More random travel notations:
Musical travel notes:
“The politics of dancing – the politics of feeling good”
The Re-flex (no link)
With songs on iTunes going for 99 cents, is $9.99 too much for a song? Yes and no.
The only place I’ve been able to locate a copy of that one song is on a cheesy compilation set, “1980 New Wave.” To me, it’s more than that. Or less than that, pop from 20 years ago? 25 years ago? I think I’ve dated women younger than the song. But considering the effort I’ve put into it, finding that one song, buying a whole set for one song? It was worth it. Clean, clear digital song file now. Legally mine.
Floyd:
Interstellar Overdrive seemed just right for west-bound aircraft.
Hank:
“I’m a long gone daddy.” (Hank Williams)
E-mail commentary:
“Well, in my limited experience, males are irrational about 60% of the time. The rest of the time? They’re usually asleep.”
That’s just weird:
Three-way fire action on Friday morning – started with an Aries reading, then an Aries girl came by to pick me up for lunch and ride me to the airport. While waiting on the badges to get out of our way, on Lower Congress, we walked a few steps and street vendor took one look at me, “I know you!”
Sagittarius. Sort of strange, the Aries by by my side, addressing, looking at lingerie. I started fielding questions, the way I usually I do, “What’s up with this, what’s that,” and so on. I was offered money, clothing, and other things, I’m guessing, but we hastened back to make our luncheon appointment. I don’t know what the rush was, plane was late. Not like it matters, either.
“See Kramer? You just know everyone.”
I’d protest, but when I did a tuck and roll at the airport’s terminal, as I got up and brushed myself off, the baggage handler said hello, “Where is it you’re going today? El Paso? Dallas?”
Midland. Midland – Odessa.
Two points, on the way in to the hotel: one was a billboard ad. Now, waiting for the suitcases to drop, why is it the smaller the airport, the longer it takes, anyway, there was typical cowboy looking feller, boots, dirty jeans and ball cap, and the jeans were tucked into the boots. Means a working guy. So the billboard? It shows boots, spurs, barb wire, but the jeans are bellbottoms – outside the boots. In cowboy country? I wonder if it flies, or if there’s a hidden ironic message.
The shuttle driver? “Hey, you’re here for that psychic thing.”
Alongside the highway, just off the interstate, there’s a new marquee – certainly wasn’t here last time I was – it’s a new Drive-In. A movie drive-in. New.
I commented, and the driver replied, “Yeah, it’s packed every weekend.”
Traffic spike:
About Austin.
(Hint: it’s referred to as “irony,” in its truest form.)
Hat tip:
TFG. One cool (insert appropriate terminology here).
Noises:
There’s something ultimately satisfying about the gentle twang as I settled into the Permian Basin cadence of language..
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