It’s just random crap, culled from the web and my disjointed mind, and I was hoping I could get through the week with no further mention of the local mania, that little music thing going on. But I can’t.
Pepper spray:
Pepper kills some cancer cells. But 400 milligrams? I wonder how much chili that takes?
West Texas notes:
Shooter Jennings, Kevin Fowler, Billy Joe Shaver, Gary P. Nunn? All in March at Dos Amigos in Odessa (Ector County).
Reading notes:
Could’ve been the late hour, could’ve been a number of other factors, like, the series is pretty good at myth and erases the fine line between this world and some other place, but Rudolofo Anaya’s Jemez Spring did bring a tear to my eye.
I can’t say I can recommend this sort of novel for most people, as there’s a wealth of literary allusions, more so in the last novel, that combines Eastern, Western, Northern European, Native, Biblical, Meso-American, just about any kind of tradition, plus smattering of New Age smirking that’s just lurking beneath the surface…. But I enjoyed it thoroughly. However, I did back up and reread two previous novels, sort of in a series, and I never did find the one passage I was searching for.
I’m keeping all five of the books in my library, but then, I’ve lived in that land, bounced through there a time or two, and still have affection for the area. It’s good material, rich enough – for my tastes – to reread on occasion.
CSR:
Can these really be true? Have we sunk that low?
Spooky?
From the inbound afternoon mail:
>So your scope was so … exactly.
>
>I’m listening to that Come Monday song right now.
(And an Aries note like that makes me grateful.)
In the night, a dark barked:
Subtitle: Two-part harmony
[style=floatpicright]
[/style]I rounded the corner from the trailer park’s convenience store, wondering if I had enough quarters for a newspaper – the Houston Chronicle is still the most entertaining – and a fairly clean-cut looking guy stands up, shakes my hand, I think, and we proceed to talk about music, beer & bait. Sand bass in Texoma (lake). And many more items. Taurus, married to a Sagittarius, who, I must add, is quite the enthusiastic “little woman.” Her Duchess? Was that the correct moniker? Made my day to put a face with a web log.
Endless energy, but then, visitors are like that. We eventually hopped in the truck, and promptly got lost on the way to another venue, wherein his wife did join us, and they proceeded to have technical difficulties with equipment.
One band was sawing through a set, which was more like about three songs, then three more songs with two – looked like – baritone saxophones. The act we’d come to see jumped up on stage, ran through three numbers or so, and then called it a day.
During the set change, the singular comment that was both poignant and funny, see this one band from Ft. Worth, the lead is this kid, strong vocals, good guitars, good music, and it’s basically roots rock, whatever that means, and there’s pedal steel guitar – seemed a lot older than the rest of the band.
“Yeah, that’s his dad, sort of hard to say, ‘this isn’t your father’s rock and roll,’ now don’t it?”
I walked home along the ill-fated railroad right-of-way, and considered stopping off at a number of places, but I never made it. When I finally got home, I looked through the inbound mail, and certain friend has just suffered a traumatic experience, and she didn’t bother to call, just e-mail, so I called her up.
After venting and so forth, I fixed a web page problem for her, and then she decided on dinner.
“But where can we go that doesn’t have any badges?”
“Badges? We ain’t got no badges. We don’t need no badges. I don’t have to show you any stinking badges!” (Treasure of the Sierra Madre)
East Austin. Better yet, a little place I know in East Austin where we were the only native English speakers. Made for some good evening tacos.
Westward Ho!
No more red-eye to West Texas, but a bona-fide afternoon .
