Mb Speaks: Mar 2017

The great thing about February is; it’s short. Only 28 days because long ago we followed a lunar cycle that made for 12 months. 7 months were 29 days, 4 months were 31 days and because the year was 355 days that left 28 days to be accounted for. Ancients believed “even” numbers were unlucky, so the shortest month was given to February, the worst of all months. Later the Christians changed the calendar on everyone, but kept February just the way it was, except every 4 years when it gets an extra day, just to screw everyone up. Thankfully February has a day when you’re suppose to love your mate, buy flowers and chocolate and maybe make a baby, or else it would just be a month of shovelling snow, yearning to go south and rushing to buy RRSP’s. At least that’s how it would be here in the North. Did we get enough snow? Sure did. Then it melted and froze into ice. Then snowed again so everyone could wipe out on their way somewhere else. Anyway, you get my point, February sucks. Glad it’s over. Now it’s March. Complete with a week to take a “break” March has us looking ahead to longer days and shorter nights, to budding trees and the smell of dirt, a time when we emerge from our caves to wave at neighbours and honk at strangers. March is Mar’s month. Romans thought March was the beginning of the year. Suppose it makes sense. It has the Spring Equinox nestled in the middle of it. For Catholics, it’s a time to celebrate St Patrick’s victory over the pagans, always symbolized by the whacking of snakes and of course hard drinking. I’ve always wondered whether the drinking was only to numb the pains from doing the wrong thing. Like when you screw up bad and hit the local tavern to drown your sorrows. I guess the Irish would know best. Speaking of “knowing best” Trump is still in the White House claiming no one knows anything better than he does. Arg, best leave that one alone or I’ll end up on some list somewhere…. Speaking of lists, thanks to everyone who filled Market Hall for my Bowie show. The reception was overwhelming and really convinced me to aggressively move forward with this show. “Bye-bye Buble. Hello Man Who Sold the World.” Thanks to everyone who helped me promote and make sure fans knew the show was coming to town. Now on to other markets. Keep an eye on thebowielives.com to see when I’ll be in your town. I’ve already booked my return to Peterborough for next February 2018. Speaking of returning to “my town” I’ll be back in Cuba by the time some of you read this. Jumping in front of bands of various musical mixes, I’ll be practising my Spanglish, while over indulging on Rum and trying to find the harmonies. Back to Havana for some people watching, dancing and plain old trying to fit in. If there was any place I’d chose to retire to, Havana would be it. If you’ve never been, I can’t suggest it enough. Stylish and educated, with music emoting from every doorway. You just need to over look the lack of paint and you’ll have the time of your life. Speaking of the time of your life, this is it. As yet another friend passes, having succumb to their struggle with cancer, I’m once again reminded. I guess it’s because I’m getting old too. Young people reading this are probably thinking “Old people sure do talk about death a lot.” And I guess we do. It’s a selfish impulse. I don’t want to lose any more friends or family. But heed my words young ones, none of us are immortal, so be sure to grab life and make the most of it. No time like “now.” Oh look, the sun is shining…
Keep the faith, Mb