Nothing solid
is made out of wood
any more,
The heart of it
is sandwiched pulp,
Shavings, glue,
Pressed cardboard,
The planed edges
Curling like veneers
over long teeth,
horns...
Peeling. Yellow. Clipped.
For all that,
it seemed quite flawless,
Hunkered down,
On all Fours
in the 2nd hand shop.
A good price.
A steal.
"Just how do you intend
to get it home ?"
the woman asked,
my £10 note
Crisply disappearing.
I stared at the casters.
"We'll wheel it there,"
I said.
"Up around the corner."
"You can't do that.
The wheels will break."
Pencilled eyebrows
Darting, lightly drawn,
Scribbled
"On the pavement."
"Well..." I said.
A little unconvinced.
We upended it onto the
Trolley, finally.
My wife waved as she
Lit out ahead
with the baby stroller.
Boxing clever.
I was scarcely out the
door when it listed,
Crashed,
Wounded itself at
my feet.
"Watch out !"
the woman winced.
Two steps right
behind me.
I wrestled it upright,
Made it over the kerb,
before it slid off again.
Hal Roach's music box.
in and out a clinch.
I caught up with my
wife, my son,
Snatched it off the
trolley and onto the
Stretcher.
"It's no use," I grimaced.
"All advice is lethal."
We returned the trolley.
Trundled it home
Without further incident.
Up two flights of stairs
To convalesce by the sofa,
Cracked. Scarred.
Mean black toes intact,
but bruised. Jack Johnson
On coiled uppers.
Penultimately, quite
A'right.
▼ MILES DAVIS: RIGHT OFF from "A Tribute to Jack Johnson" LP
(Columbia) 1971 (US)
16 comments:
Welcome back! I hope *your* mean toes survived unscathed...
Thank you Holly.
I've nursed the wound. The listening did me good.
Previously, I have avoided the list. In all but name. I am a slow child. I depend on the occasional nudge, but I persist.
Miles Davis kicked me in the ribs. Again. He's not on the list, I don't believe, but no matter.
A catalyst. Like Catelonia.
Pablo.
My toes are shrivelled, but otherwise as well as can be expected. Contorted, by chance, but kicking. Gnarled.
Milo in reverse.
Cat-A-lonia, even - as in cat-A-tonia - my spelling is abysmal.
Even half inebriated, the thunderous errors I am capable of do not wholly escape me.
Even more infuriating is my inability to let it lie.
Jack Johnson? That's that mellow surfer dude, right?
(just kidding)
I moved shit all day, set up a cool shelf system for an old friend on the second floor balcony of his new place,, his landlord made me disassemble it. Too heavy for the deck. Water dripping down onto bar b que. Unhappy wife below, yipping little dog. Birdshit,birdshit,Birdshit,Bird- shit. Sounds bad, right? I got the whole thing, plants, wood, bricks and blocks. Now it's all mine. Just thought I'd mention it. We are moving to the country, right quick too. Once more, I abandon a ghetto for a slice of Sebastopolian Hummingbird and Red Tail Hawks. Out of here by 7/1. YeeHaw
Brushback:
The Jack Johnson theme has been gestating for some time. I might have overcooked it; I went off on a Miles Davis jag for days on end... Jumping straight from 'Birth of the Cool' to everything re-emerging from 1970, mostly.
Oddly enough, I surfed some Brian & Dennis Wilson on the side along the way. Some Chet Baker, too. As a counterpoint.
With a head full of this, I finally caved in and pried open the Nurse With Wound List out of idle curiosity.
I'm still picking at the scab.
Tim:
Neighbours - downstairs neighbours, at that - are a curse that will not be revoked.
Are you carting all of this shit with you to the boondocks ? The plants, wood, bricks and blocks ?
Seems a shame to see it go to waste, but a terrible burden all the same. A lot of our stuff is still in boxes. I have forgotten exactly what is where, for the most part.
Let the ghetto burn. The raw remoteness of who-knows-where sounds too good to squander. I can see the appeal. I was just reading one of your older posts; the one with the expensive Italian loafers overstepping the nark. And crying from the wardrobe. All of it great stuff, even if it made for vaguely uncomfortable reading.
7/1 is quick, alright.
I hope you will still have internet access ? I mean, I trust you are not intent on shuffling off the shackles of consumerism to a wholly ludicrous degree ?
Good luck with the move. Safe voyage, and keep the stress to a containable minimum.
Milo sends his regards. He is a busy fellow these days, but always smiling. Early to rouse in the morning. And late to sleep.
Wagons, roll.
The nww list is a useful starting point for any number of interesting adventures - as well as for many dead ends!
Any favorite discoveries?
Curiously, the surprise was in finding that much of the stuff on the list I already have in my possession, albeit much of it scavenged here and there and never owned on vinyl.
Much of the more obscure Krautrock entries - avant jazz, specifically - I stumbled upon first courtesy of WFMU's 'Up For the Download' a few years back: Archimedes Badkar, that kind of shit. A lot of it rather good. Blue Sun. Moolah. Sperm.
The Capsicum Red I can live without, although in fairness I have not given it my undivided attention.
A lot of the stuff featured on the list, of course, has found its way to reissue precisely because it features on that list, I suspect.
Comus was an unexpected revelation.
Nice to see Bomis Prendin in there. My conversations with Bill Altice last year prompted me to explore other entries I had not come across prior to exposure to the Karen Cooper Complex (not on the list, but well deserving of inclusion).
How about you ?
Comus, yes! Have you explored Spirogyra (NOT Spyrogyra)? - not as good, but worthwhile.
And I am so glad someone else likes Karen Cooper Complex as much as I do! (thanks to 'fmu & the fma for hipping me)
More later - at work & have to do inventory :-( It's 95 degrees F. & I'm *melting*. As is the candy I'm trying to inventory!
Thanks for the tip on the misleading 'Y'. I would not have seen past that.
'Burn the Bridges' might be a decent place to begin ? 95˚F and climbing. Or the Brain releases ?
I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing 'Burn the Bridges'. I'd humbly suggest 'St. Radigunds', 'Old Boot Wine', & 'Bells, Boots & Shambles' (I *think* the latter 2 were Brain releases, but discogs can be untrustworthy).
I like SR the best, then BBS, followed rather distantly by OBW - love to see what you think!
2:10 am & still 81 F outside (my house is hotter still) - off to fetch a frozen bandanna (yes bandanna, not banana) from the fridge, to sleep, perchance to dream...
Yes. Discogs can strike the occasional bum note, depending on what release is recorded or omitted, but on the whole it affords a generally reliable overview.
Polydor might have issued both OBW and BBS prior to Brain, I am guessing, but I'm less than certain.
81˚F in the shade at 2AM ?
I have succumbed to yet another cold. The rain is perpetually threatening.
81 F. in the blackest, blackest night, at 2 am.
Currently 90 F (heat index of *97* F at friggin' 11:34 am. As in before noon,
It's like the start of a Spike Lee movie.
Thoughts for a soundtrack?
What ? You don't care for The Fall ?
I stole your bandana.
Love The Fall-ah!
Work-ah, work-ah and lack of bandan(n)a-ah.
Will be back-ah...
Blue cheese contains natural amphetamines. Why are students not informed about this?
- Mark E.
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