August 22nd, 2004

abstract butterfly

on being less in the abstract

"In fear every day, every evening,
He calls her aloud from above,
Carefully watched for a reason,
Painstaking devotion and love,
Surrendered to self preservation,
From others who care for themselves.
A blindness that touches perfection,
But hurts just like anything else".--from an old Joy Division song

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abstract butterfly

flautists unite

I spent the late afternoon and evening returning my niece to Texarkana, where she rejoined her mom for the return trip to Arkansas. We stopped at Williams Chicken at Mount Pleasant. Williams Chicken serves really good peanut fried chicken. We ate at nice picnic tables they had outside, beside attractive sago palm looking things. My niece learned first hand what liberal squeezing of the jalapeno on the chicken can mean.

On the way back, I listened to the Ten Years After portion of the Woodstock concert. I had forgotten how Alvin Lee and Company loved blues, and just amplified the heck out of them. I miss bands like Ten Years After and Mountain that just turned up the volume. I tend not to think of myself as a blues fan, or rather not as a fan of "electric blues", a holdover from my college days, when every bar band could play every common blues song about the virtues of comfort over speed, as well as "Tequila Sunrise". Yet Foghat is definitely among my guilty pleasures. Mountain, Ten Years After, ZZ Top. I was thinking tonight of the glory of "La Grange". Do I contradict myself? Phone the Walt Whitman foundation.

I stopped at the Love's Truck Stop for gas, where they always have music on sale inexpensively. I got a Marvin Gaye CD, and enjoyed "Mercy, mercy Me", and listened to Marshall Tucker Band play "Heard it in a Love Song". Marshall Tucker Band gets the prize for "second best use of a flute in a rock song", being edged out by
"Living in the Past". The William Hung Flute Award, by the way, goes to "Billy, Don't be a Hero".

It was a good weekend, but somehow I almost need another weekend to rest.