Book Signing at Tiger Dust on 6/5/2026

 

I am taking author Joshua Ginsberg's usual spot at Tiger Dust this Friday. I will have an assortment of creative reads and copies of the Beast Mode DVD!

 

 

Book Signing May 16th, 2026 Citrus and Sage Bookshop, Brooksville, FL

 

I will be at the Citrus and Sage Bookshop this Saturday from 10am to 3pm selling and signing Curveball at the Crossroads!

Should be a great time! Come by, pick up a book, get a cup of coffee or tea, and support local bookstores and support local authors!

 

Book Signing - March 22nd, 2026 at Skip's Bar and Grill in Dunedin

 

I am very excited to announce my first book signing in Dunedin, Florida. I like doing book signings of my baseball novel in conjunction with Spring Training, running from February to March. While I have done signings in Tampa, Clearwater, and Bradenton, I have not yet done Dunedin. But dun-dun-dun, Dunedin is now on the schedule!

I will be at Skip’s Bar, 371 Main St Dunedin, FL 34698 from noon to 5pm this Sunday. Skip’s is only 0.6 miles from TD Ballpark, spring home of the Toronto Blue Jays. Dunedin gets crowded and its a fun area to be in, especially on baseball days. I hope to see everyone there!

Lake County Comic Con 2025 at the Minneola City Hall on 11/22/25

Happy to announce that I will be a featured guest at the Lake County Comic Convention on Saturday November 22, 2025 at Minneola City Hall in Minneola, FL. I will be selling and signing my books, so come on out and say hi!

On a personal note, this will be my first visit to Minneola City Hall since April 2024, and the last wXw show. I spent 15 years supporting professional wrestling there and making friends that turned into family. I haven't been back since the last wXw show and the passing of the legendary Afa Anoa'i. It's gonna be sad, but I hope all the good vibes I've had in that building help me sell some books.

Should be a great event. Hope to see you there!  

Book Signing Announcement - Cigar City Brewing, May 24th, 2025

 

I love brewery book signings. They are always a lot of fun. I enjoy having a beer or three and talking with folks about my books. So it is with great pleasure that I announce my latest book signing.

SAT MAY 24th at Cigar City Brewing from 12-4pm as part of their Crops and Hops event.

Cigar City Brewing is one of the best breweries in Tampa. They are also the closest to Steinbrenner Field, current home of the Tampa Bay Rays. This should be a great.

Come out, say hi, and support local breweries and local authors!

Tarpon Springs Book Festival Saturday April 26, 2025

 

I will be part of the Tarpon Springs Book Festival this Saturday, April 26th, 2025.

Super excited to be part of this. Tarpon Springs has always been good to me. I recently did a book signing at The Gilded Page bookstore and did very well. The book festival is coordinated by the same folks but is much bigger. There will be talks, vendors, food, and more books than you can shake a tree at. Or a stick. But sticks are smaller. You can hit more book vendors with a tree. But I wouldn't recommend hitting any book vendors with a tree. Even a small tree, which is kinda like a stick with more roots. So what I am saying is is don't hit people with any vegetation. Or with vegetables. Or fruits. Or fists. Just don't hit people. But do visit the Tarpon Springs Book Festival this Saturday!

For more information, click here for their website!

 

Clearwater Comic Con appearance and review

 

I had the great pleasure of being part of a panel at the Clearwater Library's annual Comic Con. Such a great time talking with fellow writers AC Haydee and Silk Jazmyne about folklore in fantasy. I was also very impressed with the Clearwater Comic Con. It is a small, local convention, but it was very well run and put together. There were several artists and authors I knew from previous events, to include the illustrious King of the B-Movies, the great Joel Wynkoop. Joel is my hero.

I left the Clearwater Comic Con with new books, graphic novels, and movies, as well as some new ideas that I hope to make happen. Definitely excited to create and do great things.

Perhaps next year I will have a table at the Clearwater Comic Con. It is highly recommended. 

Book signing at Motorworks Brewing March 2nd 2025

 

 

I am super excited to announce my latest book signing will be at Motorworks Brewing in Bradenton, Florida on Sunday, March 2nd from noon to 5pm. My goal is to be there before, during, and after the Pittsburgh Pirates spring training game a few blocks away.

Longtime fans will remember that I did a book signing at Motorworks way back in 2022 during an FSU football game. That was a very good night for sales and Seminole football. Happy to return to Motorworks and have a few of their great beers.

Hope to see you there!

A Week For Dad

 

Earlier this year, I wrote about my Dad’s life and his passing. It was the first time I wrote about my Dad in the past tense. Although he has been gone for nine months, it still seems like he went away yesterday. Or maybe last week. Reality has set in, but the hole is still there. I still miss my Dad.

Whereas I have good memories of my Dad teaching me things as a child and doing things with my Dad like Cub Scouts and making electronic doo-dads and gizmos, my best memories are of us as adults going places together. We went to concerts, ballgames, sports bars, car shows, and other assorted events.

My Dad was a car aficionado, especially of the early Datsun Zs. He owned a 1971 240Z for over 20 years and the car was pretty much a member of the family. Before a bad accident forced him to part ways with the car, his dying wish was for his car to be crushed into a cube, a hole drilled eight inches into the cube, his ashes poured into the hole, and the hole sealed so he would forever be a part of his car. Then the surviving members of the family were to put the crushed car in the living room, purchase a glass table top, and create a memorial coffee table. 

I was looking forward to the day I would tell my future kids to get their shoes off their grandfather.

Alas, his beloved 240Z was totaled and claimed by insurance. He purchased a replacement car for a few years, but like replacement Dukes of Hazzard, it wasn’t the same. His passion for the replacement car wasn’t what it was for his 1971 240Z. As his health diminished, he sold the replacement. He was more depressed about his health and not having a car than he was about parting ways with his replacement Z.

When he had his original 240Z and his health was good, he would often go to the annual Z Car Convention, the national gathering of Z enthusiasts. He went to at least four of them – San Antonio, Savannah, Daytona, and Nashville. Sometimes he would drive his car and sometimes he would tow it. Sometimes he would bring my Mom and sometimes he would go with his friend.

This year, as fate would have it, the Z Car Convention was in Tampa for the first time ever. It is hard for me to articulate the coincidence. It seemed like more than fate, almost like a sign. The convention could have been anywhere in the United States – from Washington to Miami, San Diego to Maine, and anywhere in between. Instead, the event that meant so much to my Dad was scheduled to happen in my backyard. Of course I was going.

Z Car Conventions are week-long events. Attended by Z Car Clubs and fans nationwide, there are opening ceremonies, exhibitions of the latest racing engines, seminars, and guest appearances by celebrities of the Z community. Two car shows are among the highlights of the week - the first, a judged car show on Wednesday, and the second, a public car show on Saturday.

When I told my Mom about the upcoming Z Car Convention, we agreed that while my Dad would have attended all week, we only needed to go to the final public car show. That would be enough, both physically and emotionally. My Mom booked a hotel room for the final Z car weekend and we were ready.

I don’t remember what inspired me to look up the 2024 Z Car Convention. I think perhaps I was looking up Z communities in an attempt to help my Mom sell some of the car parts my Dad never got around to moving out of the garage. But I do remember tearing up a bit thinking that my Dad would have been in Tampa all week. I was missing out on hanging out with my Dad at something that meant a lot to him. I wouldn't have been at every event with him, but I am sure we would have met up a few times during the week for beer and wings and a few Z Car events. It is those missed opportunities that I miss the most.

Although my Mom and I agreed to attend only the public car show on Saturday, I decided to visit the hotel headquarters of the Z Convention on Thursday. I wanted to buy t-shirts and other swag early just in case they ran out the day of the public event. I also wanted to take in the event at my own pace, without anyone else. I didn’t know how emotional seeing all the cars on Saturday would be, so I figured getting some tears out of the way on Thursday might be a good idea.

Pulling in to the parking lot of the Embassy Suites by the University of South Florida in Tampa I immediately saw various types of Z cars. There were modern racers, show cars, and the classic models similar to my Dad’s. I was in the right place.

The impact of being among the community that meant so much to my Dad hit almost immediately. Inside the hotel lobby was a car that looked very similar to my Dad’s in make, model, and color. It had a different design on the side, but was ninety percent the same. I walked into the hotel, saw that car, and had to turn around and walk out to collect myself. I took a deep breath outside the hotel door and walked in again. Seeing that car so soon was a bit of a punch.

Once in the hotel, I found the Z Car people. They had a merch store with various swag and t-shirts. They also had two large banners and were collecting signatures of everyone who registered for the convention. After explaining my reason for being there, they let me sign the banners for my Dad. I put “RIP George Lortz ’71 240Z” on each banner. He was at the Z Convention in spirit and now in name.

I spoke with several volunteers at the hotel in both the merch room and the registration room. Everyone was very nice. They let me place my Dad’s memorial card besides different maps and images and take several pictures. They asked questions about my Dad and his car and they made me feel very welcome. Going by myself that first day was definitely helpful as I process grief better when I am around other people.

I walked out of the hotel with a smile on my face and looked forward to Saturday’s car show. Then I saw a car in the parking lot that looked ninety-nine percent like my Dad’s car. It was a pristine pearl white early ‘70s 240Z. Parked among the other Z Cars, it was sitting where my Dad probably would have parked.

 

 

I had to take a moment and catch my breath. I sat down in the parking lot next to the car for a few minutes and cried a bit. When I composed myself, I thought it might have looked a little weird for any passersby to see a grown man sitting next to a stranger’s car and tearing up in a parking lot, but I didn’t care. In a city of shoe lickers, addicts, and other assorted homeless, I probably had the best reason to be sitting in a parking lot getting emotional.

Saturday morning, I picked up my Mom at her hotel and we went to the Z Car Convention public car show. I was impressed. There were hundreds of Z cars of various makes and models and a crowd of several hundred curious and interested Z fans. There were also various vendors with official shirts and other swag. Unable to refuse a good deal, my Mother stocked up on stuff, some of which she needed, some of which reminded her of my Dad. 

Walking the rows of cars, I saw many of the people I met on Thursday. Again, everyone was really nice and expressed their condolences and their appreciation that we came to honor my Dad. They listened as we told them about his car, his travels to previous conventions, and the awards he won. These were my Dad’s people. As an added bonus, we also made connections that might help us sell the rest of my Dad’s car parts.

Oddly missing from the large expanse of show-quality Zs at the public car show was the pearl white early 70s 204Z I saw in the parking lot the previous Thursday. My mother and I walked the aisles of cars several times thinking I might have missed it, but it wasn’t there. I am not sure who goes to a car convention and doesn’t bring their car to the final big event, but that car was not there.

Like the coincidence of the convention being in my city the year after my Dad’s passing, perhaps the pearl white early 70s 240Z was only in the parking lot for me to see and appreciate. Perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be at the car show for everyone. Perhaps it was a sign that my Dad was there and at the same time not there. I can’t explain it. I just have to accept that I saw that car when I did.

After lunch with my Mom at a local German restaurant that we agreed my Dad would have liked, I dropped my Mom at her hotel and went to the Buddy Guy concert in Clearwater. Buddy Guy is a legend in Blues and a performer my Dad and I had seen in concert several times. Although I have seen Buddy Guy more than a dozen times total, half of those were with my Dad. Seeing Blues legends in concert was one of our things.

Prior to dropping her off, my Mother and I debated whether or not my Dad would have joined me at the concert. She said he probably would have stayed at the Z Car Convention for the closing ceremonies and social hours. I like to think he would have joined me. Or I can think of the events as separate and think of good times with my Dad at each. While his spirit might have remained at the Z Convention, his spirit and memory also came with me to the concert. Both things can be true.

Continuing the tribute to my Dad, I ordered a Jim Beam and coke prior to the concert. Jim Beam was his drink of choice. In yet another weird coincidence, there was one and half pours left in the bottle. The bartender was kind enough to give me that little extra for free so she could finish the bottle. In bourbon lexicon, there is a term called “Angel’s share”, a small amount of the batch that evaporates during the distilling process. I like to think that little bit poured into my glass to kill the bottle was “Dad’s share”.

Overall, it was a great show and one I am sure my Dad would have enjoyed. Time hasn’t stopped Buddy Guy, who at 88 years old, is still at the top of his guitar-playing game. But alas, this might be Buddy’s last time on tour as he is semi-retiring and only scheduling dates at his home bar in Chicago. It was a great run.

 

 

On the way back from the Buddy Guy concert, I pondered going to see my bartending buddy SportsChump at his Irish pub, but my body said no. I was too damn tired. SportChump aka Chris and I have become better friends over the last few months. Not only was he the first person to write a review of my novel, he also wrote about his own Dad’s passing shortly before my Dad passed. We joined that unfortunate club nearly the same time. I knew I could visit his bar and tell him all about my day for my Dad and he would appreciate my story. Chris, consider this shout-out my apology for not visiting. I’ll swing by soon.

Although I didn’t go to a pub or a bar, I did stop by a local liquor store to pick up a nice drink to close the night. I settled on Jim Beam Black, a little less harsh and little smoother than his standard Jim Beam. My Dad would have approved.

While I was perusing the aisles, the store clerk told me they had a discount on top level bourbon. I declined and told him why I turned down the offer. He not only understood, he sympathized. He told me about the last concert he went to with his Dad, Pink Floyd in 1980. Shortly thereafter, he became a member of the club no one wants to join. As I checked out, he told me he applied the discount to the bottle I bought. A really nice gesture and a much needed conversation.

As the night ended and I sipped on a glass of Jim Beam, I reflected on the week. I was happy I could honor my Dad and celebrate his love for his Z during the 2024 Z Car Convention in Tampa. Although it was sad at times, I know he was there in spirit the entire week and especially at the car show and concert. He would have enjoyed his day.

I miss you, Dad.

Independent Bookstore Day in Tampa Bay

 Here is my trip to various independent bookstores in Tampa Bay on Independent Bookstore Day 2024.

One Last Drive to Minneola

I’ve been putting off writing this for a few reasons. One, I wanted to attend all that needed to be attended, and two, I wanted to give time and space to others to express their views before I express mine. I don’t mind bringing up the rear, and in their world, they go first.

Fifteen years ago, there was very little development northbound on State Road 27 between I-4 and Minneola City Hall. Once you got off the interstate and past the truck stops, there were a few lights in Clermont and a whole lot of nothing before arriving at Minneola’s one traffic light. The nothingness was so expansive that in February 2009, the first time I drove up SR 27 to Minneola, I thought I was lost. After a few minutes of nothingness, I turned around and drove back to Tampa.

True story.

Once I figured out where I was going, Minneola City Hall became a regular drive. Although many times I took a friend or two, and even once took a legendary pro wrestling manager, I often made the journey solo.

While friends were always nice company, the reason I drove to Minneola City Hall was to see World Xtreme Wrestling, the famous federation run by Afa Anoa’i and his family.

In the beginning, my reason for driving to Minneola was simple, to support my brother, Bryan Maddox. If Bryan was in a show, I drove to see him. Prior to wXw, following his career led me to matches all over Florida. I saw matches in roller skating rinks, VFWs, bars, television studios, and the occasional civic center. Once he settled on wXw, I settled on wXw.

As the commercial says, wXw is better than the rest.

Over the years, I became a wXw regular. I was the heckler with the afro wig. A cheerleader, one with a three-foot afro wig instead of pom-poms. A tradition that started with the Afro-Squad at Florida Championship Wrestling travelled to Minneola and found a new home. Whereas I was part of a crew at FCW, at wXw I was the only afro-clad super fan. In wXw, the afro wig got bigger and I got louder. I developed a reputation as the guy who jeered the bad guys and started chants for the good guys.

“Perfect Loser!” – to Richard “Perfect Creation” Criato. Still one of my favorite chants.

“No one likes you!” – to any and all bad guys. Especially the arrogant type.

“Get up! I have money on you!” – always funny when a good guy is getting pummeled.

“You got him right where you want him!” – when a good guy wrestler is getting beaten by a bigger bad guy.

“WXW! WXW!” – when wXw was invaded by FCW and years later, Battlefield Wrestling.

And so many more. Whenever I brought a friend, I would warn them of my reputation and antics. Sometimes they joined the trash talking. Sometimes they got caught in the heckling crossfire. But it was always good fun and always clean.

Being a wXw regular and Bryan Maddox’s brother introduced me to so many great people at wXw. First and foremost, the Anoa’i Family. From Pops to Momma Lynn to Vale to other family members who occasionally visited, the entire family treated me like family. Whether it was giving me a warm welcome when I returned from Afghanistan, allowing me to visit their home after a show, sending me emails when I was in Qatar, asking about my brother during his times away from the ring, coming to my book signing, or being at my Dad’s Celebration of Life, I am forever thankful for their kindness and support.

Before I discuss the regular roster, I want to mention that because of wXw, I have some amazing Haku stories. Haku is a legend of the ring. A former king and one of the toughest men in pro wrestling history. But I never approached him as an awestruck fan. His daughter, Vika, was at FSU the same time I was. Her college roommate was friends with my college roommate. When I first approached Haku, I asked about his family. We talked about life in Orlando versus Tampa. He paid my tab at Buffalo Wild Wings one night after I complained about lack of service. He sent me a birthday video last year. He gave me a hug and chop to the chest at the last wXw show. Haku is the man. Getting to know him wouldn’t have been possible without wXw.

Because of wXw, I also broke bread and drank beer with Jey Uso in a Tampa sports bar. When I explained to Jey that his family has treated my family like family for many years, he asked me who. When I told him I knew his Uncle Afa, Aunt Lynn, Cousin Vale, etc, he invited me to hang out with him and also paid my tab. We closed down a few bars when WWE was holding temporary residency at Tropicana Field. That never would have happened without wXw.

Other people I crossed paths with because of wXw include Harry Smith at the same sports bar I met Jey, Tamina Snuka at a Qdoba in Tampa, and two women on a nature trail in Hawaii who commented on my “Anoa’i Strong” t-shirt and told me about their own Samoan lineage.

Now to the wXw roster. I have a lot of respect for the wrestlers of wXw. I have only been in a wrestling ring twice in my life. It is not my place. My place is outside the ring with a big afro wig on my head. But to those who put their bodies on the line at wXw, thank you. To my brother, Bryan Maddox, to his longtime tag partner, Ethan Essex, to his former manager, Rico Moon, to Nick Nero and Ace Radic (aka Justin Bieber), Maluta to Mandrake, Vertigo to Deathrow, Hound Dogg to Hudson, Gus Money to Gariston Spears, Mercedes to Sarona, Sugaa to Shawn Spears, TNT to Tony Ice, D-Ramos to E.R.A. to Alex G to the Big O, and many, many others, thank you for years of dedication and entertainment. I hope to see you at other shows soon.

In my 15 years of wXw fandom, one of my favorite moments happened in Summer 2023 when Battlefield Pro Wrestling “invaded” wXw. I arrived at Minneola City Hall wearing my afro and a wXw t-shirt. Before I could make my way to a seat, the wXw wrestlers sitting ringside chanted “One of us” to me. I was representing wXw and they wanted me to sit with them. Of course, I didn’t attack Battlefield wrestlers when they did, but I did join them in booing and jeering the invading roster. For them to acknowledge me as “one of them”, even in the crowd, was super cool.

Now to the fellow fans. Through wXw, I became family with many other regularly attending fans. We would always chat and catch up every month. From the Clacks to Santa Claus to everyone who bought my book to the kids who thought my afro was real to the kids who swore it wasn’t, thank you for making wXw more enjoyable. I can’t count how many new fans at wXw asked me if I was part of the show or told me that I added to their enjoyment. Thank you to the fans who laughed at my heckling and thank you to the fans who joined my chants. I also hope to see all y’all at other shows soon.

wXw provided me with 15 years of entertainment and introduced me to so many good people, but the best thing wXw did was make me that much prouder of my brother. I saw Bryan win titles, lose titles, get cheered, get booed, get a stinkface from Rikishi, meet his idols, and eventually make the wXw Hall of Fame. I’ll admit I cried a little when he received his well-deserved Hall of Fame plaque.

Weeks ago, when I started writing this essay, I thought I was making my last drive to Minneola. Afa the Wild Samoan announced April 13 was the last wXw show. Twenty-seven years, to include fifteen in Florida, was coming to an end. I was ready to tear up. During the show, however, Afa Junior took the mic and announced he was going to continue hosting wrestling shows in Minneola. We don’t know when, we don’t know who, and we don’t know how. But we are going to hold Junior to his word.

Instead of saying good-bye to Minneola, the wXw Grand Finale was instead the closing of a great chapter. It was end of the shows hosted by Afa, his wife Lynn, and their daughter Vale, the central nervous system of wXw. They have to circle the wagons and take care of Pops, who has been battling health issues lately. The Grand Finale was their finale.

These days, countless condos and complexes line State Road 27 from I-4 to Minneola City Hall. The nothingness is gone. The area is growing and more things are happening. City Hall itself is getting a massive upgrade. But after April 13th one thing will be missing.

World Xtreme Wrestling.

Thank you, Afa, for putting on such great shows for 15 years. Thank you, Mom and Vale, for all you did. Thank you to the wrestlers and the fans. I love you all and I will see you soon.

P.S. After the second-to-last show, someone asked me if the afro wig will be retired if wXw closed. I don’t think it will be. The Afro-Squad started in FCW and has been at many different organizations statewide. I also don’t think my WXW or Anoa’i Strong shirts will be retired either. As a matter of fact, they will probably be my regular attire to all wrestling shows from here on out. Although I will be at whatever show in wherever, Florida, my heart will always be at wXw.

P.P.S. I still can’t believe I missed The Rock.

Curveball at the Crossroads at Motorworks Brewery with the Bradenton Noles

On November 5th, I had the awesome opportunity to have a book signing with the Bradenton Seminole Club at Motorworks Brewery. The Bradenton Noles were kind enough to let me visit for the game watching party as the Seminoles took on the Miami Hurricanes.

Meeting the Bradenton Noles was a lot of fun. They are some great people and they bought a good amount of books. And Motorworks Brewery is a fun place for local beer.

Thanks again to the Bradenton Seminole Club for having me.

Curveball at the Crossroads at Bookstore1 Sarasota Book Fair October 22nd 2022

 

I love book fairs. As much as I love solo book signings, book fairs are better than solo book signings because I have a chance to meet fellow authors and writers. They also attract more people than solo book signings. They are a chance for me to see how other authors peddle their wears. I have learned a lot from fellow authors.

For example, the last few book fairs I have gone to I forgot to bring a mailing list. Mailing lists are important. Especially if I want to build a fanbase. 

This coming weekend, on October 22nd, 2022, I will be headed to Sarasota, Florida for the Bookstore1 Sarasota annual book fair. Bookstore1 is a very cute bookstore tucked in downtown Sarasota. They are around the corner and through the breezeway from a weekend market. I think there will be plenty of foot traffic for the book fair, which of course is a great thing.

Book fairs are also a chance to be outgoing and use my best sales pitch. I am basically carnival barking my book, trying to convince people to buy it instead of any of the other books for sale. But it is not a competition. It is a celebration of local authors and their creations.

But for real, Curveball at the Crossroads was runner-up, Best Book by a Local Author in 2021 for a reason.

The Bookstore1 Sarasota book fair should be a great time. Here is the link for more information:

https://www.sarasotabooks.com/fall2022-local-author-book-fair

Great Book Signing at Hello Again Books in Cocoa, Florida

On May 28th, I had another awesome book signing event. This time I was at Hello Again Books in Cocoa, Florida. 

I was really excited about this event as Cocoa is close to my parents' house and it was an opportunity for them to see me doing my author thing. My mother came by as well as my brother. I also had several friends come by, many from high school and some who have moved into the area through the years.

Years ago, my mother used to own her own bookstore. I used to think that I was at least as good of a writer as the worst writer in that store. That was my motivation to write a book and have it published. I wanted to be on the shelves of bookstores. 

To not only be on the shelves, but to be signing books and to have bookstores promote me as an event is icing on the cake. It is a very cool feeling. One that I doubt will get old any time soon.

Returning to the Crossroads and Selling My Debut Novel

In 2009, I took a trip to the Crossroads in Clarksdale, Mississippi. I journeyed there after five days in Memphis with no plan and no idea what to expect. As luck would have it, I arrived during the Sunflower River Blues and Gospel Music Festival. I had the pleasure of not only exploring Clarksdale, but also seeing some great local bands and meeting some great local people. Clarksdale was one of the highlights of that great adventure.

Thirteen years later, I finally returned to the Crossroads. This time, I brought my debut novel, Curveball at the Crossroads, which was highly influenced by my first trip to the Mississippi Delta.

I published the 2nd edition of Curveball at the Crossroads in November 2021. One of the biggest changes between the first and second edition is the new cover designed by famous blues artist Grego "Mojo Hand" Anderson. Grego was great to work with and did an amazing job capturing the essence of the book in the new cover. Best of all, I was able to piggyback on Grego's reputation to open more doors for the book. 

One of those doors was with Roger Stolle, owner of Cat Head Delta Blues Folk Art Store in Clarksdale. Roger carries a lot of Grego's art, so I knew Cat Head would be a logical fit for my book. After emailing Roger and sharing news of Curveball at the Crossroads, Roger agreed to order copies of my book and we discussed a possible book signing. He recommended I visit during the 2022 Juke Joint Festival. After looking up the event, I quickly bought my plane and event tickets.

Not only was I visiting Clarksdale again, but I was also having my first out-of-state book signing. 

To make things better, Clarksdale is Curveball at the Crossroads' spiritual home. I believe every book has a spiritual home. It could be the author's home, but it might not be. It might also be where a scene of the book takes place, but it also might not be. A book's spiritual home is the place that inspired the book. For example, if a visit to medieval castle inspired me to write a wrote a fantasy tale of knights and elves that took place in an imaginary kingdom, then that real life castle is my book's spiritual home. Although Curveball at the Crossroads takes place in Rosedale, Mississippi, Clarksdale is definitely its spiritual home.

Because I booked so late - I did not realize hotels for the Juke Joint Fest fill up a year out - I ended up in an Airbnb about an hour away in small Como, Mississippi. According to wikipedia, Como has a total area of two miles and is home to 1,200 people. Much smaller than my current home of Tampa, Florida.

Despite of, or perhaps because of its size, Como was the perfect place place to stay. It was quiet, it was serene, and my host and the guest house I stayed in was amazing. Couldn't have asked for a better place, even if my drives back from Clarksdale along Mississippi's dark, two-lane highways were kinda creepy. But that's part of the fun, and who knows, it might be the inspiration for another book or at least another scene.

I arrived in Mississippi on a Thursday afternoon. After checking in and unloading my bags, I drove to Oxford, Mississippi, home of the University of Mississippi and, more meaningful to me, Square Books, one of the most famous independent bookstores in the Southeast.

Square Books was everything I thought. A cozy, two-story bookstore in the middle of the town square, Square Books had a perfect mix of current best sellers and regional authors. After giving them a copy of Curveball at the Crossroads to sample, I bought a small pile of new books for my own collection. With luck, they will like Curveball at the Crossroads and I will be making a return trip to Square Books soon.

After grabbing a beer at an Ole Miss bar and eating dinner at a southern diner, I returned to Como to plot my weekend in Clarksdale. My book signing at Cat Head in Clarksdale was scheduled for noon, so I knew I had to leave early and get up even earlier. So after planning and plotting, and getting some new reading done, I called Day 1 of my adventure a success and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning, ate breakfast, got ready, said hello to the horses outside the guest house, and headed down to Clarksdale. Not knowing how busy Clarksdale or Cat Head specifically would be or the parking situation for the festival, I arrived an hour early. Although I got a good parking spot a short walk from Cat Head, Clarksdale was already buzzing. Bands and bluesmen were already playing and tourists were already milling about, buying t-shirts, festival programs, posters, and other blues memorabilia.

Clarksdale is not a very big town. Bigger than Como, but not very big compared to other metro areas. Downtown Clarksdale, home of the Blues Museum, the Ground Zero Blues Club, Cat Head, and several juke joints, is only a few blocks. But due to a decline in the national and regional economy, Clarksdale relies on its music festivals to generate revenue. Even though the Juke Joint Festival wasn't officially starting until Saturday, there were already several vendors and food stands on the streets of downtown Clarksdale. And wherever a performer could fit, there was someone playing the blues. They played in front of stores, in stores, on corners, on the railroad tracks, and even on the back of trucks. Live music was everywhere.

After briefly checking out the scene, I walked into Cat Head. Roger was already busy, but found the time to set me up in a front corner of his store. He had several copies of my book already in his store, so I grabbed all his copies for my table. I also brought several copies signed by cover artist Grego "Mojo Hand" Anderson.

Within five minutes of setting up, the first customer walked to my table looking to buy a book. When he saw I also had two Curveball at the Crossroads posters that I was using for the table, he offered to buy one of those as well. First customer, first sale. Also sold a poster to boot.

Customers ebbed and flowed through Cat Head for most of the early afternoon, perusing the shelves, checking out the wares, and for many, walking to my table to see what I had to offer. Within the first hour, I sold the copies Mojo Hand signed and was running low on the other copies. Over ten books were gone in the first hour. I was excited.

By the end of the second hour, I was out of books. Every copy Roger had in his table of books was sold. People were excited to talk baseball and blues. Among the customers who visited my table was Michael Kinsman, head of the San Diego Blues Festival. Michael and I talked about future orders and his idea of presenting the book to prominent blues media writers he knew. Not only did he buy a book, he wanted more to share with others!

All in all, it was a fantastic book signing. I did not expect to sell out. Even Roger admitted maybe he should have ordered more. But, on the other hand, two hours is a good amount of time for a book signing. I had the rest of the day and the rest of the festival to enjoy.

For the remainder of Friday, I walked the streets of Clarksdale, consulting my festival program on which bands will be in which bars when. I saw some absolutely fantastic acts, from acoustic street performers to full electric bands, culminating with Ted Drozdowski's Coyote Motel. Coyote Motel was blues with a stoner groove. Very cool stuff. In a bit of coincidence, one of their better tunes was called "Josh Gibson", after the 1930s Negro League baseball star. So baseball and the blues started and ended my day.

Driving back to my Airbnb Friday night was another adventure. The roads from Como to Clarksdale formed a square, with Como in the northeast corner and Clarksdale in the southwest. To return to Como, I could go north first, then west, or west first, then north. I decided to retrace the path I took to Clarksdale, heading north first, then west to return to Como. What I did not think about, however, was how dark and lonely those two-lane Mississippi highways were. Rural Mississippi at night is complete darkness. Ain't nothing out there but you, the road, the woods, and graveyards.

I woke up Saturday morning, again said hello to the horses, and drove back to Clarksdale. I started the day seeing renown bluesman Terry "Harmonica" Bean. Terry Bean was a must-see for me. Not only because of his music, but because of his backstory. Back in the 1980s, Terry Bean was a can't miss baseball prospect from the local high school. Legend has it, he could throw over 90 miles an hour with both arms, and was as good a pitcher as he was a hitter. He was the real deal with a ticket to the pros. Then it all came crashing down with an injury to his right arm.

If that sounds familiar, it's because it is the backstory of JaMark Reliford, the main character in Curveball at the Crossroads. Except, whereas JaMark made a deal with the Devil to return to baseball, Terry Bean followed in the footsteps of other family members and became a bluesman. He has been playing the blues ever since, travelling the roads and performing in small bars and juke joints throughout Mississippi. Along the way, he has become an encyclopedia of the region, blessing listeners with stories of how life used to be in the Delta.

Following Terry "Harmonica" Bean, I met with my old friend "St. Louis" Frank Chambers. Frank is another walking encyclopedia. He used to travel from St Louis to Clarksdale regularly until moving permanently to Clarksdale years ago. I met Frank at the Riverside Inn in Clarksdale during my first visit in 2009. The Riverside Inn is a historical landmark that the people of Clarksdale are refurbishing after years of wear and tear. In 2009, I stayed a few nights in the hotel and Frank was a regular in the lobby/lounge, mingling with the visitors and catching up with "Rat", the owner of the establishment. Frank and I connected on Facebook and have been in touch ever since. Although he doesn't go the festivals anymore and age is starting to catch up, he is still as connected and personable as ever. We went to Clarksdale's best (maybe only?) Mexican restaurant for lunch and caught up on the last 13 years.

After lunch, Frank and I went to the Riverside Inn to see how the old place was doing. The inn has seen better days structurally as a tree recently punctured the roof and the wooden foundation needs updating. But because it is a cultural landmark, they are getting grants and donations to fix it up. Although I stayed there during my first trip, I asked if one of the new caretakers for the old place could give me a tour. From Aretha Franklin to Ike Turner to JFK, Jr to Bessie Smith (who died in the building when it was a hospital), the names of people who stayed in the Riverside Inn is long and distinguished.

I said farewell to Frank, left the Riverside Inn, and returned downtown to the Juke Joint Festival. I stopped in the Delta Blues Museum as well as Ground Zero Blues Club. The Ground Zero Blues Club is partly owned by legendary actor Morgan Freeman and his picture graces the wall along with so many other blues and Clarksdale legends. I bounced around for a few more hours, saw a few more musicians, and even returned to Cat Head to buy myself some swag.

By Saturday evening, I had two shows left to see, Terry "Harmonica" Bean again and Christone "Kingfish" Ingram, a 23-year-old blues phenomenon who has already played the White House and won a Grammy. Kingfish was to not be missed.

Although I saw Terry "Harmonica" Bean earlier in the day, there were two reasons why I failed to give him a copy of my book after his morning show. The first reason was because I left before he finished. The second, and more important reason, was because I was out of books. However, in my visit to Cat Head, I saw they had two new copies of Curveball at the Crossroads among the books. So, yes, I bought a copy of my own book to give to someone else. Such is the life of a small writer.

When I got to the Delta Blues Alley Cafe, Terry was setting up. I was able to talk with him for a minute or two and present him with a book. He thanked me and told me that he was the Mississippi equivalent to classic '80s baseball stars Dwight Gooden or Bret Saberhagen. Hopefully we can talk baseball and blues again sometime. 

Terry "Harmonica" Bean's show early Saturday evening was a fun jam, not too dissimilar from his morning show, but with a better crowd. He rocked some John Lee Hooker-style boogie blues and got folks dancing. There was also beer served at the evening show, so alcohol was probably amplifying the audience participation.

But unfortunately for Terry "Harmonica" Bean, his show overlapped with the headliner for the entire festival, the star of the region, the next great blues ambassador, Christone "Kingfish" Ingram. After 30 minutes of Terry Bean, folks started filing out of the Blues Alley Cafe to walk the few blocks to Kingfish's show.

For some interesting reason, the concert coordinators of the Juke Joint Festival decided to set Kingfish up in an old bank, not outside on the main stage of the festival. The bank was a cavernous old building, with the word "BANK" outside, just as you expect an old bank to be in a old southern town. There were a few hundred chairs aligned inside the bank with band's setup along the back wall. Although the building had the frame of a bank, it lacked any of the inside bits and pieces, such as a teller counter, offices, and any other furniture. Perhaps it was biggest empty building in Clarksdale.

Layout aside, when I got there, I found a spot close to the side of the "stage". I was approximately 15 feet from Kingfish's left. So I never saw him head-on, but it was probably the closest I have ever been to a Grammy winner performance.

For those who haven't seen or heard of Kingfish, he is the real deal. Straight from the cast of Buddy Guy and the 3 Kings of the Blues - Albert, Freddie, and BB, Kingfish has the chops and riffs to play the blues the way the legends did. He has been blazing a path through the blues scene with his first two albums, already winning the aforementioned Grammy, being featured on national TV, and playing the White House for the Obamas back in 2015. He is as big a deal as deals come in the blues.

Interestingly, when I was scrolling through my pictures from my 2009 visit, I have a pic of Kingfish playing in a kid's band when he was 10 years old. Now 12 years later, I had a chance to see him again.

Kingfish did not disappoint. He rocked through several of his own songs and many blues standards. Although it was a short show - only an hour - he proved again that he is the future of traditional blues.

After Kingfish's stellar performance, I rolled back to Como, full of all new blues memories. My flight back to Tampa was early on Sunday, so I missed the final day of the 2022 Juke Joint Festival. But from my trip to Oxford, to my book signing, to lunch with an old friend, to closing with Kingfish, my return to the Crossroads was a huge success.

Book signing and Book Selling at Hello Again Books in Cocoa, FL 5/28/2022

 

I am super excited about this book signing. Whereas my last book signings we at my book's spiritual home, this book signing will take place where I grew up. 

Years ago, my mother owed a bookstore called Once and Again Bookstore in Melbourne, FL. Unfortunately, due to hurricanes, economics, and trends in book buying, she couldn't stay open. But it was there that I came up with the idea that I was at least as good as the worst writer in any bookstore. I still think that.

Now Curveball at the Crossroads is in multiple bookstores across Florida. Some are there on commission and some are there because the bookstore ordered them. Either way, readers can find my debut novel.

For many of these bookstores, I would like to do book signings. That requires coordinating and scheduling. On Saturday, May 28th, I will be at Hello Again Bookstore in Cocoa, Florida, the closest independent bookstore to where my mother had her own bookstore years ago.

Curveball at the Crossroads Book Signing at the Juke Joint Festival

 

Super excited about this news.

My book is going home. Home to the Crossroads.

I have been wanting to do a return trip to Clarksdale, Mississippi for several years and the publishing of Curveball at the Crossroads is providing the perfect opportunity. I will be signing copies of Curveball at the Crossroads at the Cat Head Delta Blues and Folk Art store in Clarksdale on Friday, April 22nd at noon to 1pm. 

I visited Cat Head years ago and it was one of the coolest stores I ever been to. Now to sign my book there and to be an advertised part of the festival is an awesome feeling. Big thanks to Roger, the owner of Cat Head for being receptive to the idea of me swinging by. And a big thanks to him for already posting Curveball at the Crossroads for sale on his website.

Also, for my book collectors: I will also be selling several copies of Curveball at the Crossroads signed by the cover artist, Grego "Mojohand" Anderson. Mojohand is famous in the blues scene as he has done countless posters, album covers, shirt designs, and anything that can show an image. He is fantastic and highly recommended if you like blues art.

My upcoming trip to Clarksdale will also be my first out-of-state book signing, so that also adds to the significance of the event. It is easy to market my book to my local area, but to have reasons to go interstate and spread the word about Curveball at the Crossroads is a great thing.

I hope to have some great pictures from Clarksdale. Hopefully some with a copy of Curveball at the Crossroads. After all, the Mississippi Delta is the spiritual home of Curveball at the Crossroads. 

Winging it in Key West

Last week, I finally visited Key West. Going to the Keys was on my to-do list for years. My first attempt was cancelled by Hurricane Irma in 2017. So after getting laid off of my job a few weeks ago and knowing no one was going to hire me in a week, I took off from Tampa to the Keys for a week of adventure. I had no plan, and only looked at a map the night before to figure out where I was going. 

Here is my running - or bar crawling - diary.

Monday - Day 0 

Attempted to leave but my car battery was dead. And a bird shit on me. Great start. Had to change my shirt and my battery.

Tuesday - Day 1

Left Tampa at nearly noon. An 8-hour drive highlighted by my ipod playing Moving Right Along by The Muppets amidst hours of hip hop and heavy metal. Arrived in Key West at nearly 9pm. Checked into my hotel and ate a good seafood dinner at Conch Republic Seafood Company.

Found a bar to watch the Rays game. Went back to the hotel and slept. 

Wednesday - Day 2 

Checked off the Hemmingway House. Not sure if there could be a modern equivalent of Hemmingway. Maybe Bert Kreischer if he was a writer? Hemmingway's writing tree house was cool. But they claim he wrote 500-700 words a day as if that was an accomplishment. I can write that shitty drunk. Which I guess is kinda what Hemmingway did.

(Writer's note: 1-2 pages per night was what i averaged writing my novel. But it took me eight years to edit it. But i digress.)

The Key West Lighthouse was cool. Talked to a nice old time historian at the top. He was full of information. Meeting him reminded me of a video game when you reach a location and engage with a talking character.

Ran into a friend and his wife at the Hemmingway Museum. Totally random. We decided to hang out for a bit. Went to the beach. I took a nap on a picnic table bench. That was fun. Relaxing.

Went to happy hour at Pepe's. Cheap tasty margaritas. Split with my friend. Went to the Waterfront Brewery and drank a few Crazy Lady Blond Ales. Very good local beer. Drove back to my hotel and took a siesta. Changed my t-shirt. Traveler's tip: pack two shirts per day. No need to be sweaty when you go drinking.

After an hour-long nap, I went to the Green Parrot. Awesome vibe. Any dive that plays a heavy dose of blues on the jukebox is A+ in my book. Drank a Green Parrot Session Ale. Good stuff. Made a joke about having too many Crazy Lady beers earlier that made the bartender chuckle. Or maybe he was glad to have business during a pandemic.

Quick aside number 1: Key West respected the mask rules, but seemed business as usual for the bars. They obviously had some tables and chairs removed, but everyone seemed really cool with the current rules and regulations needed to limit the spread of COVID-19. Wear your mask and respect people's space.

Walked down Duval St. Talked to a street musician about music for 30 minutes. Gave him $5 dollars for a good conversation. Also pitched my book, which he said he would totally buy. 

Went to Capt Tony's Saloon. Wow. Rarely has a bar reminded me more of Mos Eisley Space Port. I swear I saw Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes tuning in a corner. Unfortunately, shortly after I got there, they closed. So I guess I closed Capt Tony's first time I was there? Check that box.

Walking to find another bar, I saw a fight between two drunk male tourists arguing over a drunk girl. Cheers to them. Wandered with my Capt Tony's souvenir cup to Dirty Harry's for some live music. Grabbed a slice of pizza at Angelinas. Walked by my new musician friend and his friend, a bikini-clad woman named Kelly who had a bag of weed in her hand and complained about having to go to court in the morning on an assault charge she got fighting a local stripper. She seemed too fun for me. My music friend said she was a local legend. 

It was 1:30 AM and I called it a night. 

Thursday - Day 3 

Woke up with a blister on my foot. Would rather have a hangover. My flip flops betrayed me.

Had breakfast/lunch at Dante's. Was the first person at the bar. Talked local spots and sports with Todd the bartender. He had some cool stories about working in the Virgin Islands. A career slinging drinks throughout the Caribbean must be interesting. Drank fruity rum drinks until he suggested a Painkiller, a pineapple rum drink that was stronger and tastier than what I was drinking. 

Walked to the Truman Southern White House. Very cool. Enjoyed the history. Enjoyed the air conditioning. I asked them if they would have to cede their claim as Florida's only presidential museum if Mar-a-Largo ever opened up a presidential museum. The unprecedented questions abound. 

Visited the Key West Historical Museum. Most impressive. Very impressed and actually surprised by the long history of Key West. I didn't know any of the history. Walked to the Mallory Square market. Another place with great air conditioning. Reminded me of the inside markets of the Middle East with their individual vendors. Spoke with a metal artist about art and books  - to include my upcoming novel.

Quick aside number two: people in Key West seem very friendly, especially to another creative. Perhaps due to the inspiring nature of Key West and the abundance of art and creativity. Their kindness seems authentic. Not practiced-for-tourists-friendly or even Hooters girl-being-nice-for-tips-friendly, but genuinely nice.

Went to the Shipwreck Museum. Interesting. At this point, I was getting museumed out. Grabbed a beer at Alonzo's Oyster Bar. Nice view, but I wandered into the classy district. The yachts are bigger than my apartment and there were people there with collared shirts.

After a beer at Alonzo's, I went back to the hotel room for my daily siesta, t-shirt change, and to charge the phone. Keeping my phone charged was important. 

Following my nap, I went on the Key West Haunted Ghost tour. Definitely doomed and a good time. Especially during Halloween season. Some interestingly disturbing stories and well-decorated houses. But the irony of our ghost host wearing a face mask to protect us from covid-19 was not lost. Unless the corona virus is affecting the dead, the mask hurts the gimmick. I get it, it is necessary, and cheaper than a Plexiglas shield.

Following the tour of Key West undead spirits, I embarked on my final tour of Key West alcohol spirits. My first stop was Sloppy Joes. Good music. Good food. But a definite bachelorette party-safe vibe. I don't think I would see anyone with the death sentence on 12 systems hanging out there. At Sloppy Joes I had a good conversation with a bartender named Vicki and she personally recommended me at Joe's Tap Room. 

I dug the Tap Room. Fun alternative spot to the chaos and bacchanalia in Sloppy Joes. Made friends with Chris the bartender and a server named Holli. Holli invited me to Shots and Giggles after her shift. While walking there, she completed a Lebron James-esque, no-look, staying-in-stride toss of her beer bottle into a trash can. SportsCenter top 10 play.

Did I mention Key West allows drinking in the streets? I don't recommend this rule everywhere, but it is an awesome flex.

I drank at Shots and Giggles with Holli and other service industry folks until nearly 4am. They asked about my visit and I mentioned meeting the bikini-clad woman the night before. They knew exactly who I was talking about, confirmed her local infamy, and asked if she touched me. When I said no, they said good, but they wouldn't say why. I guess you don't want to be touched by Kelly the brawling, pot-smoking, bikini-clad local.

While drinking at Shots and Giggles I wondered if my expired parking pass was going get me ticketed. The people I was with promised I wouldn't be. When I eventually found my car, sure enough, there was no ticket. Believe the locals, is what I am saying.

Returned to my hotel room at 4:10am and promptly fell sleep. Another good night.

Friday - Day 4

Breakfast at IHOP. Omelettes and pancakes have a ton of calories and help cure hangovers.

Went to the East Martello Museum. Interesting military and cultural history. Saw Robert the Doll. When the bartender at Dante's told me about Robert, I thought it was a local gimmick - like seeing a dog faced boy or a shrunken head at a state fair freak show. Then other locals told me there experiences with him. Their stories were too convincing to be a hoax, unless the whole island is in on the joke. After hearing all these weird tales, I had to see Robert. As per custom, I asked if I could take his picture. When I asked that, the creepy piano music in his room paused for a moment, then continued. Or did I imagine that?

I then introduced Robert the Doll to my FSU travel gnome. I figured things can't get worse for FSU football, so I might as well ask for help from the spiritual realm. On the other hand, if things do get worse for FSU football, Robert did it.

Before leaving the East Martello Museum I had a great conversation with Kristina the guest services host. She mentioned she used to be a goth music host for USF radio in Tampa and used to hang out in Ybor City often. So we exchanged Ybor drinking stories.

On my way back to the mainland, stopped at Florida Keys Brewing Co. Funky, tied-dyed, little spot with good beer. After my beer, it was time to say goodbye to the Florida Keys. 

I like to think I accomplished a lot in my week in the Florida Keys. I am glad I went by myself. Going solo allowed me to choose my own adventure, and go where I wanted, when I wanted. I went down with no plan and completely winged it. I returned with new friends and new tales to tell. I will be back. 

Detained by Stormtroopers in Clearwater, Florida

I recently acquired Jedi robes. I bought them from an ancient dealer of fine attire in the cyberspace realm of the Amazon. They have served me well. Although not a Jedi, I do consider myself strong with the Force. Due to the cost of the Jedi Academy, I could never afford to be properly trained in the art of the Jedi. And now I am too old to begin my training. But wearing the robes of the Jedi is to me akin to wearing the sports jersey of my favorite team. I am showing my support to the cause.

So it was apropos that I wear my Jedi garb to Star Wars Night at the Clearwater Threshers baseball game. It was a fun night at the ballpark, good food, good people, and a great fireworks show.

Until I was detained. Apparently, Clearwater is under the rule of the Empire and had the 501st Legion patrolling the premises, looking for Jedi. Luckily, they let me go. I may or may not have used an amateur Jedi mind trick on them.

I'm glad I didn't bring the lightsaber I acquired on the moon of Ord Mantell.

No Grassroots in the Desert

For most of 2018 I lived in Doha, Qatar. Life in Doha was an amazing experience, full of cultural and culinary exploration. Doha is a beautiful city and a melting pot of various cultures and people.

But something was missing. Despite the beautiful skyline, expansive malls, and elaborate museums, sometimes Doha seemed fake, manufactured, and prefabricated, especially in entertainment. In my 9 months there, I only twice saw signs of an underground scene. I don't mean a subway, metro, or tube - Doha is building an extensive underground metro that will connect the city and possibly reduce traffic. What I am talking about is local entertainment. Especially entertainment that takes a stand and talks about struggle.

Like most Arabic cultures, Doha imports a lot of entertainment. There are DJs, dance clubs, and top 40 radio stations. International performers are brought in for concerts and performances.

EDM doesn't talk about the struggle. Top 40 rarely talks about the struggle - often quite the opposite. Very few English-speaking songs played in Qatar talk about the plight of the working class, although I was surprised one morning when the English Qatar National Radio played Dolly Parton's "9 to 5", a song about a woman's grind in the labor force that contains lyrics such as "It's a rich man's game / No matter what they call it / And you spend your life / Putting money in his wallet."

The closest I found to underground, anti-establishment entertainment was a local comedy show where comics poked fun at Qatari culture and a local rock concert. Both of these occurred in international hotels, where non-Qataris can congregate and enjoy alcohol and other things forbidden under Sharia Law. Of the two events, the rock concert was the most counter-culture, especially when a group of Filipinos covered songs from Rage Against the Machine. I did not expect that at all and I wonder if their selection was noticed by management.

While popular Qatari entertainment avoids stories of the lower class, many laborers in Qatar live in squalor, in poor neglected ghettos where men are packed in until their multi-year labor contracts expire. Amnesty International and other watchdogs occasionally publish reports on the conditions of immigrant workers and are usually the only outlets that broadcast their stories.

I would be very curious to know how many of the immigrant workers in Qatar's Industrial Zones are musically inclined. I wonder how many have instruments. Are they singing about their plight? Are they composing rap songs or poetry describing their conditions? It will be interesting to hear if Qatar's new Asian-speaking radio stations play any songs of struggle.

Coming from America, I found the lack of struggle in popular entertainment in Qatar very odd. American music is often full of struggle, from folk to punk to blues to hip-hop. For the first 100 years of American commercial broadcast, the struggle sold. It was music people could identify with, as America is a land of overcoming odds, rolling sleeves up, and the pursuing happiness.

Singing about struggle is an American tradition. According to an article by the US Library of Congress, 19th century Chinese migrant workers who worked on the US railroad sang songs about their experiences. As well, African slave music in the US has been well documented and is the foundation of much of America's current popular music.

Perhaps Qatar doesn't want people to hear the plight of workers or the lower class. Perhaps the government - specifically the Cultural Ministry - only wants people to see a crown jewel of the Middle East. They want Qatar to shine. Perhaps the powers that be in Qatar are scared that if enough people hear songs about the lower class, they will grow apathetic to their plight, or there may even be social change. Monarchies don't like social change unless they can control it.

That's why there is no underground in the desert. Because the underground has the potential to rise, and when it does, it often conflicts with power.