Another Ounce of Oatmeal for an Already-Overdue Meatloaf
Sorry, kids. I slept less than 20 hours all weekend, so I'm home today, passed out. Grodd save the telemarketer who disturbs my slumber, too. I go now to visit with dreams of the dear departed and whatever cultural icons my subconscious chooses to summon...I once had a dream that Johnny Cash came to me for advice. We were standing in a harvested cornfield, just outside of a major city (visible in the distance, over his customarily black-clad shoulder), and he was asking me to help him with his NBA Finals bracket sheet for 1998. It being 1998, at least according to him (and the day will never come that I argue with Johnny Cash, dead or not, dream or not!) I told him to go with Chicago. I hope that his shade rests easy, somewhere in my brain's back nine, knowing that Jordan's Last Shot was just for him (or at least my approximation of him). Until this moment, it had not occurred to me that Johnny Cash never mentioned basketball *once* in the two autobiographies I've read.
I promise a *real* blog, or at least a better one than this one and its dwarven brother from Saturday, tonight or tomorrow. Much to report, long good weekend, but I'm just too tired to articulate. I leave you with the wisdom of OutKast, curiously apt in the case of a Yankee WASP like me:
"We missed a lot of church so the music is our confessional."
Good morning and good night.
Sorry, kids. I slept less than 20 hours all weekend, so I'm home today, passed out. Grodd save the telemarketer who disturbs my slumber, too. I go now to visit with dreams of the dear departed and whatever cultural icons my subconscious chooses to summon...I once had a dream that Johnny Cash came to me for advice. We were standing in a harvested cornfield, just outside of a major city (visible in the distance, over his customarily black-clad shoulder), and he was asking me to help him with his NBA Finals bracket sheet for 1998. It being 1998, at least according to him (and the day will never come that I argue with Johnny Cash, dead or not, dream or not!) I told him to go with Chicago. I hope that his shade rests easy, somewhere in my brain's back nine, knowing that Jordan's Last Shot was just for him (or at least my approximation of him). Until this moment, it had not occurred to me that Johnny Cash never mentioned basketball *once* in the two autobiographies I've read.
I promise a *real* blog, or at least a better one than this one and its dwarven brother from Saturday, tonight or tomorrow. Much to report, long good weekend, but I'm just too tired to articulate. I leave you with the wisdom of OutKast, curiously apt in the case of a Yankee WASP like me:
"We missed a lot of church so the music is our confessional."
Good morning and good night.
posted by Thom Guthrie, Bassist and Adventurer at 9:18 AM
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