The Boy Speaks

Yesterday, while we killed time waiting for "the procedure", we enjoyed the beautiful afternoon in our back yard. As my wife and I sat the Boy wandered out. He laid down on the bench of his playtable, shut his eyes and didn't stir. I asked, "What are you up to, Boo?"

"Oh, I just enjoying the sun." As he spoke a puff of wind fluttered his hair across his forehead. Then he added lazily, hands clasped upon his chest, eyes still closed, "Hmm, it a touch breezy today."

My wife and I laughed as we always do when something absurdly adult comes out of his mouth, especially when he is as likely to have answered, "Cookie, cheese, konk!"

He speaks like that so often. Yesterday morning, while at the park he said to his sister, "We shouldn't walk on the grass. Much better that we use the pavement."

Is it normal for a 3 year old (closing in on 4) to speak like that? To sound like Noel Coward?

The Fix

Apologies for the lack of posts but I've been rather contemplative, what with Threepeat's accomodation arrangements. I also have a little procedure scheduled for this afternoon that will put an end to our reproductive ways. Now that will get a man to thinking.

So forgive me my literary failings while I come to terms with my self-authorized "gelding", as it were. My weekend will no doubt be spent with a pack of frozen peas in my nether region and a 100 yard stare on my visage.

Um, apologies as well for the visual.

The End Is Nigh

That's it. The economy is officially trashed - done for - completely screwed. The post office, due to massive deficits, has told congress it may need to drop one day of mail delivery a week - like say, Tuesdays - in order to balance the books.

Man, we can't even deliver the mail anymore.

What next? Electricity only on odd numbered days?

Clarence

I don't know if you wander over to Forest Roxx, Curry's music blog that I occasionally contribute to, but there are quite a few tasty treats to be found there.

I did a post there recently about the relatively unheralded guitarist, Clarence White, who died tragically in 1973 at the age of 29 when he was hit by a drunk driver while loading gear in his car after a gig. He was stunning - one of the founders of country rock, an innovator on the guitar like few others, a truly magnificent artist and a bit of an obsession of mine this week after a little reminder I got from the Padre.

I put together an assemblage of three songs to show off his remarkable abilities and amazing creativity. It's just audio with some images added.

The first is The Byrds (he was a member) live at Fillmore West doing King Apathy (a song that could be a template for half of Uncle Tupelo's act) - Clarence is frightening.

The second is The Kentucky Colonels (his family's bluegrass band) doing Fire On The Mountain in less than a minute - Clarence is too fast for words.

The last is the overlooked Gosdin Brothers doing Tell Me on which Clarence was a very young hired gun. It's White's masterpiece - listen as he takes a simple but tasty moon, spoon, june song and explodes it, especially the last 50 seconds, with (to use an old bebop term) bomb after bomb after bomb.


addendum:

The Padre, a pretty decent authority on White, hadn't ever heard the Gosdin Brothers track before today (it's pretty rare and obscure). When he heard it this afternoon he texted me. This is what he called the last solo of the song.

"Psychobilly, freeform, modally syncopated hickshred"

That about sums it up.

Rabbit Is Dead

I never appreciated his books till I heard him reading from one aloud. After that, his voice - its timbre and melody - resonated every time I read a passage. He was the first author that taught me to enjoy real, grown-up, adult books - made certain I experienced them rather than simply plodding through them. For that I am eternally grateful.

RIP John Updike