Look what I found yesterday...
I'm almost certain I got this as a present for my 7th birthday. That was the only real birthday party I had as a little kid. It's still got a lot of the pieces too.
Stuuuupid cops.
One of the clearest memories I have from early childhood is seeing a commercial for the premiere of Dukes of Hazzard. There's a couple of reasons it sticks out...one, I was at a friends house. He had a toy spaceship from Battle Star Galactica. It was an early one that shot plastic missiles. Recently a kid had choked to death on one of these missiles and the toy had been taken out of production. This was the horrific discussion, stamped forever into my six year old brain, that our parents were having when the commercial came on.
The commercial momentarily wiped that out...and we come to the other reason why this moment sticks out...and replaced it with sever disappointment. I had heard there was going to be a show called Dukes of Hazzard and I had convinced myself that it was going to be a show with Knights and archers like Robin Hood. Crushed.
It didn't take long to get over it though and of course, I loved the show.
How could you not?
I Am Somebody!
I found this in the same box...Ha.
It had to be from a few years later...but, it's definitely early 80's. This is the flippin elementary education I received.
Understand, I don't have a problem with Jesse. He's a con artist...and you can't hate the player. If individuals and corporations allow themselves to get got...that's on them. In full disclosure, I should point out that I have shaken the man's hand. It was in Indianapolis. It was in a hospital where Maze's mother worked and Jesse was going through the halls shaking hands.*
"Mahh Frrrriendah"...that's what he said as he reached out to grab my hand. Sweetest of all...I was wearin' an Elvis T-Shirt that had a Confederate Battle Flag as a background. I bought the shirt at a leftwing hangout...a punk rock record shop...obviously a different time.
Blueeeeeeee.....Orrrrrrrrrrrrange...Blueeeeee.....Orrrrrrrrrange!
Then there was this...my true obsession then as now...
If you look closely you can see a Bulldog being swept up in a Blue and Orange tornado. It's hard to explain just how much I hated the Georgia Bulldogs at this time in my life...almost as much as the Seminoles but, the Gators were beating FSU like a drum at this time. Georgia made clowns of 'em every year. Obviously that was long time ago...b****es.
The only actual art teacher I ever had was at Sable Palm Elementary. I'm not positive but I think her name was Ms. Robertson. She had red curly hair and glasses. She was always in a checked shirt and faded jeans...and nike tennis shoes. She was cool and even at that age I remember thinking she was young..and she was compared to the other teachers I had. She had a turn table in the class...always the Lovin' Spoonful.
I actually learned things in that class...at least I remember things I was told in the class. For instance, did you know that the reason why many portraits from early American history are so goofy lookin is because they were done by house painters trying to stay busy in the winter? I don't know if it's true or not...but, I remember it. She was great and like I said...the only real art teacher I ever had.
Anyway...
*This was the same week that Mike Tyson was charged with raping a lady in Indianapolis...there was a Black Expo or something going on there that week.
I'll fix the pictures later. If anybody knows why the new blogger won't recognize paragraphs that would be helpful too.
This place was spared in 1912 when my Great Grandparents, Fredrick and Martha (nee Hearnshaw) Bartlam, boarded a ship for America. In a round about...very very round...way we recently got hold of some genealogy information. The Bartlams have evidently been in and around Birmingham for a long time...Deritend (lots of youngins born here), Inkley...Hinkley. My great grand parents hung around long enough to get married at the Parish Church in Balshall Heath. After coming over here, Fredrick sorta went back when he signed up in Canada to fight in the First World War. There's some fighters in there...but, not too many of us have fought for the U.S. There's a John Bartlam that came to South Carolina, from the same area in Birmingham, during the late 18th century. He was a Loyalist killed by rebels during battle in the American War of Independence. My Daddy's maternal family (Garbetts) seems to have been in Georgia for almost as long as the Bartlams have been in Birmingham...around Quitman. My Daddy was born in a house there on family property. It's weird to be reading along and see my Grandmother's place of death as Jackson, Mississippi...even stranger to read that she had a brother who died in Louisiana. Turns out my Great Great Grandmother was either from Louisiana or Mississippi. Best of all we've been able to pin down family units in the War Between the States. Erasmus D. Garbett, Sergeant F company, 6th Florida Infantry. Samuel Garbett was there with him. Lots of cavalry Troopers in Florida too...2nd Cav. Lots of names...Catledge, Collins, Wesley, Smith, Green, Bailey... Anyway...if y'all can tell me about Kings Norton and Deritend...I'll tell you all about Cherry Lake and Quitman, Gerogia.
Beale St. is not Church St. It's not even Clarkesdale...and tourists will sometimes wondered down into Mississippi under the mistaken impression that the Jukes along 61 Highway are just a more "authentic" extension of Beale.
It's not that people aren't hosptitable or that you can't "tour" The Delta. Some of them little towns are run by drug money from Memphis and, no matter how much you really love the Blues, you don't need to be monkyin' around down there...and just 'cause there's a crowd outside a Grocery on Sunday night it don't mean everybody's welcome.
Still...Beale St. isn't exactly Disney World and it's a lot of fun.
Well it's fun until you're told you ain't allowed in the bars.
That's the Boy trying to convince his Moma that he is big enough to go in.
He was mesmerized by the live music...which passed from Rockabilly to Noise/Jazz/Regga to Chitlin Circuit and Soul Blues...
"Daddy let's go in...we have to go in...I have to go in there."
___________________________________________________
12 hours later we had crossed the river twice...the land of lincoln...a long way from Memphis, Tennessee.
Just logging on to leave some convenient images of Spring...
...before getting in the car and heading north to visit the in-laws. About a billion parts of pollen per square inch around here right now. If it doesn't rain for a few days everything appears through a greenish yellow haze. It's a strange sight.
This is my dogwood y'all. Hopefully she'll still be in bloom by the time we get back next week. It's about the only time of year I actually notice the back yard.
The neighbors yard will have exploded by the time we get back.
Just one long mound of azaleas...hot pink and white.
For the next couple of days we'll be travelling back in time to barren winter and naked trees. It's been warmer than usual up there this year but, I'm certain, as soon as we cross the Mississippi River into ciaro, illinois...the clouds will roll in and the temperature will drop 20 degrees.
Y'all say a prayer for me too...at least the few of you who aren't heathens. We all know what happened the last time I drove through illinios. &&^%&%^&%^&% Yankee Cops!!!
We've got one refreshing pause before carrying on up there...tonight we'll be on Beale St. in Memphis. Baby!
I'm leavin' Baton Rouge. I've been here for a couple of days doin' what I do...losing money on penny slots, eating pounds of sausage, talkin' tons of trash.
One of things I love about the kinda travelling I do...which usually involves crossing the tracks at some point and moving off the marketing grid...is the signs. There aren't too many things that I find more aesthetically pleasing than signs and labels.
Full bookshelves maybe..
Certainly...live oaks and azaleas...
Signs are hard to beat though...expressive and coded but deliberate...I love 'em.
An old favorite...
It's time to get on now...the sign we're lookin' for this afternoon is Jackson City Limits.
Since we've recently busted the bounds of polite conversation with a Sonic Boom might as well enjoy the ride...try and steer what is almost certainly a rudderless craft.
Actually I'm not offering you a sermon at all. I found something yesterday while doing my usual Friday reading at "work." Sometimes I'll bounce from one band to another on Wikepedia, other days I'll read the old out of copy-right Imperial memoirs on google books...and others I'll root around the Southern Partizan archives.
Yesterday's choice was made for me after Ronnie's comment about Puritanism. I mentioned to him Clyde Wilson's "The Yankee Problem in America"...having thought of it, I wanted to read it again and....
Y'all can find that essay here...
http://www.lewrockwell.com/wilson/wilson12.html
Keep in mind there is a heavy irony at work in this piece. For some, the title would make that obvious...for others probably not. He is writing about the Yankee the same way Southerners and The South are usally written about. So, if you're not a Southroner and you find yourself put off by the opening paragraph...that's kinda the point.
Suzanne Mary-Grant, a British historian, who along with Pete J. Parish edited the collection Legacy of Disunion, covers this very issue in her contribution to the book "The Charter of its Birth Right: The Civil War and American Nationalism". She quotes an editorial from a Northern paper that explained "There is one, and only one, sure policy for the immediate future...The North must become the absolute dictator of the Republic until the spirit of the North shall become the spirit of the whole country." There's also a letter from Henry Adams to his brother, expressing his conviction that it was up to him and "his generation" to bring the country "back to it's true course." That course being, of course, the one guided by the "New England element."
(one of the most Southern moments ever put to film...Hader's from borderline Oklahoma...McBride is straight outta Statesboro Georgia)
Anyway...the highlight yesterday was the The Real Old Time Religion by the late A. J. Conyers.
The essay looks at Puritanism, Fundamentalism, and Pantheism in US religious history and how The South has responded to these ideas.
It was a moment that not only reminded me of the reality of ideas but, also, of how much genuine pleasure they can bring. A moment where things you know to be true, ineffable things that you feel to be true, and things you hadn't pondered are brought together to explain a phenomenon in a way that immediately seems obvious. For instance, it gave me a better understanding of why we have found such a comfortable home in the Anglican Church, very comfortable, and not in the Baptist church where I was raised.
The section on nominalism and the tendencies of literal minded people gave me a real chuckle. This is something that comes up a lot around here because my in-laws, and some very good friends, are from the Mid-West where there is a tendency there toward literal mindedness.
I'm reminded of my Father-in-law, who is an outstanding man and one that I love, pulling me aside one day and letting me know that whenever I said I was "going out to check the weather" that he knew I was really going out to smoke. Busted. :)
I can imagine Jesus trying to tell someone to get the beam out of his own eye in Columbus Ohio...
"Now look here Jesus. In order for a board to be a beam it must A x B in width and C in length...the circumference of my head is only....hahahha.
(Not surprisingly these people are very good at inventing and building things...my Father-in-Law is probably a world-class stone mason)
I was told point blank in Connecticut that Southerners are two faced...they never say what they really mean.
You don't have to be engaged with our disputes to enjoy it though. You certainly don't have to be a Christian or religious to get something out of it (though I do hope and look forward to hearing from some of our Christians on this one). There's plenty for anybody who's curious about religion in these United States or just a general interest in ideas and why they appeal. I think you can probably find yourself in one of these categories...and certainly some of our recent troubles :) can be put into a different perspective. And, I think, some of the difficulty that can be had in trying to communicate with one another what we actually mean.
Besides all that Mary Flannery O'Connor makes an appearance...
What more could you want?
Warning: If you follow these links and you get a call from the SPLC, the FBI, Scotland Yard, the UN or your local Commissar wanting know why you're visiting such reprehensible, hate filled sites just tell them you're monitoring an enemy of civilization in preparation for making a citizens arrest.
I don't think I've ever gone more than a week without posting but, it's been since last Monday that put anything up.
Of course, it's been plenty busy around here and I trust that everybody's been well entertained.
Let's get caught up.
Mostly I've been dealing with work. The semi-annual non-job related work issues.
I spend Monday morning and all of Friday in an office but, I don't work in an office. I work here...
and here...
and on good days here...
The people I work for do work in offices...and they go through occasional bouts of paranoia about what we, the outbound salesmen, are up to...out there spending all their money, carousing in places like...what Gloster??? Mound Bayou???
Stop hatin' man. There's nothin' keepin y'all in office.
It's especially irritating when you've been sent to a place by one person and then grilled as to why you were there by another. When these moments come, we take it...swap admonishments (this one tips too much, this one over-works the same area, the other spends too much on lodging) and then go back to handling our business.
Which mainly consists of driving between places like Jena and Jonesville, Louisiana...listening to the radio.
Really though, I love my job. I try to do a good job and I think I manage it but, seriously...Martha's hotter than a two dollar pistol and there's The Boy, imBlakei...
I'm not out here in St. Fancisville 'cause I'd rather not be at the house.
Speaking of being at the house...I took a minute this weekend to watch a movie..To Kill a King.
Two things...one, Tim Roth is the boss. Two, while I'm somewhat familiar with this period in British History...it's not in my wheelhouse but, I'll say this, every time I've ever seen any representation of Cromwell I've wanted to choke him...choke 'im right out.
I think it's the Puritan stuff...that's who the Yankees are. The English ones anyway. That's where they come from. Maybe that's it. That and I just find the presumptuousness of revolutions repulsive by nature...executing Kings! Who in the...anyway, that's probably the result of our history in The South. Which has been forced through, and is constantly being threatened with*, radical change for the last 150 years.
Speaking of...I stopped in Rosemont yesterday. The family home of Jeff Davis...a simple elegant homestead. Nothing pretentious or ostentatious. A home.
That's a post for another day...right now I'm just trying to get back to my own home.
I think that gets us back on track.
*There have been some calls for a third Reconstruction...an economic reconstruction. We're attracting industry by cheating. We don't have any unions and that isn't fair. The gov. recently used labor laws to stop Boeing moving a plant from Seattle to South Carolina...and we won't talk about Airbus.
"I know right w'ere they was. Back when we was teenagers J., my husband," here she clasped her hands together, lowered her head and opened her eyes to emphasize the clarification, then she cocked her head back up, splayed her fingers back out and continued... "and them used to go head lightin' down there."
Mrs. C runs a country store and diner in the Pine Belt...and tells stories. This particular story had been set off by some very dark news but, we've had enough of that for a minute or two.
Mrs. C's in her early 50's probably and has an exquisite Southern accent...Mississippi accent. It's not deep but it's round and has developed a fine vibrating patina that's priceless. She's not a big woman but she's got a wide frame that gives her an erect appearance. When she speaks, she cocks her head back slightly. Her eyes are half closed above high flatish cheek bones...split by a slight, smooth flowing, Roman nose.
Even in a pink t-shirt and jeans it's hard to deny the regal air of it...but the warmth of her voice and regular bursts of laughter keep the stuffiness cleared out. When she lowers her head...her eyes come on like high beams.
"I tried to tell 'im they'us gone get in trouble down there but, he couldn't resist it. You know they used to be hundreds of deer down there at night."
At this point she must have sensed that there were a few people who hadn't cottoned on to what they were doin (which seems impossible to me considering the crowd but*...I think she was right) and so she explained...
"B. drove while J. would hang out the passenger window and shoot to the left. The Kendall boy would ride in the back, leanin on the roof and cover the right. They just couldn't stay away from it."
"Anyway, one night me and J. was supposed to go on a date. I waited and waited but, he never showed,"...she cleared the air with a wave of her fingers, lowered her head and lit up..."donch you know I got my little panties in a wad over that."
"Weeeell...they shot 'em a deer that evenin'. Got him loaded up and jess before they's about to get on the highway...Game Warden cut on his lights. They made some sorry attempt to explain but he stopped 'em cold and told 'em he knew exactly which one of 'em shot 'im, where they shot 'im, and how they shot 'im."
"Kendall, he come from money, he thought he'd jess write a check and that'd be the end of but, no...they didn't like them boys. They confiscated the truck...it was B's Daddy's truck...the guns and fined them boys Fifuh-Teeeen Hundred dollas a piece...Fifuh-Teen Hundred dolla's."
Well satisfied that she had once again gotten to tell her old man "I told you so"...she sucked on her teeth and gave a little rumble of a laugh. She told me to come on back to the kitchen. I nestled in, I've seen bigger kitchens on fishing boats, next to her daughter and started cookin'. The daughter was haggard but cheerful enough...she's probably a few years older than me.
"Now don't you pay all the attention to her...jess 'cause she's young."
Laugh's probably still bouncing off the yellowed walls in the place.
I love my job.
*There may or may not have been a time when my Daddy may or may not have hunted coons in the woods, at night, with somebody who may or may not have been carrying a flashlight.
Bama needs to score every chance they get...this isn't gonna last.
McCarron's 9 of 15 for 92 yards but, they've only got 3 points and he missed one of their best shots...just one flippin play might do them in.
Hanks got it. They need a touchdown here if they're gonna make a mark. Hanks got blasted again but, he hung on.
Richardson makes his first bit of noise. First down.
There's a grown man.
Now there's a grown man on the bench? Lacey's great but why is Richardson on the bench.
STONED.
Shelly again...got it.
Here's a tidbit for a commercial break...I stood behind the Alabama bench at the Mississippi State game. Alabama's cheerleaders are the tiniest properly proportioned (meaning not little people) human beings I've ever seen...a couple of them have to be right at 4' tall.
Alabam 6 - LSU 0
LSU's still only one play away.
Beckham was covered but an outside throw would have been better than that crap.
Still lost. I wonder what's going through Lee's mind.
Look out now.
That Tight-End Williams...is a GIGANTIC human being.
Shelly gets another. That's Half.
Alabama 9 - LSU 0.
It's weird to see a Les Miles team so tight like that but, they are on the verge of being named the greatest team to ever play...they better use the break to get Stella on the phone.
____________________________________________________ HALFTIME
While we've got a break...here's a glimpse into the minds of SEC football fans.
The clip you're watching is of a high school senior announcing where he is going to play college football. The woman sitting next to him is his MOTHER ...
His mother.
As a side not...for those of you not from around here...she has a quintessential south Louisiana accent.
What's up with this clown?
Shank...just a little left my ***/ Shank...Come on number 12...Short.
More hooks than a tackle box. He did win a car.
Enough of this nonsense.
_____________________________________
Heartbreak for Maze...balling on sideline because he can't get back in game.
Third Quarter.
Bama's got the ball...again.
Hanks again...Hanks with a block...Bell down the sideline. Bama back in red zone.
Alabama 12 - LSU 0. Another field goal.
Only 10 more field goals and maybe they can put it away.
LSU's taking the kick off. Here we go.
Beckham was wide flippin open.
Beckham got that one.
Upshaw's maybe the best in the country Kirk? Please...who's better?
I didn't see a fair catch signal. WT...?
Is wagging an alligator arm out..barely...really a fair catch signal??
McCarron to Norwood (hey Mississippi)...for 25. Wow.
3rd and long...I feel the interception coming.
Watch out now...here comes number 7.
Kirkpatrick blew that one.
Jefferson is a mess. They may have to call Lee off the bench. Would that be the height of drama or what...all his long series of woes have been because of Alabama. In a last ditch effort LSU brings him in...to save the day facing his old nemisis.
Mosely's down...but, Bama's starting on LSU's 30.
It's funny watching future NFL players bouncing off of Richardson.
If Shelley hits this one it gets interesting...bringing ...NEVERMIND. Wide Right.
Here comes Jefferson again...the coonasses are getting restless. Watch for flying Wild Turkey.
SMOTHERED like a hashbrown.
Did you see that shiggity?
Good ***...LACEY!
Ohhhhh Ohhh Oh....Reed saved 'em on that one.
This may be it...they gotta stop 'em.
Shelley again.
Now there's trouble...
Alabama 15 - LSU 0. Now we'er lookin' at a two point conversion somewhere along the line for LSU.
Well it's a completion...4th Quarter.
Alabama 15 - LSU 0. Jordan Jefferson still quarterbacking for LSU.
LSU's won two national championships in that building. Surely Miles knows they sell liquor there.
1st down LSU.
Why would anybody...the freakin' Saints even...try to get the edge on this defense.
Why would you try to run that ball right at Gentry???
Defense is gonna have to score...this is the downside of being RocknRoll...you need something to get you going. LSU doesn't even look like they're at a football game right now.
There's a spark...busted McCarron's ***. Now the punt.
Kirkpatrick gets a little pay back.
First down...Hilliard.
Look out now.
Is Jefferson a moron?
I think the answer is yes.
They might as well go for it.
Hightower!!!
Beerburger's best line might be the one line...Mauling. This is the best defense that's ever played the game. As bad as we've been clowning on Jefferson...he's not really had a lot of options. Landry was wide open...Gentry gets a piece of his arm. This is ridiculous.
I guess you just don't mess with Alabama when a National Championship is on the line. By any standard (14 or 9) if they win tonight nobody will have more...except for maybe my Elis.
There's the bow...Trent Richardson ******es! Call it Allan.
LSU fans pouring out...they do not hang around for this. I just can't believe how dead LSU has looked. You can't blame the defense...after a while you just get beat down but, they've seemed wound up all night.
Alabama's still playing like it's the first quarter. They're gonna score again...they don't want any doubt...in anybody's mind.
There's the beerburger we all know..."Is this the coach that can make Alabama fans forget about The Bear?" What an idiot.
Now he's taking it on himself to dedicate the game to the "folks in Tuscaloosa." Have another beer brent...you windbag.
My day started in a parking lot...talkin' with a lady that had an adopted brother.
"You know we had to move him over to St **** when he was in the 3rd grade. Hmm Huh. He had him a little girlfriend over there at ***** Elementary...was his damn sister. His biological sister.
...We had to snatch him up outta there. I mean...they'us only in the 3rd grade but, we had to put a stop to that."
The fella still doesn't know he's adopted...but, outside of him, it seems to be the worst kept secret in ***** county.
Then I saw this...
Can somebody tell me why...why would you hollow the tobacco out of perfectly good Swisher Sweet Cigar? I mean what are you gonna do with a hollowed out cigar?
What I am not curious about is what's been going on here...
Only one thing that can save a morning like that....a dinner like this.
However good you think they look...however good you think they were...you have no idea. Trust me.
The rest of the day was mostly uneventful...'cept for meeting Mrs. Inez but, that'll have to wait.
A coworker made 'em. He got his Grandma's recipes when she passed. There's some pecan fudge in there and something that taste like a homemade Rollo...but it's the Cheese Straws.
These are sharp ones with heat you can taste. The coffee's bitter and cuts the tang. Like a piece of candy made with cheese grits and heavy cream. I've had bites of filet that weren't this satisfying.
A frigid Cokecola would be even better...but what can't be improved on is the music.
The fella that wrote the bio can be forgiven for referring to R.L. Burnside as an American musician...the writer doesn't seem to be from the U.S...when he is quite obviously a Southern musician. Show me connecticut's or minnesota's answer to Burnside and I'll eat my words like a cheese straw.
What can't be forgiven is the insistence that he is a Delta Bluesman...or has any special connection to The Delta whatsoever. He didn't...full stop. He was from the Hill Country and he played Hill Country Blues.
Aside from the usual brilliance (check that blossoming ring toward the end...the trance he's inducing is only a set up, preparing your mind for a look behind the curtains, for a whiff of transcendence)...this is a bit of a put on too. Before Robert Palmer and Fat Possum...the few folks that came down to record RL Burnside and some of the others wanted the acoustic guitar. Matthew Johnson was very clear when they got Fat Possum together about presenting these players as they were on Sunday nights in Mississippi...plugged in and lewd.
"The Blues ain't nothin' but dance music," R. L. Burnside.
The ethnologists often have a very specific, preconceived idea about the Blues and the people that play it...a very Delta idea (*&^% Delta). This is the same bunch that had a litter of kittens when Mississippi Fred McDowell picked up and electric guitar and...THE VAPORS!!!...brought on a white bass player. The American Studies Department at Yale had to shut down for a week.
Look at the pictures and the difference between the staged photos and how he presented himself on stage. It's the same issue I have with the concept of "folk art"...the suggestion that these people don't have a sophisticated aesthetic understanding of what they are doing...that it really boils down to dumb expression brought on by material pressures.
And cheese straws are just a poor man's attempt at cheezits.
After the closing of Tastee Donuts in Fondern, and before the need for wi-fi, I lived there. Waffle House is a Southern Institution...you wouldn't pass it up if you were in these parts.
A couple of weeks ago, I stopped at a gas station in Poplarville to get a cup of coffee. As I leaned on the hood smoking a cigarette two cars pulled up and out poured 10 kids from Birmingham England. They were on their way from New Orleans to Memphis. Best I could tell they had been having the time of their life.
Two things they were most excited about at the moment...one, the Mug Shot papers. You'll find 'em in every gas station. It's just a little paper magazine that reprints the county mug shoots, booking photos, for that month.
"Ohhhh...somebody be'd going to jail over this back home."
And the food..."Waffle House...yeah Waffle House," it kinda echoed around the nodding group.
It wasn't uncommon for Brits to show up at High St. on their way to New Orleans. It was right off the interstate.
"How much farther?"
"Three hours maybe"
Slumped shoulders and a look of total defeat.
The food is scrumptious...when they're clean enough to eat in. Usually the first six months they're fine...then the retired hookers, drug dealers, etc. are moved in and it's a steady decent. Most of the clientele don't care...truckers, cops, working girls and students.
The place is open 24 hours...that's all you really need to know.
High St. was where I got through school and met half the people in my life...and this was my view.
I was sitting in that very spot the night that David Allan Coe asked if he and a very young, very Asian, very stoned woman could have the booth.
It's also the place where I met Allan...our Allan. I was there preparing to start at Millsaps. He was already a superstar there....preparing for a senior year that would end with three Oral and Written comprehensive exams. He left the place with a degree in History, Philosophy and Religious Studies. He would go on to receive a PhD in Philosophy and is now warping young minds in Mobile Alabama. He is most famous for holding the position of non-contributing Philosopher here at Flimsy Cups.
I also met Matt M. there...and for the next four years we spent hours there almost every day. Talking (mostly music and his lady troubles), smoking and drinking as much coffee as they could make. About $1.09 for a bottomless cup back then.
Matt's at Princeton now studying music.
There was Brannon...a kind of brooding figure that delivered papers in the morning and pizzas at night during his last year of high school. He had calculated every dime it would take to pay rent and buy groceries for four years of college. He'd have a hasbrown...but, no smother or cover. That 75 cents might be the difference between having a tube of toothpaste in March or brushing with baking soda.
He was also brilliant and, last I heard, a PhD candidate at Harvard...probably done by now.
The help were ambiguous about our presence. They'd clown with us sometimes...ask for rides home, try to sell us dope...growl about having to make another pot of coffee.
They had their own problems...bail bondsmen, the poleese, ex girlfriends.
What really makes a Waffle House besides never closing and the ash trays...is the sound. Stainless steel constantly banging and scraping on cast iron, the ring of plates spinning on linoleum, shouted orders, metal spoons pinging against ceramic coffee cups.
For someone who can't concentrate when it's quiet it was the best possible place to study...and I worked my way through school in that place. That and I doodled.
Sometimes both.
I have stacks of these little tablets...occasionally there are notes but, mostly just doodles and misc. thoughts.
I think there are a couple of reasons for this...one, people like to read. Two, a lot of people live in places where they're about to be shut in for the next couple of months.
I like readin' too I reckon. Mainly I like buying books but, what I really love is tormenting my friends and family.
This post isn't so much an effort to claim a tea cup at the book club, but to put Martha and Allan on the couch. Both of whom love books...and have a clinical obsession with order.*
Wackos.
That's me sittin' outside Beckham Books in the Quarter...burnin' one before I go in.
I needn't have bothered...they never have anything I want in there. Even for the book sniffers there's nothing...too many dirty cat boxes. I'd tell you to skip it but, if you're the kind of person that goes to these places...you're gonna go anyway.
Crescent City Books. We've been here before but the last picture wasn't nearly this crappy...and it didn't have a cat in it.
On this particular day I paid 25 bucks for a book on French Imperialism in Senegal. I found the same book for 10 dollars later that day but, that place didn't have a cat to feed.
Here's where the magic really happens...Arcadian Books. The place can't be much bigger than your dinning room....
...and this is the glorious result.
Relax you two...it's just a picture. You aren't actually there and the room isn't actually spinning.
Besides, this cat's got it under control.
Just ask 'im where something is. Besides, even though he's only got about a tenth of the space, it's still not as bad as Choctaw.
Speaking of books and Jackson...dig it.
This old place used to be a favorite of Mississippi legislators...evidently the state was practically run out of there at one time. According to Harry down at Choctaw...a blind drunk William Faulkner was often tucked into bed there by Eudora Welty.
The coolest thing about the Sun-n-Sands was the dance floor. Six by six parquet floor in front of a juke box. It would've been an effort to get two people on it at the same time...but worth it I'm sure.
Aside from books, there's also been a lot of talk of malaise...a lack of inspiration.
Look how easy it is y'all...just post some really bad photos and make a few asinine remarks. Failing that you could draw inspiration from your surroundings...which I'm assuming for some of y'all is gonna look a lot like this til April.
Night.
*I've got my fingers crossed that Adam also falls into this category. I think it's a safe bet.
I'm almost certain I got this as a present for my 7th birthday. That was the only real birthday party I had as a little kid. It's still got a lot of the pieces too.
Stuuuupid cops.
One of the clearest memories I have from early childhood is seeing a commercial for the premiere of Dukes of Hazzard. There's a couple of reasons it sticks out...one, I was at a friends house. He had a toy spaceship from Battle Star Galactica. It was an early one that shot plastic missiles. Recently a kid had choked to death on one of these missiles and the toy had been taken out of production. This was the horrific discussion, stamped forever into my six year old brain, that our parents were having when the commercial came on.
The commercial momentarily wiped that out...and we come to the other reason why this moment sticks out...and replaced it with sever disappointment. I had heard there was going to be a show called Dukes of Hazzard and I had convinced myself that it was going to be a show with Knights and archers like Robin Hood. Crushed.
It didn't take long to get over it though and of course, I loved the show.
How could you not?
I Am Somebody!
I found this in the same box...Ha.
It had to be from a few years later...but, it's definitely early 80's. This is the flippin elementary education I received.
Understand, I don't have a problem with Jesse. He's a con artist...and you can't hate the player. If individuals and corporations allow themselves to get got...that's on them. In full disclosure, I should point out that I have shaken the man's hand. It was in Indianapolis. It was in a hospital where Maze's mother worked and Jesse was going through the halls shaking hands.*
"Mahh Frrrriendah"...that's what he said as he reached out to grab my hand. Sweetest of all...I was wearin' an Elvis T-Shirt that had a Confederate Battle Flag as a background. I bought the shirt at a leftwing hangout...a punk rock record shop...obviously a different time.
Blueeeeeeee.....Orrrrrrrrrrrrange...Blueeeeee.....Orrrrrrrrrange!
Then there was this...my true obsession then as now...
If you look closely you can see a Bulldog being swept up in a Blue and Orange tornado. It's hard to explain just how much I hated the Georgia Bulldogs at this time in my life...almost as much as the Seminoles but, the Gators were beating FSU like a drum at this time. Georgia made clowns of 'em every year. Obviously that was long time ago...b****es.
The only actual art teacher I ever had was at Sable Palm Elementary. I'm not positive but I think her name was Ms. Robertson. She had red curly hair and glasses. She was always in a checked shirt and faded jeans...and nike tennis shoes. She was cool and even at that age I remember thinking she was young..and she was compared to the other teachers I had. She had a turn table in the class...always the Lovin' Spoonful.
I actually learned things in that class...at least I remember things I was told in the class. For instance, did you know that the reason why many portraits from early American history are so goofy lookin is because they were done by house painters trying to stay busy in the winter? I don't know if it's true or not...but, I remember it. She was great and like I said...the only real art teacher I ever had.
Anyway...
*This was the same week that Mike Tyson was charged with raping a lady in Indianapolis...there was a Black Expo or something going on there that week.
I'll fix the pictures later. If anybody knows why the new blogger won't recognize paragraphs that would be helpful too.
