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Thursday, June 3, 2010


microcosm of the macrocosm

The day's project about made a blubbering mess of me. I made on the computer two columns for the cd project. One was a list of titles and who was playing what. The other column was a little bit of information identifying the fiddlers. Trying to do things with a computer I don't know how to do, figuring it out as I go along, taking 3 times as long as somebody who knew what they were doing. That's ok. I got er done. Made 100 inserts for the Jr Maxwell cd due some day soon. I was told last Friday it would be this week, but if it's not tomorrow, it will be next week. It's all right. I'm on mountain time. I took my copies of what I wanted printed to Kerr Drug, and with the help of an English bloke working there who operated the machine and did everything right, easily, I got my printing done. I was impressed. And grateful. I was feeling all thumbs after what I went through to get those two columns written and in place the way I wanted things. I wanted to use a picture, but that was another thing I'd have to learn in the doing. It was easy to talk myself out of it. The cd itself might have a picture on it.

From there to Register of Deeds to use their paper chopper to cut the papers down the middle and the tops and bottoms off, a quarter inch each, to be able to fold them and fit them in the sleeve with only 1 fold. At home, I inserted the info
sheet into the envelopes. One envelope left over, meaning one of the 99 has 2 in it. It will go on having 2. I have the original on paper the copies were made from. It will be my copy. I'll put mine in a plastic case. It will be the copy I play from at the radio station. The station will have a copy. A short time before I sat down to write, it came to me the guitar picker with Jr and Art Wooten is probably Wayne Henderson. Jr had some 8track tapes with himself, Art and Wayne. This was when Wayne was much younger. Before the face hair. I have some of Jr's 8tracks on cassette. The sound quality was terrible. I'll be able to recognize the guitar enough to tell whether or not they're the same. If it is Wayne, and by now I'm convinced it is, I'll have to go back over today's work with a pen and include him on every one, out of respect for him. I'll see to it he gets a copy and an explanation.

While stuffing the envelopes I watched a collection of videos of the rock band GARBAGE. Shirley Manson is vocalist, one of the women in rock like Siouxsie Sioux, Patti Smith and other punk women, like Lena Lovitch and Nina Hagen. Vocally aggressive. She's only happy when it rains. It's a band of sounds, not melodies. They play abstract guitar runs in the manner of Tom Morello with Rage Against the Machine, though in their own manner. Papa Roach does this kind of playing too. Shirley's persona is a sassy, self-centered bitch. The one you don't push. She makes her own decisions. The band's sound has a sharp edge, wildly imaginative guitar work around her razor's edge vocals, hot as fire, cold as ice.

Looking at the music I tend to play when I want to hear some rock, it turns out the Psychedelic Furs I play quite a lot. They always satisfy me musically. Mazzy Starr with Hope Sandoval's lovely, vulnerable voice. Garbage. Early Black Uhuru. Burning Spear. Peter Tosh. Taj Mahal. The Clash. Joy Division. Steve Earle. Bryan Ferry. Bob Dylan. Lucinda Williams. These are the people I tend to listen to when I want to hear something besides mountain music in this time of my life, or classical, which I listen to most. I don't need to keep up any more with what's new. I have a self-indulgent collection of music that was all once new. I like Lou Reed's music, but the curmudgeon from the dark side doesn't trip my trigger any more. My view of the world around me has changed since back in the days when my attitude was along the lines of his. I appreciate him immensely as an artist, the reason I mention him.

Driving to town and driving back from town I heard John Waters interviewed on Fresh Air. He's a character. He has the mind of a natural-born comedian. He deals in off-the-wall comedy so crazy it borderlines slapstick. He's a zany guy free within to be himself and live his life. He made some movies that have their place in American independent film. I liked hearing him talk. He spoke insightfully about a lot of things, everything they talked about. He has a lively mind and a self-disciplined mind I can only appreciate. The interview was on one station going into town and on another coming back. He was kind of a dadaist of film. He was a chopping block, cut off what went before in film and did it like he was making the first film. A wild man of the mind.

Having a good time within these days. I go around and see friends now. Took Marsha at Farmer's Hardware the radio show's coffee mug. She was a sponsor for several years, which I'll always appreciate, and Marsha's my friend. I wanted her to have it for that reason too. It makes my head swim to think of how fast they disappeared. I gave them to people I know listen to the show and gave away 5 over the air. Everyone who sees it loves the picture made by Lenke Pasley, age 4, of her daddy pickin his banjo. The picture has a beautiful spirit. The face is a round smiley face with a better than half circle smile. It's like a sun with rays running out from it all the way around, Lucas's hair. It tells me her daddy is the light of her life. He's a stick figure sitting on a chair without legs. The banjo is heart-shaped with a line running out from it for the neck. I thought about making the heart red, but then it would only be a heart, when it's representing a banjo. I take it for both heart and banjo, so I went with white so it is a banjo first and heart next. Or it's a heart first and banjo second. Either way, it's both, not only a heart.

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