Random Music Thoughts


Long but worthwhile read. I was struck by White's small ego. And this also confirmed what I long suspected, that Roger Waters and Steve Jobs were very similar in personality.

That's a great article. It was nice to read about his stint with Peter Green and his own solo stuff, as well.
 
Oxford American Magazine's annual "Southern Music" CD series has come to an end after 21 genre-bending, mind expanding volumes. :(

This year all we get is "curated playlists" on Spotify. :mad:

OA111_MusicIssue_Cover_Final_Promo_store_f1359d2c-6ac6-472b-ac1b-244debbcd8de_900x.jpg
 
Well, I suppose the shaft is one thing, but let's hope the fleas took his advice to never mind the bollocks.
I might have told this story on the old MG, but my wife and I rented a place in an old apartment complex. The previous owner was supposed to be gone on day X, but wasn't, and we were there with our belongings. The apartment managers put us up in another room in the complex for one night and then move all of our stuff to the new apartment the next day.
The previous owner was a bow hunter. When we looked at the apartment, he had a few dead pheasants on the bay window sill and his compound bows leaned up against it.
About two or three days after we moved in, I was scratching like a motherfucker in bed at night. My wife was fine and said I was imagining things. About 3 in the morning I reached up, turned on the lights, and whipped the bed covers off of us. We could see fleas jumping and bouncing off the bed. Boing! Boing! Boing! They went after me because I had hair on my legs. My wife was spared. The fleas came from the dead animals he had brought into the apartment.
We called the rental agent the next morning, explained what had happened, and they came right over. They saw the scabs all over my body and also some fleas on the bed. They moved us back out, sent EVERYTHING we had brought to be dry cleaned, steam cleaned the apartment's wall-to-wall carpeting and then moved us back in two days later.
Flea bites might sound like a bit of a joke, but the are a pain in the butt. It took a few weeks for all the bites to go away.
My Dog Has Fleas. Yeah, so did I .
 
I might have told this story on the old MG, but my wife and I rented a place in an old apartment complex. The previous owner was supposed to be gone on day X, but wasn't, and we were there with our belongings. The apartment managers put us up in another room in the complex for one night and then move all of our stuff to the new apartment the next day.
The previous owner was a bow hunter. When we looked at the apartment, he had a few dead pheasants on the bay window sill and his compound bows leaned up against it.
About two or three days after we moved in, I was scratching like a motherfucker in bed at night. My wife was fine and said I was imagining things. About 3 in the morning I reached up, turned on the lights, and whipped the bed covers off of us. We could see fleas jumping and bouncing off the bed. Boing! Boing! Boing! They went after me because I had hair on my legs. My wife was spared. The fleas came from the dead animals he had brought into the apartment.
We called the rental agent the next morning, explained what had happened, and they came right over. They saw the scabs all over my body and also some fleas on the bed. They moved us back out, sent EVERYTHING we had brought to be dry cleaned, steam cleaned the apartment's wall-to-wall carpeting and then moved us back in two days later.
Flea bites might sound like a bit of a joke, but the are a pain in the butt. It took a few weeks for all the bites to go away.
My Dog Has Fleas. Yeah, so did I .

I might have told this story on the old MG, but after college, I lived in an old farmhouse in Virginia surrounded on three sides by cow pastures. It was in an unincorporated area designated as Pender, and we used to refer to our rented homestead as the Pender Ponderosa.

There were fleas during the Spring, Summer, and Fall. We would flea-bomb them regularly, but they won every pitched battle we had.

At bedtime, I would turn off the light and go to bed. Within seconds, my legs (also hairy) would be covered with about two dozen fleas. I would turn the light back on, and extract us many as possible, and pinch their tiny bodies in half. This was the only way to kill them. They seemed to survive most attempts to smash or swat them. I would continue this operation five or six times until their numbers decreased. Then, I could try to sleep.

I don't recommend this as a long-term way of life. In fact, I bailed on it.
 
I might have told this story on the old MG, but after college, I lived in an old farmhouse in Virginia surrounded on three sides by cow pastures. It was in an unincorporated area designated as Pender, and we used to refer to our rented homestead as the Pender Ponderosa.

There were fleas during the Spring, Summer, and Fall. We would flea-bomb them regularly, but they won every pitched battle we had.

At bedtime, I would turn off the light and go to bed. Within seconds, my legs (also hairy) would be covered with about two dozen fleas. I would turn the light back on, and extract us many as possible, and pinch their tiny bodies in half. This was the only way to kill them. They seemed to survive most attempts to smash or swat them. I would continue this operation five or six times until their numbers decreased. Then, I could try to sleep.

I don't recommend this as a long-term way of life. In fact, I bailed on it.

What a shitty situation!
 
John Lennon murdered 40 years ago today. I remember it like it was yesterday. Still hurts.

 
Back
Top