I flew into Medford, Oregon last weekend to celebrate Halloween and my oldest-friend-in-the-world's 4oth Birthday.
Having known Dee-Wayne since the third grade I did not want to miss his rite of passage into the ranks of old guy-dom. Earlier in the year, I'd missed another best buddy's 40th -had been racked with guilt- and was not about to miss another!
Not long after I touched down, we ended up in Ashford, and drank our drinks while the Halloween festivities raged 'round us.
Then, about half-way through the evening, Dee-Wayne's wife asked the difference in our age:
"8 months," said Dee-Wayne.
"But that would make you forty-one," I said, after doing the math.
Did the mountain after work, Tuesday night, then got into my truck, tuned in the radio, and went down to Nashville.
True, Nashville ain't Knoxville (the only Tennessee city I'd normally visit)* but that night held precedence.
It was to be a battle of wits, twixt the Maverick and the Changeling, and I was morbidly compelled to observe.**
My subsequent synopsis? Pretty much the same old crap - you did this and I did that - but the boys did seem to be a bit more focused than on previous occasion.
Amazing how a crisis can do that.
Following that line of logic, however, the two old gunfighters should be able to shoot the eye off a gnat come the next go 'round.
The Dow's getting beat down like a red-haired step-child and the rest of the world is holding it's breath, waiting to see what happens next.
Like that old saying goes:
May you live in interesting times
*Yeah - Nashville has the Grand Ole Opry but I'd rather drop my genitals in a juicer. Knoxville, on the other hand, has that elusive, Austin-like mix of music and counterculture that's like a baby bear's bed - just right!
**Sorta like that horrible, bone splintering accident you can't avert your eyes from.
Well, it's kinda like that. *"I'll tell you how the sun rose" - Emily Dickinsonpub. 1924 **Photos of the Westward Ho, above, were taken between sips of coffee from the balcony at our "beige condo" in downtown Phoenix, Az. ***The coffee mug was provided by none other than the late, great, Wallace P. Wold - who still lives on in our hearts.
For those who didn't see last night's debate (unlikely, though that might be) Sara Palin offered strong rebuttal to those who had called for her resignation as a vice presidential candidate.
Strongly rebounding from a disastrous interview with Katie Couric, Palin gave the appearance of confidence and even some polish, especially in comparison with her former performance.
Armed with a like-ability, physical appeal and down-homesy charm (evidenced with phrases like, "say it ain't so, Joe!") this is one soccer mom/"maverick" who can definitely pack a political punch!
Unfortunately, the Couric interview is still in evidence (and readily available for viewing at YouTube.com) but owing to the american public's proclivity for only the most up-to-date information, that earlier interview may just well fade from awareness.
Of course, if you haven't seen it, and would like to see our potential presidential potentate in action - just for a point of comparison, of course - you may want to click on the video below.
The sun is a bleached white light, slanting sideways through the blinds and I am listening to Saul Williams, "The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust!", while going through some old computer files.
For those not familiar with Saul Williams, he is an NY Slam Poet Champ, and his album is available online. I bought it last year, unheard, based on a glowing review -but- after listening once or twice shelved it for what I deemed to be overuse of the "N" word.
Then, more recently, I ended up listening again via Ipod while ascending the mountain and it's kinda grown on me, since.
The arrangements are interesting and though they can be a bit heavy handed with Trent Reznor-isms (who produced the album) there is a vibrancy and sometimes angry energy that pushes things along.
And the lyrics?
Lenny Bruce's "Nigger, Wop, Kike, Spic" routine comes to mind, (one song, especially) but that's just the tip of the iceberg.
Let's just say Saul Williams is a dude who likes to play with perceptions and words are his little mirrors of misdirection. Or maybe he just like's effing with people's heads, but it's not always easy to tell where the bottom line is.
The album cover, for instance, is a cross between Tupac and Disney. We see a black man's bare chest, adorned with jewelry, but he's this holding cute little kitten - and it's wearing an eye-patch - a cute little gangsta' kitty. Hunh?
And then there's the title song, "Niggy Tardust," an obvious David Bowie reference, but with no other connection, musical or otherwise, that I can identify. And I've looked, believe me. Anyway...
During the title song, just before the refrain, white people are advised, not to call Niggy, "Niggy," but Curtis.
Followed by the refrain:
When I say "Niggy" You say nothin'...
Niggy! (No response) Niggy! (No reponse)
When I say Niggy, You say nothin':
Niggy (No response) Niggy NOTHING! - Shutup.
Which could sound a little in-your-face but also comes off as kind of humorous.
But why take my word for it? Listen for yourself:
Think you got it all the first time? Maybe. But you should note the line:
"Threshold king of everything, a comical absurdist"
Which puts an interesting spin on things.
And the bottom line?
It's all you, man.
Oh yeah, and the above is a self-portrait I came across yesterday while going through some stuff. This was supposed to be about that, but I got a little side tracked.
Taken last Thursday, the object on the left is a ticket dispenser for the new Phoenix Light Rail, scheduled to begin service around New Year's Eve.
