"That Guy Can't Sing"

I'm at home listening to music.  Bob Dylan blares from the speakers.  My daughter turns it off and says, "That guy can't sing, Daddy."

poetica

check out the book bone light. props to orlando white.

ya dig?

currently reading, currently listening, currently watching, respectfully

Madras on Rainy Days by Samina Ali

L.A. Woman by The Doors

Black & White directed by James Toback

Elk Soldier has a new CD

A big hoka hey for Elk Soldier.  They have a new CD out called The Elk Dreamers.  Check it out.  And if you haven't heard their other CDs, The Elk Way & A Soldier's Dream, make sure to track them down.  aho!

two topics for tonight

1.  It's fight night!!! Manny Pacquiao vs.  Ricky Hatton.  I'm about to pop some popcorn and enjoy. I absolutely love the sweet science.

2.  Birds birds birds.  At my feeder today:  Cardinal, Cedar Waxwing, House Wren, Black Capped Chickadee, Nuthatch, red headed woodpecker.  Joy joy joy.

Random Memory

Me:  In high school (parenthetical thought: teenage angst, acne, clumsy and awkward all come to mind but this isn’t a memory about those word associations.  Though I may want to address them later on in our discussion.  Probably not.) and our gym class takes a field trip to a bowling alley.  A big clock on a dingy wall overlooks the lanes.  It slowly ticks eating our time away.  Science class looms.

 

Then, a thought.  One thought. One teenaged, testosteroned thought.  Jump up and move the clock-hand back five minutes!

 

But could I?  Could I take the chance at a scolding (our gym teacher was, if anything at all, intimidating)? Could I risk detention?  I could.  And I did.  I leaped up and pushed the big hand back five.  Five more minutes of thunder as balls crashed into pins. Five more minutes of the sound of shoes sliding across grains of wood. Five minutes less of science.  And I never got caught.