Thanks, WordPress!…

I was just re-reading a few of my recent posts, and realizing why it seems so very unlikely that too many readers would ever leave a comment. Comments are appreciated because they help to validate the writer; we have made contact with the aliens, and they are glad to see us. What a relief!

That’s one of my biggest problems right there. I can barely resist the urge to slide in a cryptic reference or two, and very often, a post will take on a life of its own based on that; and gleefully change direction completely. I seldom seem to ever make the point that I originally had in mind.

But it’s an awful lot of fun anyway, at the end of the day, and I would certainly recommend this sort of thing to anyone who’s ever been enticed by the notion of writing. Just throw some stuff at the wall, and see what sticks. It’s a terrific form of therapy. Oh, the places you’ll go…

See? A more seasoned and mature writer would have left that out…there just was no need for that. None whatsoever.

I’ve also taken note recently that the more successful mainstream blogs are very specific in their content. They’re about THE NEWS, or about POETRY, or about POPULAR MUSIC. That only stands to reason, but it seems that if you don’t loudly proclaim yourself as a SERIOUS WRITER somehow, then you haven’t much chance of gaining an audience. ( I have apparently discovered the ‘shift’ key. I will refrain from overuse.)

So the world seems to care not about my two treasured old brown coffee cups, each of which flew off the roof of my car. That post was fun to write; you start off with coffee cups, and end up having a disturbing conversation with St. Peter about your chances of getting into heaven. You can’t make this stuff up.

Actually, you can, and you should. It’s marvelous fun, and we should offer many thanks to WordPress, who literally makes all this happen. Aspiring puddle writers the world over all get a chance to get their feet wet, and some pretty damned good material comes about as a result. One needs to conquer one’s fear of the ‘ publish’ button…

So I’ll keep at it…and many thousands of others will, too. I’ll read yours, and you’ll read mine;  but I’m not sure how we might ever find one another in this gigantic blogoshpere.

But this is for sure…if I read yours, I’m almost certain to leave a comment…



Published in: on August 27, 2012 at 6:53 pm  Comments (9)  

Not E Major…

For the last few days, I’ve had yet another old Band song running through my head. This one’s titled ” Sleeping “, from the Stage Fright album. It’s quite catchy, and, as I do, I find myself not only enjoying the pleasant companionship but also slowly taking the piece apart as it runs and looking at it from the inside.

” Sleeping” is in 3/4 time; that’s fairly unusual right there. Richard Manuel had such an expressive voice, and the chorus is not only catchy, but actually swings, the way an old big band song would. Very cool.

But what really caught me was not being able to quite determine what key it’s in. I can typically get that pretty easily, just from hearing a few guitar chords in use. This one seemed to have E Major written all over it… a favorite of bluesy/rockabilly/ country guys. It plays very easily on guitar, and Robbie Robertson is a classic Fender Tele/ TwinReverb guy all the way.

But still…not quite. I finally gave up, and looked it up on a few websites.

It’s in F major. Now that’s only one half-step higher, but means that guitar and bass both have to work bit harder, and that’s why E major usually wins out in the end. But it does offer a very different dynamic.

As I poked around a bit more, I noticed that a lot of Band stuff was in F major; curious and interesting.

And, as I was leafing through some old photos, I came across this;

This is the handout from Rick‘s memorial service.

Now that’s even cooler than playing in F, when you might just as easily have chosen E.

I wonder what will start playing next…


” I’ll take ‘ potpourri’ for a thousand, Alex…”

Answer: Four really good coffee cups, a cherished old gray felt planter’s hat with a bullet hole in it, a Sony Car Discman, a 36. cal. Remington revolver, several umbrellas, a Craftsman ratchet set, a small Hawaiian pizza, a sleeve of CD-Rs, a Teletubbie ( LaLa ), a Toro electric hedge trimmer, and a Blue’s Clue’s pad with erasable magic marker.

Question: Things that have rolled off the top of R.Coyne’s car and ended up in the road?…

It’s tough being me sometimes. On a good day, I’m sharp, precise, well-organized, witty, funny, boyishly charming….on a bad day, I’ll wander from one room to another, only to wonder why I left the room I was just in; and hoping that if I just wait a few seconds, the neurons will finally fire and I’ll know why I’m there.

It seems, however, that I’m waiting longer than ever these days… I’ve even taken to patiently looking around for something else I might attend to in the new location, seeing as how I’ve already gone to the trouble of going there. And there’s always a chance that the new thing actually could be the same as the original thing, whatever the hell that was.

And if I’m at all in a hurry ( always…) I’m liable to leave anything smaller than a pony on the roof of the car as I drive off in my haste. I put the item there while I unlock the car door, very time-efficiently get in, and off I go; only to notice said item flying away from the vehicle in the rear-view a few minutes later. ( Not entirely true; I have actually lost things that are larger than a pony; a 12×12 ft. wall tent, for instance, with ropes, stakes, poles, and all. Forgot to put the damned bungee cords on.)

Most of the items were recovered, some none the worse for it. The revolver was holstered and unloaded, the Discman skipped a lot anyway, about half of the ratchet set… the food items are a complete loss, of course; the five-second rule just doesn’t work in these cases. Alas, pineapple chunks that have flown into the breakdown lane cannot be retrieved. They just don’t make pizza boxes like they used to.

I sadly remember once glancing in the rear view as my then -two-year old niece Olivia was fretting in her carseat; she had only three of her precious Tubbies clutched to her bosom, and at that very moment I watched LaLa fly off the roof and into the grill of a UPS truck behind us. Olivia never knew the truth, and LaLa recovered nicely in the wash; and if I can someday manage to just slide past St. Peter with my part Catholic/ part Baptist E-Z Pass ( available at the DMV! ) then all might yet be forgiven.

” Hey, hold on there…You! Yes you, in the oddly stylish infantry jacket…you’re the guy! The Tubbies guy! Get back here! And stop crying! This is Heaven, for God’s sake! Haven’t you read anything? Where are you from, Rhode Island? …Oh, well that explains it…and BTW, we also saw you pick up the pizza…five seconds, my sainted ass…and not to mention lying… right in the middle of one of your own stupid blog posts. Just step off to the side there and wait for the shuttle bus. We’ll have to open up your case file…yes, your mom and dad are here…no…they’re not picking up right now. They’ve had quite enough of your crap, thank you. A lifetimes’ worth, actually, and enough is enough. We say that a lot up here. You’ll probably be hearing that all day… now stop sniveling and get on the damned bus. Yes…that is why it says ” Damned Bus.” And that is an ex of yours driving it…Wow. Your case file has been partitioned. Son of a bitch…Dude, you are totally …like…screwed. But you didn’t hear that from me…

Did You Freaking See That??

I’m a bit long in the tooth for this, but…

I think I have some brand- new heroes.

Nope. Not guitar players. Nobody musical.

Admittedly nothing to match the scale set by Generals T. Jackson or P. Cleburne.

Not Bird/ McHale/ Parrish/ Ainge/ Johnson, either.  They seem a bit pedestrian in comparison. Nope…

It’s girls.

Young girls.

Young girls playing soccer.

In the Olympics.

Just watched the US and Canada in the semi- final match; the winner plays Japan.

I don’t quite understand this game. In American football, at least there are shoulder pads, and rules that offer some level of protection. These people don’t need no stinking protection.

I’ve honestly never seen anything like that.

And I’ve been here for quite a while now.

I’d recommend watching a replay of that game, even if ( like me ) you don’t know much about it.

And the final is on Thursday.

It should be just a little less dramatic than Okinawa.