Trying to break the blogging block ... pulled (What's the Story) Morning Glory? from the shelf today to provide a backdrop for the Saturday list of to-dos ... but what's been stuck in my head all day (and that's a good thing) is 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps' performed on the uke by Jake Shimabukuro.
Maybe I'll break the blogging block tomorrow ...
The holidays bring a mixed bag of eager anticipation for Christmas morning along with a lump-0f-coal funk stemming from work, shoppers and ghosts of Christmas past. This year's no different. Once again, stores started playing holiday tunes just a wee bit earlier, Thanksgiving snuck up just a wee bit faster, and I find myself with a wee bit more funk ...which means the inevitable "your year is ending" holiday is just around the corner.When I say Ro, you say Bot.And, of course, 'The Ice Cream Man.' (I should mention, there are whispering voices in this song and it does not look good for the Ice Cream Man, nor the Popcorn man for that matter.)
Ro. Bot.
Ro. Bot.
When I say Bot, you say Cat.
Bot. Cat.
Bot. Cat.
Day 5 of 'play all' and I was delivered this on the drive home last night:
The joy of shuffle.
Ok, so I'm not wearing a dress in this shot (rarely did, still rarely do) and the Billy Bragg show at Great American Music Hall was last week (fantastic) but I did see Little Miss Sunshine tonight and felt compelled to share this pic with the world (or at least the 2 people who read this blog).
I attempted a beauty pageant of sorts once. It was probably around 1978 (judging from my memories of a long dusty rose, polyester dress with spaghetti straps) and while it seemed like I primped forever in order to look my best when I attempted to glide down the catwalk, I still looked like a tomboy who'd never before seen a curling iron and would obviously be much happier in navy blue bell-bottomed cords and desert boots.
That was it. Done. Bring on the Rick James and embrace your inner Super Freak.
Off to the Big Star Tribute show ... blog off.
Ok. So occasionally I obsess. Or maybe it's more accurate to say when something catches my interest, I don't lightly dabble.
Case in point, 2 weeks ago, a friend re-strung my mom's childhood ukelele and provided me with a quick lesson post-work. Now, I've never attempted a song on the uke, but 15 minutes in, I was roughing out 'Back in the U.S.S.R.' That's it, I was done for. That night, I started cruising eBay and 3 days later, the winning bid secured a koa wood concert uke to fuel my new-found obsession.
Mom's lil' soprano uke is resting again as I now have a ukelele of my own. My uke arrived last Wednesday and nightly playing has turned out to be the perfect way to wipe away the work day. As George Harrison once wrote about the uke, "you can't play and not laugh!"
Last night, I played, laughed and went to bed with blisters on my fingers ...
Seeing a pink mohawk on the trolley put me at ease. Suddenly things felt normal. This was not the case during the majority of my time in Salt Lake City. It's a very clean place and everyone is quite friendly. However, I think my friend put it best when she commented that the real living in SLC must take place underground. I feel as tho' I spent 3 days in a land of facades.
Tonight, as another thrift-store dresser was taught to shop, I hear music to my ears ..."My personal style is that I'm a caffiene addict."
Ah, fellow java-junkie, thank you for that Monday night treat.
Of course, I don't have $5K for new rags so just have to enjoy a lil' vicarious living through the tube. But, as I learned tonight, if I were in the UK and converted my car from gasoline to propane, well then ...
"The government bungs you some wedge"
See, TV learns you stuff.
There are benefits to working at home ... First, a calendar of nekkid musicians from Austin would never fly in the office (July is Austin Lounge Lizards month).
Second, I can play my music as loud as I want without a knock from the the guy on the other side of the office wall asking me to turn it down (hey, it was a Friday night, what did he expect!?!). Today I have Mojo's Revolver Reloaded on heavy rotation. I think, quite possibly, Chris Eckman's almost spoken word version of "Yellow Submarine" could be my new favorite thing ... or maybe it's Mark Mulcahy with "She Said She Said or Jim Reid with "And Your Bird Can Sing" ... oh so many great things about this collection.
Third, slippers.
I could go on but, suffice to say, when working on a Monday that breaks up what could have been a 4-day weekend, home is the place to be.
