Snapshot From the Road Trip

No, not an actual picture but just a little flash of life on the road.

We are filing onto the bus to make the trip from L.A. to Palm Springs. I am minding my own business, taking a biography of Alexander the Great which was written in the 1870's by an American autodidact. I oversee the loading of my harps onto the bus and follow them in and choose a seat. I figure to settle in, read, maybe nap for the couple hours of riding until we reach the resort and concert hall where we will play two sold out shows to crowds of 1,200. So far, the tour has been great fun. Here in L.A. I was joined by the beautiful April and we have been having a great time together. Every time he sees April walking from place to the place the other guitar player starts to sing the Sir Douglas Quintet's "She's About a Mover" under his breath. April notices this and is her usual gorgeous, merciless self about it, sometimes pausing to do a little hitch thing with her hip just to hear the sharp hiss of him sucking wind.

I am settling into the seat, give a glance to April to see if she wants for anything when StarLady plops right down next to me and without any preliminaries says "Is everything OK with you?" I say "Of course. Why do you ask?" StarLady says "You haven't said a word to anybody for at least three days. I was wondering if somebody had made you angry or something." April is by now laughing quietly and tells StarLady "It took me a couple of years to get used to that with him. He's an Apache to the bone about that. He doesn't talk much, that's all. If he was pissed off, trust me, EVERYBODY would be knowing."

StarLady smiles her enigmatic and etherial smile which just doesn't quite reach her legendary blue eyes and says "Alright. I was just wondering." I figure it's time for me to say something and take her hand in mine, give it a quick gentleman's kiss and say "I am having a wonderful time playing for you. It's great to get a job where I am able to say that I'm making real music and not just money. Thank you for calling me."

Her smile broadens but still stops short of her eyes telling you that they believe. We do the first show in the early evening. Palm Springs shuts down early on a good night so we have to have at least one early show for the geezer set. After the show I am sitting backstage with April and icing my wrists down with bags held in place by ace bandages. StarLady is passing by with her daughter, an actress, and a couple of thoroughly spoiled grandchildren in tow. Our eyes meet. I smile and say "You were superb tonight BossLady darlin'."

She blows me a quick kiss and smiles from the inside all the way out.

3B's

Friday Random Ten

Getting back into the swing of what a friday is supposed to mean around El Rancho Harpo. . .

It means to listen to music while paying bills.

I Believe in You - - - Neil Young
Dig A Pony - - - The Beatles
Pachinko - - - The Pogues
Living With the Dreaming Body - - - Poi Dog Pondering
Favorite Mistake - - - Sheryl Crow (live bootleg featuring Eric Clapton)
One Green Hill - - - Oysterband
Picture Book - - - The Kinks
If I Needed Someone - - - Beatles
Pasties and a G-String - - - Tom Waits (live bootleg)
Our Love is Here to Stay - - - Peggy Lee with the George Shearing quintet

Bonus

Everytime We Say Goodbye - - - Julie London

Attack of the Phallus Things

Check out Litbrit (this is NOT a post about republicans)

and also over at Shakesville (back up an running! yay 'Liss!)

There has been a rash of, shall we say, intensly phallic architecture lately. Although I am of the mind that even the most perverse christopathic builders cannot hold a candle to the wonders of nature.

In this spirit I offer a couple of wonders from my own beloved Arizona.



From Monument Valley we have the appropriately named Organ Rock. Which is visible from the highway to Lake Powell.

But, from my very own, nearby Superstition Mountains we have:




Weaver's Needle (taken from a point on the Peralta Trail called "low saddle pass")

Which, along with being a prime navigational point for hikers and pilots is, by traditional lore, the main landmark to finding the "Lost Dutchman" gold mine.

Hard to beat phallic symbolism and the promise of gold for the taking when it comes to republican dreams.

All I got to say is Keep 'Em Coming Larry Flynt!

crossposted at 3B's

Whew. My Idea of a Perfect Morning.

I got in late last night, after a series of very late nights. I had slid back into the vampire hours of a performer, doing things like burning sage and singing up the sun before hauling the blackout curtains of the hotel room over and collapsing. I dragged into Sky Harbor at about 11:30, hopped a shuttle home and putzed around until about 2 a.m. or so.

This morning at dawn Chico, the rescue burro began his calls for room service. I stumbled out of bed, into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee and went out to the barn. The chorus of nickers and neighs was joyous and musical. I got all the hay tossed and the goodies measured out and forked out the nightsoil.

By the time all of that was done, it was time for a cup of coffee. Then the dogs are fed. Then more coffee.

In about six more minutes or so, (9:30 a.m.) I think I'll take me a nap.

I love being home.