Any you, or reference to others other than me in this blog is because if your reading this then i have at least one other reader, other than myself.
Gracious ‘fans’, mostly honourable personages, gents, non-gents, ladies lardies, pieces-of-eight, peers, queers, general miscellaneous followers and wallowers, buddies, fat bodies, golden teeth, skin, eyes, aged skin without what’s within. To mothers and/or fathers, especially my brothers and too few sisters; brilliantly seductive ivory smiles mahogany flesh un-amended breath, breadth of love chanelers, peacemakers, free thinkers, forgivers, friends in deed.
Chit-Chat about old hats, vaults of stax, a straw that broke the camel’s back. Musing, writhing, opening a metaphorical can of whoop-ass to the empty audience, silent witnesses, too-little, knock knock, who’s there? Oh nobody… great, no one to hear, no one to fear, so
let’s be clear not to attract unwanted, deserved, attention, they say (whoever they are, suckers I say, if I ask myself, which I do, this is a blog, you know where the internet can check to see what I AM DOING, like I’m going to the toilet. Or I am just going to update my status) . good things come in threes. So if you please, without further ado, a subject, cause to affect, beef to roast, feathers to cuddle.
Behind a greater shadow of all things great, the light of an ever-changing mystery, The lesser frequency of the mostly un-great, but still deeply admirable, we say, Hip, Hip; Chin, Chin; The rhythm section, chin chin, Stirling bassanova driving bass funkishness…even the bass trombone, if there is such a thing.. Hip bloody Hip, Harp and fathothms of horn upon horn, hip hip, to Sudden sun, Good Song, Fats Domino, Longhair, Franklyn, Gaye, Peace, Kruder, Yorke, Washington, Simmone, Ellis, Family, Claypool, A combination involving Bobby Hughes, Brown, Wesley, Lewis, Smith, Maceo, Temptaion, Byrd, endless musical masters, mistresses, … Hip Hip, Chin Chin.
“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.
Abraham Lincoln, from his First Inaugural Address on March 4, 1861