SONG OF THE DAY: Tired of Being Alone (kudzu'd)

I’ve taken up playing Torricelli’s trumpet, an old acute truncated hyperbolic solid brass one, but so far all I’ve learned is Al Green’s “Tired of Being Alone”. It’s hard to get used to, because of the finite volume, so no matter how hard I try to blow (which is hard for me, due to my advanced age and sleep apnea half-choking in the middle of the night ass). But mostly, all my neighbors are frustrated by it, not due to the noise, but because of the infinitely long shape. It’s not so bad in the woods behind the house, but by the time you get to the end of Schuyler Road, it’s a few hundred feet high I reckon. Ultimately, I’d like to be able to make cosmic cumbia music if I can find some like-minded people, or even non-people to be honest. Not robots though. I ain’t making no new-fangled mathematically nonsensical space funk with no goddamned robots. Well, at least not Earth robots as designed by humans here. Maybe there’s more soulful robots designed by other intergalactic species in other systems, but I’ve seen nothing with a copper heart that has the fingerprint of homo sapiens upon it. I heard tell, talking to an old dude on the Greyhound riding between Dayton, OH, and Charleston, WV, one time, that there were space robots who could play the horn really well. But this dude told me that like how on Earth, fleshly humans play brass instruments, there were robotic creatures with brass veins (aka wires) who played horns made of a flesh-like material, so it wasn’t rigid, but they were. At first, I was like, “Whatever, weird old dude I’m stuck beside on the bus for a long time,” but when I gave him a look like that, he jumped right into talking about bagpipes from Scotland and how they were made from sheep intestines originally, and it all started making sense. That’s how the Greyhound used to be… it was a podcast before podcasts existed, and you couldn’t change the channel until the next stop either one of you got off on. Or sometimes, a new guest would show up and enter your podcast (Greyhound conversation). Late at night, at the back of the bus? Man, those were some of the best podcasts I ever heard in my life. Crazy shit. Anyways, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, the Torricelli’s trumpet I got at Motleys in Farmville.