Among The Jumbled Heap

Snow Day

I ventured out on foot today, for as you can see our car was buried.  This is my first blog post composed w my phone using Wordpress for Android.

Plotless. Characterless.

A novel with no intimation of story whatsoever, Writer would like to contrive. And with no characters. None. Plotless. Characterless. Yet seducing the reader into turning the pages nonetheless. -David Markson This is Not a Novel I don't like what's happening to me. I've started hating everything I read. Reading is my long-time lover, but she just doesn't turn me on right now. I tried to deny it, tried making excuses, but I have to own my feelings. Every bit of contemporary lit th...

Where Eagles Dare

Punk Rock Ukelele When I was a young wart hog, I fancied myself a punk rocker. Even in the late 80s, punk was a niche genre that bordered on nostalgia. The heyday of punk rock was already past, yet Punk lingered on and provided an outlet for my pubescent rage. I remember well the first time Big Bob stuck an earbud in my ear that piped in the Suicidal Tendencies's "I Saw Your Mommy. That was my introduction to punk, which was not exactly punk, more of a thrash L.A. Gangster kind of metal, ...

Shoot The Tiger

Have you ever heard that thing about how you can sing every Emily Dickenson poem to the tune of Gilligan's Island?  It's a common English teacher joke that's only funny because it's true.  Try it, you'll see. In China there is an ancient poetic form called the Ci .  Most of these poems were written in the Song Dynasty.  The Ci share what we in the West call a poetic meter, and it is believed that the meter is in fact a tune and that each of these poems was meant to be sung to this now lost tu...

Jenny’s Tomay-Toes

Here's another one from the Baxter Lane Animistic Men's Chorus.  This is a long one, clocking in at over six minutes, BUT it includes: shamanistic drumming, ukulele solo, extended throat singing, harmonica playing, original lyrics, and a turn toward the lewd right towards the end.  NO, it's not lewd.  Get your mind out of the gutter; there's no metaphor involved.