis mode…

That idea or notion that in a crisis, that one has to choose to stay engaged in everyday life, even if it's difficult, is a concept covered in depth in all three books. Again, there's an array of characters who come to a crossroads and have to decide whether to head toward life or death. 

That may sound dramatic but for example, a decision to dull the pain with drugs is a dangerous step in that environment, especially for a female, and nothing like just getting too stoned at a party. You'll see that all the book characters were on a path requiring desperate choices. 

The situations are described as dispassionately as possible. It's easy to judge or accept media labels of homeless being predominantly mentally ill or drug users. That's not what I found in my experience, but my task was to relate what I saw.

The novel format allows me to describe it in starker detail because I can fictionalize the people and hide their identities. I accept that my account can be characterized as a pure invention. 

… about the first episode… 

So, Episode One, which is called "Prelude And Arrival," opens with a short vignette about Ivy and me that illustrates our friendship and then moves into my arrival one night in Gilroy, California. 

The main character, obviously based on me, looks over the place as a homeless person who's had a few months of experience under his belt and thinks he's a pretty streetwise kind of guy.

The chapter establishes the character's personality, sets the scene, and gives an initial glimpse of his friendship with Ivy. Also, other characters are introduced.

Over the following chapters, it'll become clear that it was the calm before the storm. The time in Gilroy was a disaster and nearly condemned the main character to life as a "backpacker" who had to live on foot and would shortly lose all of his possessions and Ivy if that happened.

I consider it one of the best chapters and hope you'll enjoy reading it and continue on to the rest of the book.

EPISODE ONE: PRELUDE AND ARRIVAL

Prelude: March 2016

It's a crisp, clear night in the coffee house parking lot. Ivy and I finish our walk, and since there's no hurry to get back to the car, we sit on a curb and look up at the stars.

It's time for Ivy's astronomy lesson. She loves hearing my descriptions of celestial formations with names like steak, macaroni, and cheese and her favorite, baked chicken. The textbook names are gone now, along with my old life that died on a cold February night when we hit the road with whatever would fit into an old Cadillac.

"See where the big steak is, Ivy?" I'd say, "Off to the right of the Big Chili Cheese Dog (formally known as the North Star), you'll probably get there before me."

I put my hand on her furry head and add, "Wait for me up there, and I'll join you soon; my time on earth will be a blink of an eye where you'll be." Ivy nods, still looking up at the steak and hamburgers in the sky, and begins to hum, her sound for agreement, and I say, "I'll look forward to telling you how the rest of my life went."

Ivy wags her tail, her biggest smile, and as we head back to the car, I pray that I'll be around for the rest of her life... don't want to miss that.

Our friendship is no longer a world of man-made constructs and roles; to obey commands, do tricks, and amuse. Instead, I realized that we both peer into the same life and give her the same right to live it as any human. We navigate as a pack, a family, and give each other the love we lost when the past turned dark and died. As Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "Home is where you love."

An Opening Similitude...

The kind night beckons, and I enter until the morning sun melts away the dark sea I drift in.

- Jook Manuscript Excerpt (June 1986)

Arrival: June 2016

Gilroy in July is a hot, dusty rural town full of summer trouble, a homeless paradise full of blind spots from the police who have their hands full dealing with illegal fireworks, tweakers, parking lot parties, and overheated tourists.

It's the summer of 2016. I arrive around nine, well after dark, but the day's heat hasn't fully faded. It's still 80 degrees and very humid. I usually don't think in terms of names or places. "Here" is just this or that parking lot or Street. I'm part of the homeless herd, who could care less if the people are friendly or if there's a history. We look for fleeting seams that open up in the fabric of society to hide in and move on when it closes. The feeling of movement, of wandering, soothes the sting of being homeless, which is felt at every stop.

But tonight, I know where I am, in Gilroy, the "Garlic Capitol Of The World," a town I hadn't seen in decades and barely recognize because of the new shopping centers and business parks that cover what used to be farmland. This place, if it were a living, breathing thing, would hardly recognize me either. Part of my childhood was spent next door in San Martin, a farm town full of talking animals and brave toy soldiers who protected fearful little babes like me and told me that the future was full of possibilities and adventure.

I'm now an old man of sixty-four, one year from retirement. There are no toy soldiers to protect me, and the future I was told about, well, it came and went and left me in an uncertain present. At least fate left me a talking animal, Ivy, who must be wondering now what kind of man she's hitched her star to.

I know what I see here, though, even in the dark. It's a side road called Gleemon. There are two areas to be aware of; the Street and adjacent lots and the chain link fence that runs along the levee road for Miller Slough and the back area of the Big Dupermart store. That's the border of the known world. Once past it, there's the pitch-black void inhabited by druggies, runaways, and "backpackers," who have camps and open-air crash pads along the dirt road that connects with the south fork of a river, orchards and the water pumping station next to a Highway.

The Street has a secret. It's technically a court, but it's also the main delivery entrance for SuperMart. The store and the city claim it belongs to the other, so neither will kick the homeless off it because whoever does will own the Street and all its problems. Also, truckers who arrive ahead of schedule park and sleep there unless they prefer to go to the truck stop-motel a couple of miles to the north. Most don't because the services for out-of-towers will gladly come to them.

So there's plenty of vehicles parked here, twenty-four hours a day. That makes it a seam to hide in. The old timers in RVs only stay for short periods; they prefer the frontage road on the other side of the freeway, away from streetlights, generator noise, and sounds of fights, or to go to a private place to chew each other up after being cooped up for years in small, crowded boxes on wheels.

It's good manners not to stay in one place too long anyway. So most move along a circuit of four, maybe five locations, which keeps them out of the cop's hair and away from the idiots who camp in a place until kicked out for doing some silly-ass thing or another.

My own list of havens are identified by geographic features; the parking lot of the Hispanic grocery, the south end of the Big Dupermart lot, and Gleemon Street. That's only three; if I have to keep moving, I head south down Highway 101 to Salinas or north up 280 to the Crystal Springs rest stop.

I haven't bothered to learn any other street names, but I know the terrain better than any resident. This area averages 90 degrees during the summer. I know where the best shade is and at what time. It's like reading a sundial. I know the free wifi coverage of every parking lot as if it were marked out with spray paint, how to tell when it's safe for the homeless to park, and where each subculture that lives here is centered. Each group has transit routes as busy as any street, and it's best to park well away from those unmarked paths.

Ivy, my little white shitzu friend, and I sit in the car and just watch. We function as one person. Ivy handles hearing and smell, and I've learned to trust her, particularly at night when trouble seems to come out of nowhere.

It's still too hot, but open windows draw attention and turn me into a "face," someone to approach. Since my anxiety meds ran out, I keep the boogieman at bay with tried and true remedies like nervous tics, pulling an earlobe, or twisting hair into string. It helps me to sit still, able to wait until the night reveals what's going on. You never go right to sleep, ever.

In nature, the night is the most dangerous time, when half of the world sleeps, and the rest hunts. The night is an ageless God like the sea, an elemental force that's merciless if you don't respect it, yet it shelters and protects the lost, rejected, and trapped from everything but themselves.

If a night hunter has a beef with you, there's no fuss or fight. They just wait until you go to sleep to kick ass. That's why there's so much activity at night; for many of the homeless, particularly the elderly and loners, it's safer to wait until early morning to shelter and sleep, so they keep moving aimlessly like sleepwalkers with their packs or shopping carts until the safe stillness comes around 4 am.

I can't do that with a car; it's not practical to drive all night. I have to try and get some rest. You can't sleep in the 90-degree heat that starts at nine in the morning. I'll risk a short nap parked under shade, but if I get careless and sleep too long, the shade moves, and I can wake up to a dead dog. It's better not to nap at all, but after five months of lousy sleep, I either steal a snooze now and then or risk hallucinating due to sleep deprivation.

That happened up north a month ago. I came to a dead stop at two in the morning on Interstate 280 because I thought a bunch of trees had come down and blocked the freeway, and I was nearly rear-ended by several cars. I had to force myself to keep driving even though the road appeared to end at the edge of a cliff. Oddly enough, the headlong charge into the void was a peaceful moment, like I welcomed death. After that, I quit screwing around with trying to stay in motion all night.

I study the people who walk along the fence and duck into some bushes next to a small grove of trees. That's where the hole is, the north entrance into the levee. Three young men arrive, pushing mountain bikes, part of a gang of feral Droogs that makes most of its money as low-level drug runners. That gets my full attention, as they'll attack and rob other homeless unless the dealer is there to hold them off. If those sociopaths were hopped up and coming out to hunt instead of going in, it'd be time to scoot.

Two young women arrive next, pausing a moment before going in. One is a redhead I call "Sign Girl" and a skinny blond in a long hippie-type dress called "Raspberry." They stop talking and enter with their flashlights turned off, a smart move when chemically impaired men are around.

The unwritten rule is to avoid using any lights or lighting open fires on that side of the fence. The city owns the area, and any sign of a camp will be checked out by the cops, not to mention attracting the attention of everyone around. How they know it's safe to enter is an instinct that develops quickly after the first assault, or if they're lucky, attempted assault.

A patrol car approaches, and a blinding white light suddenly turns night into day. I close my eyes, slowly put my hands on the steering wheel and wait for the searchlight beam to move on to the next car. It doesn't, and now enough sirens are wailing to drown out the RV and truck generators. Cops rarely hold a beam in your face. There's a hot flash of fear as I realize they're checking faces.

They're looking for somebody!

END OF EPISODE 1

LINK TO EPISODE 2: POLICE MANHUNT AND A VISIT FROM A GOD

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/episode/B0BMLTB9NM

- Al HANDA

deltasnake@yahoo.com

BE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE DELTA SNAKE REVIEW ON THIS SAME SITE!

Here's an update on each of my Vella books:

The Quitters

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B09PC3L6PC

It's the first book, and after ten months, it's finally developing an audience, and the stats are trending upward this month. I think it's due to the blog and the new book/music video short format I'm using for its promotion. I’ve moved the plot lines away from potentially over technical descriptions of playing live to more emphasis on the personalities and in particular, the main character Nym. Also, some of the romance elements are now coming into play.

It's at 31 episodes, though as an ebook, we're talking maybe 15 traditional-length chapters. I'm keeping the format episodic and short, kind of like a weekly TV show, which works for Vella but will need to be restructured for the ebook.

I, Ivy

 https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0B3RCBT4D

The story got off to a decent start, but I didn't notice that as it's obvious now that the daily totals on the Vella dashboard can differ or not jibe with the monthly or overall total, which have to be accurate as those numbers determine the royalty and bonus payouts. I'll be paying more attention to this one in November, as it’s being read more than I thought. The latest chapter, Ivy’s view of the efforts by a human to give her a pill should strike a familiar chord.

The Forbidden Lost Gospels Of Murgatroyde

 https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJ2TW4P1

This is a new one, though it'll be the most familiar to blog readers. I'll be changing the format of the blog in November, and putting the Lost Gospels here will allow me to fully expand that line of humor and satire in a way that simply being a blog feature doesn't permit.

The Boogie Underground Think Tank: How To Survive The End Of Civilization

 https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BG6LNXTG

This one is a revival of an old humor column I ran in my old "Delta Snake Blues News" publication in the 90s and 2000s. The slant is about survival in the upcoming hard times, but it really will be topical and cover subjects that are offbeat but relevant. The next one coming in a few days will be "How To Shop For The Perfect Expert," which obviously will be a humorous commentary on the use of experts in general.

The Adventures Of Queen Khleopahtra: Ruler Of Egypt, Time Traveler, and Literary Detective

 https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJC122G7

This is another new one and will be a fun fusion of the old "Peabody and Sherman" cartoon, which was about a time-traveling dog and boy, Robert Graves' often satirical take on history, and the old "Fractured Fairy Tales" cartoon that used to be featured on the "Rocky And Bullwinkle Show." 

I chose Khleopahtra as the main character because it will offer the widest range of literary situations to explore, and I happened to have a cool drawing of her and liked the idea of expanding the character. After reading the first episode, you'll agree that the possibilities are endless.

In the latest episodes, we meet Achilles and the poet Homer, who will become recurring characters!

- Al Handa

   October 2022

   ontheroadwithalandiivy@yahoo.com

The ebook “On The Road With Al & Ivy: The Anthology Volume 1 2016-2018 is now on Kindle Unlimited!

I’ll run free promotions later this month, but members can read it for free now.

I Can Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw International). F IPlease check out and listen to Mark McGraw’s Christmas single from his album on Bandcamp,Can

Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw Intern

https://markmcgraw.bandcamp.com/album/songs-from-southern-pacific-spur-46

Please check out and listen to my music on Spotify, YouTube, Apple Music and other music sites. Please add any cuts you like to your playlists!

The Delta Snake Review - A Music And Arts Blog - Dec. 3, 2022

THREE REVIEWS FROM THE DELTA SNAKE ARCHIVES: VOL. ONE

NOTE: VOL. 2 COMING SOON. THIS ISSUE WILL HAVE THAT LINK WHEN ITS LIVE.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014 (Revised Dec. 3, 2022)

(Model: Klaudia)

No. 1: Are American-made guitars really better?

As a general rule, American-made guitars, particularly electrics, are better made and of higher quality (There are important exceptions, but for the purposes of this essay, we'll stick to the generality).

The reason isn't that Americans are better at making guitars. It's about cost.

It's because America uses foreign factories to make the lower-priced economy models. When making first-line guitars for their own market, countries like Japan generally make guitars that are as good as American ones.

One example is Stevie Ray Vaughn. He played some Japanese Stratocasters before signing an endorsement deal with Fender. The main reason was that Fender wasn't producing guitars in the United States for about a decade or so. It was after the infamous "CBS era" when that company bought Fender in the early 70s.

The CBS-era guitars were criticized for various quality issues. For example, players and critics characterized the sound of the Telecaster back pickups as an "ice pick" tone. In lay terms, a sound that's like a flat-sounding, high-pitched tone similar to, perhaps, a buzzer or trumpet blast. That's the best way I can describe it.

In 2023, those complaints about the CBS era have faded away, and those 70s models have become vintage classics with a sound no modern version can duplicate (and priced accordingly).

During the 80s, Gibson was owned by a Norlin company, and that era was also considered a low point.

During that era, Japanese companies like Tokai, Burney, and Ibanez flooded the market with lower-cost, high-quality (and low-quality) copies of Gibsons and Fenders, the best examples of which have become collector's items today.

That was known as the "lawsuit era," where overseas companies had to stop copying the Gibson headstock. It's since become an era that's developed a whole set of myths, where every Japanese guitar made then was superior and of legendary quality.

I won't go into it here, as it's a subject that really should be discussed in a separate blog as it's a long story in itself.

…quality costs…

The fact is that a guitar made overseas will be as good as the contractor/customer wants it to be. This is because the guitars are manufactured to a particular specification and budget, not because somebody wants to make an inferior guitar. 

All things being equal in terms of materials and craftsmanship, one of the primary reasons an American guitar is more expensive is labor cost.

One good example was a particular limited-edition budget guitar line Gibson came out with several years ago at $500 each. The guitars were crude, the paint job cheaply applied, the fretboard was baked maple instead of Rosewood, and the only sign that it was a real Gibson was that each had a single stock pickup and the distinctive headstock shape Gibson has patented.

You could've removed that stock pickup and put it in a Korean-made Epiphone of the same body shape, and you would have had a better guitar for $200 less (or more).

It was funny reading the various reviews for that line of Gibson guitars. The reviewers stressed the simplicity, that it was for players, not collectors, and that it was a Gibson. In other words, they walked a fine line between telling the truth and not saying something that would cause Gibson to pull ads from their pubs.

The guitar forums were more entertaining. The opinions varied between those who were happy to have a Gibson at a low price, those who saw that if it could be had cheaper (like when Gibson reduced the price to 300) that it wasn't a bad "fun" guitar and those who brutally pointed out that the production shortcuts produced a guitar that was a worse value than their cheaper Epiphone line.

I should add that I briefly owned one at the 300.00 price but gratefully took advantage of the store's 30-day return policy. Nowadays, you can get a decent guitar with tone controls, two pickups for that amount, and an excellent one at 500.00.

… Fender's big gamble…

Fender was one of the first major American companies, at least the main one that most American guitar players cared about, which was willing to put out a foreign-made guitar with its logo.

Their cheaper Squier line was already manufactured overseas, but around the 90s, the first Mexican-made fenders appeared. Those guitars were cheaply made and didn't sound particularly good. However, the price was certainly right, particularly for those who knew how to upgrade a guitar.

There was some of the usual contempt from some in the guitar community, but Fender continually improved the process and created several lower-line Fenders and Squires that all but the most hardline have accepted as exceptional values in each price range. They helped make the mid-range price market competitive with models that cost more.

Fender could do this because its customers have a different culture than Gibson owners. Fenders are intended to be affordable quality made assembly-line guitars, screwed and bolted together, allowing users to mix-and-match parts.

…on the Gibson side…

The Gibson culture values a guitar that is a top-quality American guitar with no equals. Of course, companies like PRS and Fender would dispute that, but there's no denying that Gibsons are like Harleys. It doesn't have to be better; the name has that much cachet in the United States.

Gibson kept their economy lines separate, with Epiphone being the leading brand, which is ironic, as that company was a major competitor with Gibson, particularly in the hollow body guitar lines. Gibson is American-made (though not always 100% US parts), and the Epiphone line varies from high-end products made by Japanese and Korean manufacturers to lower-end models made in China and Indonesia.

…in the 60s…

In the 60s, you could say that a Japanese-made guitar (for export) was inferior to an American one. However, most of those companies didn't try to be better, as the idea was to capture the low-end market (though many of those models are now worth over a grand in the vintage market).

As Japanese guitar makers got better, they got more expensive. So the next generation came from Korea, and the usual denigration began again.

…now to China…

The ironic thing is when production shifted to China and Indonesia, guitar players began to value Japanese and Korean guitars as if those were the good old days, and the perception of Japanese craftsmanship rose even higher.

But like I said, when these countries decide to build a good guitar, they're certainly capable of it. One good example is jazz great George Benson's Ibanez, who also makes guitars that are favored by the metal crowd.

…the American Way…

America is a more affluent country than most, so we have strange ideas about guitars and guitar-making. Most American guitar players seem to assume a certain superiority in American craftsmanship, and our attitude that a $400 guitar is only adequate for beginners would probably make many musicians worldwide roll their eyes.

We're one of the few cultures that think if you buy a guitar at a certain price, it will make you that level of good, even if some of the most legendary music England and America ever produced was recorded using cheap or catalog quality instruments.

The fact is the world can make instruments just fine, thank you.

Any good flamenco guitarist will want one made in Spain. There are probably plenty of good luthiers in the United States that can make a decent flamenco guitar, but if they opened up shop in Spain, they'd find that there are centuries of subtleties in the craftsmanship that they don't know.

Guitarists who look down on Chinese guitar makers forget that the Japanese had the same learning curve in the 60s, and they are making excellent guitars now.

The Chinese now make nice guitars, which shouldn't be surprising, given that their culture made vases centuries ago that are now worth millions. A markup that would turn any red-blooded American capitalist green with envy and make computer software makers nod their heads in approval.

The primary value of an American guitar is that it's made better with finer materials. If you gave the same budget and materials to a Japanese maker, I'm sure most guitar players these days would admit that they would come out with an instrument that is just as good and cheaper to boot.

One of the reasons the Asian guitar companies haven't tried to take on Gibson is that, as a rule, they don't want to. The idea that the average American wants to pay over $2000 for a first-line guitar is a philosophy that would put most guitar makers out of business fast. The meat of the industry is in the 300 to 1000 range.

…purity…

Plus, not all Gibsons are 100% American anymore. Some of their acoustic line was made in Canada, where good quality wood is still cheap. I'm sure the reasons why a Canadian-made guitar seems perfectly fine with the Gibson crowd run the garment from the apparent quality to stereotypes about Asian factories (compared to ones in the Western Hemisphere).

…the Les Paul…

For example, aspiring Gibson Les Paul owners can check out opinions about the guitar in the various guitar forums about that type, not just the ones dealing with or hosted by Gibson.

A Gibson Les Paul isn't a complicated guitar to make. In fact, except for the fact that the neck is glued on and the top layer requires some shaping, it's as simple as any Fender, which is why it's one of the most imitated and counterfeited guitars in the world.

Many players say that if you find a Les Paul copy made with the same craftsmanship and materials and stick Gibson pickups in it, you probably will have a guitar that's as good as Gibson makes. Plus, more than a few Gibson owners don't like the stock pickups either and replace those as soon as possible.

That's my opinion; I'm only as right or wrong as the next guy. I have owned Les Pauls and liked some, hated others.

…craftsmanship…

Craftsmanship does count. A lower-line Epiphone copy that is well made can play better than a Gibson made by a worker who might've been at less than top efficiency that day or passed and approved by a careless QA inspector. That goes for guitars as much as tables or anything made of wood. Even with a lot of the CNC-made guitars, care in the assembly and manufacturer is a factor.

My point of view in guitar reviews is that whether it was American-made is only one of the factors. However, it's undoubtedly important, as there's no denying that an American guitar has an aura about it that can't always be quantified. 

As a matter of disclosure, I own some American-made instruments at this writing. To be exact, two electric guitars, a 12-string, and a banjo. The banjo was made in the 30s, but the other two are modern American electric guitars (Note: my instrument lineup is different in 2023).

…in conclusion…

One recent development is the proliferation of super cheap guitars, mainly from China, that can start as low as one hundred dollars (or even below). For that sum, you can get a replica of any classic model like a Les Paul, Telecaster, or Strat.

That's not surprising. When mainstream guitars get too expensive, that leaves a big opening for those who make economy guitars. As US manufacturers moved from country to country to find cheap labor, they left behind subcontractors with equipment and guitar-making expertise who needed a new market. 

Those cheap Chinese guitars being reviewed and hawked on YouTube were probably made by the same people who made lower-line Epiphones, Gretsch, or Squiers before the manufacturing moved to Indonesia. This is a win-win situation as there will always be players who want a reasonably priced guitar, to own more than one, or to have a cheap platform for upgrades to create a dream guitar.

My opinion on buying an American guitar is that if it gives you what you want, it's worth it. Paying more because it was American-made certainly is a valid reason, but I wouldn't pay more simply because it's an American guitar.

Paying 200 or 300 more because a guitar is American-made is patriotic; paying a thousand or more is just a crass exercise in capitalism.

Guitar Review: 2016 Fender MIM Standard Telecaster (review and essay - Revised in 2022)

I remember my first Telecaster, purchased from a friend for its new price, 250.00. It was a 1971 CBS-era Standard with fretwork done and a rewound front pickup. The back pickup produced a typical CBS-era ice pick sound, but that wasn't a concern as I preferred to use the front pickup with the treble cranked up (which has been my preference since then).

It wasn't my first guitar, which was an old Gold top Les Paul that I hated, but it was the one that created a connection that lasted 20 years, and to this day, my primary guitar is always a telecaster. Of course, that could change if Gibson ever creates an affordable SG with a shorter scale that won't neck dive. But even then, a tele would always be kept on hand.

One of the things guitar shop salesmen said back then (and was described in reviews) was that the Fender Telecaster was the cheapest "pro-level guitar" you could buy. For 250.00, a musician had a "serious" gig-quality instrument. 

That wasn't entirely true. With many underpowered PA systems, a big professional amp was also necessary back then, but the psychological effect was real. If you played a Fender, you had graduated from playing with toys.

Whether a Fender was American made wasn't as big an issue as it is now. The main controversy was whether CBS buying the company was good, and there was plenty of criticism of the stock pickups, neck quality, and various QA issues. All of which have been subject to revisionism in today's vintage-loving age.

There was a short period when the only new Fenders available were made in Japan, and those are esteemed today as excellent values even at collector prices. That's because Fender was never viewed as a premium product by most of its customers, and where it was made was a secondary issue for a small minority.

Leo Fender designed the Telecaster to be a cheap appliance guitar that would make it possible for the masses to own a decent instrument. The parts were standardized, designed to be easily replaced to keep the guitar operational for a lifetime, and, just as importantly, could be easily repaired or modified by its owner.

I'm sure even the first Ford Model T cars were constantly tinkered with due to the ingrained restlessness of the American character. However, with the electric guitar, that urge to modify it didn't truly become possible until a third-party parts market emerged.

Fender moved the guitar away from the concept of a crafted piece that reflected a central artistic philosophy (or price range, of course) and into the realm of industrial design and mass production, customizable to even the smallest whim of the customer.

 

The Telecaster is perceived differently after a few decades. One remarkable thing is that the Fender guitars that were designed to be more expensive models, like the Jazzmaster and Jaguar, are now considered esoteric. Those two were also promoted as equal to the later Stratocaster model, which was to be the next big thing.

It's been said that the true test in the marketplace is survival, and the Tele has certainly met that test. It's no longer seen as an entry-level guitar for the pro market, which is reflected in the current price of the American-made version. Even if it still costs less than a Gibson or a PRS, it's not a cheap guitar anymore.

That is unless you buy one of the Mexican or Asian-made models. Then a telecaster can be had for a couple of hundred bucks, and even cheaper if you buy an off-brand.

There was a lot of debate when the first Mexican Fenders came out. Part of it was a concern (and criticism) about quality, but a lot of it was the perception that it diluted the brand. But, in retrospect, it was a great move. It kept the price of a Fender down and helped boost the third-party parts industry, keeping it an affordable guitar that could be played as-is or modified into the perfect vision, however long that took.

Which brings up the question, what is a genuine telecaster?

That was an easy question back in the early days, and now, after over 60 years, it's still clear that if it looks like a tele, it is one. People can argue what it takes or costs to create a "good" one, but there's no doubt what one is. In my case, if it has an alder body and a maple neck, then it's a real tele.

The Internet and the vintage market (or the nostalgia market, to be exact) have created a sense that cost is a factor, which is certainly true to an extent. There is a difference between a good wine and a cheap bottle of Night Train, which holds true for guitars. There is undoubtedly a qualitative difference in materials and construction in the various price ranges.

Whether that truly makes one guitar sound better than another is open to debate, and if the discussion boards on the Internet are any indication, it always will be. We're talking about sound, and that's as individual a thing as wine tasting. 

The pleasure will always be a mix of cost, packaging, and mojo. If a person perceives that a thousand-dollar guitar is better than a six-hundred-dollar version, it will sound better. That's a scientific fact, at least how it applies to that person.

If you ask a bunch of telecaster lovers what the perfect one is, there'll be an endless variety of answers. 

The one thing that's hard to change is the human notion that money denotes quality. Many Fender guitar owners will say that the headstock means nothing and that the guitar itself and how it sounds and plays are what counts.

Like most concepts, it's true when it is true and not when it isn't. There'll always be a perception that American-made Fenders are superior to Mexican or Asian versions.

I've owned American-made teles, the best being a '66 Esquire and a 2013 Standard. There was a 2010 American Special and a 1976 Standard modified with a B Bender that I never could connect with, and being American-made didn't make any difference. 

The 2016 Fender MIM Standard Telecaster reviewed here is better than another tele I own, a Squier affinity, but not because it has better components or a better finish.

The fact is, both are good players that are a pleasure to play. However, I like the front pickup of the MIM Standard a lot more, and that's important because, as I've said earlier, that's the one that's used (by me) the most.

I went into the Guitar Center to try out the slightly cheaper Modern Player Nashville style tele with the Strat pickup in the middle position, but I didn't like the feel. There happened to be a used 2016 MIM Standard in the rack, and after playing it, I couldn't put it down. That it was cheaper sealed the deal. 

A bargain price has a lot of mojo in the Fender world.

I once said in an earlier review that decades of existence had made the notion that there is a definitive or "traditional" telecaster sound almost meaningless, and it's true here. 

I bought this Standard because it had a great sound with various levels of gain, and a great front pickup, so it's an excellent complement to my Affinity, which has a great middle (both pickups) sound (but a so so neck pup).

I did due diligence and checked the back pickup, which with the stock ceramic, had a nice chimey tone, which is the most usable sound in my case. There's some twang and spank there, but whether it's sufficient for country or chicken picking is a question for a different kind of player.

It has a nice clean tone and sounds loud and musically clear unamplified, which I like in a tele. It's a bit heavy, but that's not an issue for a sit-down player who'll mainly use it to record. 

I was able to test it on the same amp model it would be played on at home, so that was a real help in determining how it'd sound. It's fun to try out a new guitar on a high-end Marshall or Fender twin, but always try to play on an amp similar to the home unit.

What will make this Tele good for you depends on what will music will be played on it. The prevailing wisdom is that the stock ceramic pickups here are best for higher gain sounds in blues and rock and should be replaced with alnico-type pickups for a more traditional sound (whatever that means). 

The main thing was that I could get the front pickup sound that seems to come out of any telecaster I've owned when playing blues. There are other sounds, of course, but that one has to be there. If a ceramic pup does the job, then there's no need to replace it with alnico.

I'll be using this Tele to play blues, alternative rock, and electric fingerpicking pieces, and so far, so good.

Another question is if a MIM Standard is worth six hundred dollars new when a used American version can be had for around the same price.

Again, that's a yes or no...if that American Tele sounds better, yes, but one can't know that until one comes along at that price range. On the other hand, if having an American Tele is important from an emotional point of view, then it's better to wait for one. 

Owning a guitar is all about fun and pleasure, what dreams it gives you, and so yes, what's on the headstock can be important. It's your money.

I got this one for 370.00, in new-like condition and fully returnable. Since I was in the market for a mid-priced tele, it was perfect. However, I'd have passed on it at even 200.00 if I didn't like it. Any dollar spent on something you don't like is a wasted dollar on a guitar that won't be played. 

That's empirical wisdom from a guy who suffered from severe GAS when younger.

The most important piece of advice from most Fender owners is that your ears are the essential way to judge a guitar. It's also an excellent idea to like the stock guitar being played and not what you think it'll sound like after modifying it. 

The often vocal minority of players who think all stock parts are crap that this or that guitar will need this or that change to be good, are sometimes right, but not often enough to bet a few hundred dollars on.

This 2016 MIM Fender Standard Telecaster isn't the same as my first; in many ways, it's better. I like the slimmer modern necks with better frets, and the slightly hotter pickups give me the same sound that rewinding produced back then. The fit and finish are better, though I think that's more of an aesthetic judgment. My '71 got pretty beat up, and I didn't notice any sound quality drop-off.

The beauty of a telecaster is that the right one gives you the sound in your head. I've owned some nice ones in the past, including that great '66 Esquire, and while there's wistful regret at their loss, thanks to Fender consistency, I've never lost the sound. You'll find that after all is said and done, telecasters are more similar than different.

Given how this one has sounded so far, I'd have passed on the Modern Player and spent the extra hundred on this one. That I got it cheaper just confirmed it was destiny.

Note: I did make some practice recordings with that original '71 Tele back in the 80s that were digitized and put on my Boogie Underground Media channel on YouTube. The transfer from analog is a little primitive, but check those out if you'd like to hear how that Tele sounded. It was mainly the front pickup, treble cranked, with high gain on a nice little Peavey amp.

The cuts are Internationals Rock The Blues (you should be able to tell which parts are done by Tele), VJ Hook, Rocking Juke Joint Shuffle, Night Train, and Texas Jook Blues.

Specs (as stated on Internet:

Body:

Body Type: Not Specified

Cutaway: Single Cutaway

Top Wood: Not Specified

Body Wood Back and Sides: Alder

Body Bracing Pattern: Not Specified

Body Finish: Gloss

Orientation: Right Handed

Neck:

Neck Shape: C modern

Nut Width: 1.65 in. (42 mm)

Fretboard: Maple

Neck Wood: Maple

Scale Length: 25.5"

Number of Frets: 21

Neck Finish: Satin

Other:

Headstock Overlay: Not Specified

Tuning Machines: Die-cast sealed

Bridge: Not Specified

Saddle and Nut: Not Specified

Number of Strings: 6 String

Case: Not Specified

Accessories Included: Not Specified

Origin: Mexico

(Model: Klaudia)

A MUSIC LOVERS CONFESSION: I LOVE “BAD” MUSIC

Friends who know me well know that a significant part of my collection is made up of what music others call bad, stupid, in bad taste, crass attempts by an artist to cash in on the latest trend, or a deliberate attempt to offend or shock.

I think a more accurate term would be "music you either love or hate."

For example, my latest acquisition, "Bombay Disco: Disco Hits From Hindi Films 1979-1985," is a bizarre mix of Indian percussion pounding out disco rhythms, high-pitched Indian singing, and a riot of sitars, cheap electric guitars, exotic string arrangements, and from what I could tell, any sound a person could identify as being from India.

Keep in mind; I don't buy these kinds of CDs indiscriminately. However, I first listened to the samples in the store (yes, I still go to record stores) and found it to my liking. Then, as I purchased the disc, the young guy at the counter nodded and said, "oh yeah, I got to check that one out too."

It's that empathetic understanding by two jaded music fans who heard it all and who have abandoned ordinary norms of taste and now wallow in the clearance bins stocked with abandoned, discredited, or passé music to feel the thrill of discovery again.

The best way to describe it is that it was an attempt by the Indian film industry to duplicate the success of Saturday Night Fever, a disco classic in its R-rated version, and a sappy love story with a good soundtrack in its cleaned-up version.

Of course, India being India, they chose the latter. This is understandable, considering that they equate an on-screen kiss as tantamount to butt-pounding jokes on South Park.

The disc is full of everything I like about hard-charging Hindi music. Exotic rhythms, punchy bass, great Indian-style vocals, and music with an atmosphere that hints at the sleaziness of a dive strip bar in San Francisco's North Beach area.

It's probably more like a merchant Marine sailor's view of India since the general atmosphere of a Hindi film is more like an old Abba video on MTV.

Does the music have a cool trashy aura, or am I just putting it there?

I don't get hung up on such questions; it's good enough that my friends roll their eyes when the CD is played. But don't get me wrong, I didn't buy it purely for shock effect; it's ultra-cool music for anyone wanting to hear something out of the mainstream.

These types of records aren't unusual. In the 60s, when psychedelic music was at its peak in the Western world, it didn't exist in a vacuum. Musicians from countries as far away as Nigeria did psychedelic music too, often adding it to the funk they had already picked up from James Brown.

Even Brazil in the 60s had a psychedelic pop movement, which was critically acclaimed, and thus out of the scope of this blog entry.

I wasn't always like that as a music collector. But, it was after playing in a punk band that forever changed my ear for music. Suddenly, harshly dissonant sounds started to seem sweet sounding or more "real."

Before Punk, I didn't understand the free jazz movement of the 60s and thought John Coltrane had made a horrible mistake recording the infamous Ascension album. Now the music makes perfect sense, and I see it as one of his greatest works.

Also, my view of audience acceptance changed. Before our first gig, the leader of our band informed us that the club owner had advised him that since Punk was still very new and they didn't know what was good or bad, we would be asked to come back if we either got loud cheers or provoked extreme hatred and boos from the crowd.

In other words, don't be boring. I won't go into all the details of what we did in our 20-minute debut to be booked again; suffice it to say, I would never do any of it again at any polite dinner party.

For one thing, most of it was staged and assisted by shills in the audience, which shocked me initially, but I later learned it was common practice by the other bands at the club. In addition, I later became a pretty good shill myself for bands that we were friends with and could put on a convincing show of wanting to assault the lead singer for his insults and shoving me off my chair before the bouncers dragged me out (and let me back in through the side door).

It was the entertainment business and all in good fun.

But that ended my usual habit of buying the latest James Taylor record or even the Stones or Led Zeppelin. In fact, I became reluctant to buy any critically acclaimed or popular record.

Instead, I began to seek it all out: avant-garde, electronic, Punk, and especially ethnic music.

Like most such impulses, that settled down to a specific taste, bad music.

The technical term is "so bad that it's good" or "good-bad" music, and there's always some element of humor, however dark or esoteric.

One of the pioneers in bad taste (in music) was Dr. Demento, whose radio show is probably most remembered for launching the career of Wierd Al Yankovic. It introduced the listener to a host of classic cuts like Fish Heads, Kinko The Clown, and other cuts with a spark of genius and humor to the right set of ears.

There is such a thing as bad music; I mean awful music. Probably the classic of that genre was the Bee Gees and Peter Frampton's version of the Beatle's Sgt. Pepper movie soundtrack. It's probably the only movie I ever went to where people started booing.

Most "good-bad" music can't be created by design. Instead, the singer or artist has to have the enthusiasm of someone attempting a piece of music that's either thoroughly out of their depth or coming from incredibly bad taste, energized by the conviction that it's an actual piece of art.

One of my favorites is the Butthole Surfers' "Lady Sniff, a nearly atonal mix of pre-grunge guitar, a lousy attempt at sounding like a cowboy singer, and an assortment of realistic sounds like farts, vomiting, sounds and strange exclamations that have distant roots in redneck vocabulary.

It was as ingeniously as an old Spike Jones number, and it's become the best song that the group ever did that very few people hear.

My other favorite subgenre of bad is what seems like lousy cover numbers on paper but actually is good. But, again, it just can't be as bad as a karaoke backing track. It has to have the passion of an artist or group who thinks they're doing a very cool version of the song or are at least doing their best to shut the producer up by doing it as quickly as possible but have too much talent to do it truly bad.

The jazz great Ella Fitzgerald probably did one of the stone classics of bad when she did a big band version of Cream's Sunshine Of Your Love. Her piano version was merely bad, just another typical attempt by many artists of the time to tap into the 60s youth market.

But the single version was something else. With a full band blasting out the guitar riff, Ella became transcendent.

Many people would bring up Frank Zappa in a discussion like this, but he's in a different category. His music was pure genius and satire, disguised by obnoxious song titles.

One of the classics is Lou Reed's "Metal Machine Music," which to most ears was nearly an hour of what sounded like scraping metal. Most understand that he did that to get out of this RCA contract, and it was a record that turned off even many of his fans.

Ironically only a few years later, copies of that record were fetching $50 apiece, which is the ultimate tribute that a record buyer can bestow on a piece of music that wasn't intended to be liked.

I've only covered a few examples. Avant-garde classical would require a blog entry of its own, and most performance art tries to be crummy and shocking, which violates the essential rule of good-bad music: it can't be your intent to be bad.

Good-Bad music is an aesthetic, a specific taste, and it must manifest a genius and humor that wasn't the piece's intent.

It's like any other form of music. You combine the elements, and what comes out of the mix is unpredictable. It could turn into a hit song, bore people, or be misunderstood until the right people hear it.

Sometimes it takes time, but genius persists until eager bottom-feeders like me discover it.

-Al Handa

- Al HANDA

deltasnake@yahoo.com

Here's an update on each of my Vella books:

The Quitters

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B09PC3L6PC

It's the first book, and after ten months, it's finally developing an audience, and the stats are trending upward this month. I think it's due to the blog and the new book/music video short format I'm using for its promotion. I’ve moved the plot lines away from potentially over technical descriptions of playing live to more emphasis on the personalities and in particular, the main character Nym. Also, some of the romance elements are now coming into play.

It's at 31 episodes, though as an ebook, we're talking maybe 15 traditional-length chapters. I'm keeping the format episodic and short, kind of like a weekly TV show, which works for Vella but will need to be restructured for the ebook.

I, Ivy

 https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0B3RCBT4D

The story got off to a decent start, but I didn't notice that as it's obvious now that the daily totals on the Vella dashboard can differ or not jibe with the monthly or overall total, which have to be accurate as those numbers determine the royalty and bonus payouts. I'll be paying more attention to this one in November, as it’s being read more than I thought. The latest chapter, Ivy’s view of the efforts by a human to give her a pill should strike a familiar chord.

The Forbidden Lost Gospels Of Murgatroyde

 https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJ2TW4P1

This is a new one, though it'll be the most familiar to blog readers. I'll be changing the format of the blog in November, and putting the Lost Gospels here will allow me to fully expand that line of humor and satire in a way that simply being a blog feature doesn't permit.

The Boogie Underground Think Tank: How To Survive The End Of Civilization

 https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BG6LNXTG

This one is a revival of an old humor column I ran in my old "Delta Snake Blues News" publication in the 90s and 2000s. The slant is about survival in the upcoming hard times, but it really will be topical and cover subjects that are offbeat but relevant. The next one coming in a few days will be "How To Shop For The Perfect Expert," which obviously will be a humorous commentary on the use of experts in general.

The Adventures Of Queen Khleopahtra: Ruler Of Egypt, Time Traveler, and Literary Detective

 https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BJC122G7

This is another new one and will be a fun fusion of the old "Peabody and Sherman" cartoon, which was about a time-traveling dog and boy, Robert Graves' often satirical take on history, and the old "Fractured Fairy Tales" cartoon that used to be featured on the "Rocky And Bullwinkle Show." 

I chose Khleopahtra as the main character because it will offer the widest range of literary situations to explore, and I happened to have a cool drawing of her and liked the idea of expanding the character. After reading the first episode, you'll agree that the possibilities are endless.

In the latest episodes, we meet Achilles and the poet Homer, who will become recurring characters!

- Al Handa

   October 2022

   ontheroadwithalandiivy@yahoo.com

The ebook “On The Road With Al & Ivy: The Anthology Volume 1 2016-2018 is now on Kindle Unlimited!

I’ll run free promotions later this month, but members can read it for free now.

I Can Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw International). F IPlease check out and listen to Mark McGraw’s Christmas single from his album on Bandcamp,Can

Make It To Christmas by Mark McGraw (of Handa-McGraw Intern

https://markmcgraw.bandcamp.com/album/songs-from-southern-pacific-spur-46

Please check out and listen to my music on Spotify, YouTube, Apple Music and other music sites. Please add any cuts you like to your playlists!

On The Road With Al And Ivy: A Literary Homeless Blog - Special Announcement Dec. 2022

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT: NEW ADDITION TO THIS BLOG SITE (BOOGIE UNDERGROUND MEDIA)

I'll be moving my Delta Snake Review blog over to the Boogie Underground Blog site (the home of the On The Road With Al And Ivy Blog). The first new D.S. entry with new material will be in February of 2023, but I'll move material from the older blog page sooner.

You may have noticed that I've added the word "media" to the Boogie Underground name. This isn't the start of a new project, as The Delta Snake blog has never been taken down in its original location and still draws regular monthly traffic.

My reason is that having my blog projects under one name and site is more efficient. Also, the Delta Snake Review was originally a music/arts publication that started in the 80s, existed as an eZine in the early Usenet era and was one of the very early Blues web pages.

However, it was eclectic for most of its history and always included poetry, graphics, humor, and music reviews and articles. So I want to return to those genres in a discrete blog, like the Snake.

The Delta Snake Review will mainly present archival material as I move older material and links over. However, in the case of the punk rock essays, I'd have preferred to run those in The Snake and not in a formal combined issue.

The Delta Snake blog page was intended to be "a sequential magazine," that is to say, to have the features go live as completed and not on a traditional publishing schedule. 

The On The Road With Al And Ivy Blog was supposed to be one of the features, not an all-encompassing publication. It was supposed to run along with other features. The reason it didn't is a long story and not relevant.

By retitling the blog page to Boogie Underground Media, I can run these blogs as features and take advantage of the format's flexibility and ability to publish on the fly. It's also easier for me, as I'm writing in one location.

Adding more features would typically be an ideal grouping for a web page, but this blog site already has an audience of around 25,000 to 55,000 per month, and there's no reason to try to get everyone to migrate to a new website when the blog format works just fine.

One crucial point is that this is very much a case of the change being transparent, as the physical transformation is just adding the word media to the existing blog title, and the site will be hosting a second blog.

For example, each On The Road With Al And Ivy Blog entry will be announced on social media the same way it's always been, as its location hasn't changed. It's just that readers who navigate to the blog might notice that other blogs are running on the site.

I'll have the announcement read something to the effect of the "latest Delta Snake Review on the On The Road With Al And Ivy site" (which is the address name anyway) at first to avoid confusion or have people think it's another site. It shouldn't be a problem as the Delta Snake has a different audience anyway.

I do want to take a moment to thank the readers of this blog; it's my most successful writing project and my greatest source of satisfaction.

My goal for these changes and additions is to make this blog a better reading experience and, as always, free. My monetization consists of advertising my Vella serials and EBooks, so it's in my interest to keep it that way.

When The Delta Snake Review with new material officially launches in 2023, I hope you'll check it out and enjoy its music and arts content.

- Al HANDA

  Dec. 2, 2022