Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Ava and Willis
Looking for photos for an upcoming niece wedding, and I found this one of my maternal grandparents. I never really knew my grandmother, Ava, who died when I was four, but I was fortunate to have my grandfather around until I was 16.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Different Kind of Writer's Block
Kman and I usually catch the Sunday morning edition of Bob Phillips, Texas Country Reporter, and today's show had this guest, Austin Kleon, (looks like he could be kin to Robert Downey, Jr.) who employs a unique way to construct poetry: he picks up his permanent marker and a newspaper and goes to town striking out random words until the remainder slowly forms a totally new twist on words.
He's really creative and talented. Take some time to investigate his website. Hey, that Teabaggin' looks like fun! (I recall a similar exercise during a childhood vacation bible school art class with fingerpaints...)
Without trying to start with a title or topic, I picked up a copy of a local weekly paper distributed free on the street corners in downtown Cowtown and tried my hand at the "blocked" writing:
Obviously, I need some practice.
He's really creative and talented. Take some time to investigate his website. Hey, that Teabaggin' looks like fun! (I recall a similar exercise during a childhood vacation bible school art class with fingerpaints...)
Without trying to start with a title or topic, I picked up a copy of a local weekly paper distributed free on the street corners in downtown Cowtown and tried my hand at the "blocked" writing:
Star Trek guys and Griffey’s girlfriend slid beer across last Thursday. She remembered when her boyfriend vaguely smelled like bleach. The Spanish perspective read “My fingernails hurt”.
See – it’s a secret coin-toss to work out the kinks.
Checking out the frontier wingman to corroborate Twlight-Zonage: two things about a trip to something strange to scope out the frontier weirdos with onion breath.
Shooting the shit with the barman lookalike, an older dame slid into an old pro’s order of Purple Hooters. Sipping whiskey, nice and affable, she breached the wall with Napoleonic eating and onion free.
Silhouetting shady dude packed it up at the Chat Room. Aforementioned logic had flown farther, still foggy. Chilling domestic longnecks cackling over the pinball machine.
Obviously, I need some practice.
The Coolest
Every Picture Tells a Story, yes indeed, and Rod's album cover from his "The Best of..." certainly is cool!
Kman has been prodigiously burning our album collection to mp3's and cds, and every day my computer desk has a different pile of classic rock on it. Glancing across this morning, I spied the Rod Stewart album and it struck me how amusing and retro and cool the cover art was:
Album art has recently been "rediscovered", and while I agree with the sentiment, it is more than a little unsettling to suddenly think of your not-so-distant youth as now "classic" or "retro", or "cool".
Hmmm.
I suppose those adjectives are better than "ancient", or "old-fashioned", or "tacky".
Here's a fun link to peruse all those old albums you remembered when you were, well,..."classic". The Albumart webmaster says he (she?) will soon be revamping the site so that visitors can upload yet more rare album art finds from personal collections.
Like maybe this beauty?
Ah, funky psychedelic poster lettering, now that's really retro!
No, wait...it's "psssyyyeeecheeee-delic, man!. Groovy.
Yes, everyone loves the music of their youth, but I can honestly say without too much prejudice, my generation had memorable, lasting music:
One more lost-in-the-past indulgence, please, a little Stephen Stills and "Manassas" singing "It Doesn't Matter" to end this Sunday post. And don't you agree the contributions of Joe Lala (percussions) and Dallas Taylor (drums) makes this song scream nostalgia?
Kman has been prodigiously burning our album collection to mp3's and cds, and every day my computer desk has a different pile of classic rock on it. Glancing across this morning, I spied the Rod Stewart album and it struck me how amusing and retro and cool the cover art was:
Album art has recently been "rediscovered", and while I agree with the sentiment, it is more than a little unsettling to suddenly think of your not-so-distant youth as now "classic" or "retro", or "cool".
Hmmm.
I suppose those adjectives are better than "ancient", or "old-fashioned", or "tacky".
Here's a fun link to peruse all those old albums you remembered when you were, well,..."classic". The Albumart webmaster says he (she?) will soon be revamping the site so that visitors can upload yet more rare album art finds from personal collections.
Like maybe this beauty?
Ah, funky psychedelic poster lettering, now that's really retro!
No, wait...it's "psssyyyeeecheeee-delic, man!. Groovy.
Yes, everyone loves the music of their youth, but I can honestly say without too much prejudice, my generation had memorable, lasting music:
One more lost-in-the-past indulgence, please, a little Stephen Stills and "Manassas" singing "It Doesn't Matter" to end this Sunday post. And don't you agree the contributions of Joe Lala (percussions) and Dallas Taylor (drums) makes this song scream nostalgia?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Lame White Man
In the category of "You Just Can't Make This Shit Up", and on the day the Moonwalking Fool King of Pop passes into his next reincarnation, did you know this is concidentally also the anniversary of the death of Lame White Man, southern Cheyenne battle chief?
He was killed in the bloodbath known as Little Big Horn (referred to by Native Americas as the Battle of Greasy Grass Creek - no wonder it is better known by the first epithet).
Karmic humor?
He was killed in the bloodbath known as Little Big Horn (referred to by Native Americas as the Battle of Greasy Grass Creek - no wonder it is better known by the first epithet).
Warrior Chief of the Southern Cheyenne, age ca 38, one of 7 Cheyenne killed in fighting with Custer's troops (2, 25); he was in the sweat lodge of Tall Sioux when Reno attacked, and first helped his wife Twin Woman, his son Red Hat and his daughter Crane Woman escape the village (26); did not wear his warbonnet in this battle (13); but was wearing a blue coat he found tied behind the cantle of a captured saddle when he was shot and scalped by a Sioux who mistook him for an army scout in hand to hand fighting on the gunsmoke-shrouded battlefield (28, 3, 26); his Sioux name was Bearded Man and he is also identified as Mad Hearted Wolf (see Mad Wolf) (26) Montana.edu
Karmic humor?
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Rangers Baseball
Doin' my part to encourage new bloggers, my son-in-law has a brand new Texas Rangers Baseball blog. I think he's got plans for a college football site as well.
Beware, MB, blogging is addicting!
Stop by and give him a neighborly welcome to the blogsphere.
Beware, MB, blogging is addicting!
Stop by and give him a neighborly welcome to the blogsphere.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Forever Young
Amazing Neil. He is The Man of Rock!
Kman nailed it this evening when he said Crosby, Stills and Nash needed Neil, but he sure didn't need them.
Kman nailed it this evening when he said Crosby, Stills and Nash needed Neil, but he sure didn't need them.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Grateful Dads
My bloggy friend, Pete, and the quartet he performs with, The Grateful Dads, will be singing the national anthem at the Boston Red Sox game this Sunday (if Mother Nature doesn't play the mean old witch).
The Grateful Dads singing at a Red Sox game on Father's Day....perfect!
Break a leg, Pete!
The Grateful Dads singing at a Red Sox game on Father's Day....perfect!
Break a leg, Pete!
Free Opining! Open 24 Hours!
Here's your chance to participate in a totally unscientific poll. No door prize, no trophy, no goody bag; but you do get to spend your own two-cents worth of opinion!
Read the two samples below, and vote for the one YOU think is the most entertaining to read.
Then, I'll divulge who the authors are unless you can guess yourself (and, no, neither offering is my own invention).
AUTHOR EXAMPLE #1:
AUTHOR EXAMPLE #2:
Read the two samples below, and vote for the one YOU think is the most entertaining to read.
Then, I'll divulge who the authors are unless you can guess yourself (and, no, neither offering is my own invention).
AUTHOR EXAMPLE #1:
Ah, Shapiro, the victor of Waterloo drew apart to shed bitter tears for the dead (slain under his orders). Not so my ex-Missis. She does not live between two contradictory Testaments. She is stronger than Wellington. She wants to live in the delirious professions, as Valery calls them - trades in which the main instrument is your opinion of yourself and the raw material is your reputation or standing.
It was not terribly original, this idea of Shapiro's, but he did a good clear job. In my review I tried to suggest that clinical psychologists might write fascinating histories. Put professionals our of business. Megalomania for the Pharaohs and Caesars. Melancholia in the Middle Ages. Schizophrenia in the eighteenth century. And then this Bulgarian, Banowitch, seeing all power struggles in terms of paranoid mentality - a curious, creepy mind, that one, convinced that madness always rules the world. The Dictator must have living crowds and also a crowd of corpses.
AUTHOR EXAMPLE #2:
In Cleburne during the 1950s, we always looked forward to October. This meant the World Series, the Texas-Oklahoma football game, and the State Fair in Dallas. We just called it The Fair.
Actually, that's pretty much what it has been since its inception over a hundred years ago. With revenues of over $100 million for Dallas each year, the State Fair is second only to Christmas as a religious event.
The Fair of 1956 would prove to be especially religious for the teenaged girls of Cleburne. Elvis was coming. To the rest of the world, he wasn't The King yet, but he was to our girls.
The boys loved him, too, but we would never admit this to the girls. "He's not so hot," my argument went. "He's certainly no Sinatra. Why, when Sinatra opened at the Paramount Theatre in New York in 1941, thousands of girls got heart attacks - and died!"
But of course my psychology failed, and on that momentous night, hundreds of teenaged girls in hoop-skirts fetched their fathers' binoculars and squeezed into cars driven by desperate mothers and headed east on Highway 67, bound for pelvis-pumping, hip-gyrating, lip-curling, ducktailed glory at the Cotton Bowl. This convoy of ecstasy formed at the courthouse and reached all the way to back on West Henderson Street to the football stadium.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Uncle Vernon's Lie
Because of my post at Time Goes By (see the post just below this one), I stumbled upon a most touching and excellent short story written by Patrick Samphire:
Uncle Vernon's Lie
You have to read this piece. Though written for children and young adults, this wonderful little fantasy will grab you right from the first.
Samphire is such a talented writer, and I intend to fully indulge my inner child with more of his stories.
Uncle Vernon's Lie
You have to read this piece. Though written for children and young adults, this wonderful little fantasy will grab you right from the first.
Samphire is such a talented writer, and I intend to fully indulge my inner child with more of his stories.
Time Goes By Posting
Hey, just wanted to let TT friends know that I have a story posted at Ronni Bennett's Time Goes By blog today.
Ronni invited a few guest bloggers to fill in for her while she is traveling and attending a terrific and hard-to-come-by invitation to an aging seminar in New York City and I was thrilled to be included.
You can find my guest post here.
Be sure to take some time to peruse the offerings at Time Goes By. The elder bloggers on her sidebar are worth their weight in gold in terms of quality blogs and reading and I am both proud and honored to be on that list.
Ronni invited a few guest bloggers to fill in for her while she is traveling and attending a terrific and hard-to-come-by invitation to an aging seminar in New York City and I was thrilled to be included.
You can find my guest post here.
Be sure to take some time to peruse the offerings at Time Goes By. The elder bloggers on her sidebar are worth their weight in gold in terms of quality blogs and reading and I am both proud and honored to be on that list.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Texas Gals - Gotta Love 'Em!
Rochelle, Texas is about as small as Texas towns come. My maternal great grandmother lived there for years and years, and I remember it seemed to take ages to travel there by car when I was a kid.
So, when my cousin, Matthew, emailed me this link, I couldn't resist posting here. Hometown folks, and all...you know.
Congratulations to Bonnie for being both brainy (she's the class of '09's valedictorian) and a super athlete with an obvious dedication to goals.
You do both Rochelle and Texas proud, darlin'!
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Terlingua Ghost Town Cemetery
The following shots were taken over Memorial Day in the unique little town of Terlingua. Many young Mexican men died too early and in the prime of life while working for the Chisos Mining Company, which closed for good in 1944 when the money vein ran out. It once produced the largest amount of mercury in the country.
Howard Perry owned the mine and lived in a fancy mansion up on a hilltop overlooking his mercury empire. Strong-arming big rocks for about $1.50 a day, the Mexican laborers might have cleared $400.00 a year, while Perry earned close to $4,000 per worker. The old mansion is still standing in Terlingua Ghost Town.
The little cemetery was forgotten for many decades. Recently, family members and the funky community of Terlingua have worked to get it cleaned up.
I mean no disrespect by the posting of these shots, just thought the last couple of headstones quite creative and different.
Old Perry mansion:
Howard Perry owned the mine and lived in a fancy mansion up on a hilltop overlooking his mercury empire. Strong-arming big rocks for about $1.50 a day, the Mexican laborers might have cleared $400.00 a year, while Perry earned close to $4,000 per worker. The old mansion is still standing in Terlingua Ghost Town.
The little cemetery was forgotten for many decades. Recently, family members and the funky community of Terlingua have worked to get it cleaned up.
I mean no disrespect by the posting of these shots, just thought the last couple of headstones quite creative and different.
Old Perry mansion:
...The biographical equivalent of 12 hour chili - Sticks to the ribs! -
