Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Short Skirts, Short Songs, Short Buses

 


Looking back, I shoulda' done it all backwards. In high heels. 

If I've learned anything in a long life, and that one is open to debate, it is that nothing's worth doing that doesn't lead to joy. Yours or someone else's.

Oh, I know- I didn't write in waltz time enough.






Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Feeble Attempts and Meager Returns

 



Me? I've no use for the big time. It's a good thing, I suppose, because the big time has never had any use for me. That mockingbird's not thinking about a record deal. Maybe saving the world was too big a task for a born-slacker. Besides, nobody's sure the world needs saving.

Sometimes I think that maybe there's enough love in the world. We just have a distribution problem.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.



 

Saturday, November 21, 2020

What If You Catch It?

 



Well, sir, I've chased money and I've chased fame. I've run after women and power and peace of mind. I've half-heartedly sought wisdom and single-mindedly pursued passion. I suppose I'm always looking for attention, even though I seldom leave the house. Socially awkward, you know.

Maybe I've caught just enough of everything I've wanted, to know that there's nothing I need.

My prizes are the memories of the love I've known along the way. In my naivete, I have thought that maybe I could manipulate who I am, what other folks thought of me. Turns out that I'm the same person who was scared to death and, thrilled as well, to start that first day of school. 

Every stray is just looking for love. Me, too.





Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Finding The Source

 




Maybe I should have kept a few secrets. You know, created a mystique. A little late to worry about it now, I suppose. Most folks grow up. They get tricked into believing that they have no choice. Oh, I've bought suits and I've bought ties. Nobody ever accused me of growing up.

If you ever lose a fascination with lightning bugs or ever lose your taste for ice cream, it's time to re-evaluate. Everything.

You learn math and you study science but you come with love right from the factory. Oh sure, chemistry complicates it at some point. You may never break your nose like I did, or your arm, like I did, but you're surely gonna have your heart broken at some point and that's a price you pay.

In fact, loss, in one form or another, finances all love. The glory of it all overwhelms me.









Tuesday, October 27, 2020

Please Hold For Aunt Jo

 



The German Zeppelin bombing of England began in 1915. Jess Willard knocked Jack Johnson out in the 26th round of a championship brawl in Havana, thrilling white folks around the globe. Babe Ruth hit his first home run. Henry Ford rolled his 1 millionth car off the assembly line in Detroit and my Aunt Jo was born.

One day last week I finally got to talk to her on the phone. First time since the pandemic began. Of course this isn't her first. 

She had lunch with Eleanor Roosevelt in the white house and she sat up with me all night in the emergency room on New Year's eve, 1966, in Birmingham. Same hospital I was born in. Pretty sure she knew I hadn't "walked into a door."

She says "I love you," a lot. Always did.








Thursday, October 15, 2020

I Don't Mean To Intrude

 



Here we are. After nearly ten years and over twenty five hundred blogs, I feel like I have burdened you with this babble. Maybe I should have thought of that nine and a half years and twenty four hundred blogs back.

Of course I feel the same way about my music. I haven't been doing much writing because I feel like I have forced it on a defenseless public for fifty six years. Now, in fairness, it has been a pretty small public.

Surely self-promotion is the lowest form of communication. I've told you before of the nice folks who have decided to "manage" my career. To a person, they have all concluded, with time, that I can't be managed. I'm pretty sure that none of them meant it as a compliment.

Now, I don't worry about how I will pass time. I figure that time passes pretty well on its own. I may keep pasting my head on other bodies because I have found that an inexpensive, safe way to travel. I just didn't want you to think that I had forgotten about you. I love you.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.





Sunday, September 27, 2020

Can't Find My Rose-Colored Glasses

 



"Every ending is a beginning."

 Every time some hack types that, it's a new beginning. We're all just holding mirrors up to mirrors, aren't we? I seem to have run out of beginnings. Endings, too, for the most part. I was just sitting around waiting for an end to the pandemic or my life, whichever came first, until I realized I'm younger than both of those old white guys running for president. Well, one white and one more an apricot/tangerine, to be precise.

Somehow I seem to have avoided almost everything that scared me growing up. By growing up, I mean everything that happened to me up until yesterday. Yesterday at about 2:00 pm, again, to be precise.

Every heartbreak in my diary is loss.