The last two nights I've taken solitary baths in the basement, claw-foot bathtub. I turn out the lights and listen to Jeff Buckley's Grace album. Grace and D'Angelo's Voodoo are the two albums that I can listen to hundreds of times and never get sick of; they get better. I want to record an album like that someday. The Soul Stirrers with Sam Cooke and Blood on the Tracks (Dylan) rank just as high, but I haven't been listening to those ones lately. Play me anything by Led Zeppelin, Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, Bob Marley's Kaya or Michael Jackson's Off the Wall and I'm happy as a bug in a tub.
The Portland trip got cancelled yesterday. I think we'll go Thursday instead. Instead I watched Peter Seller's The Bobo, with Andras, which is now my new, most favorite movie ever. It's about a smooth-talkin' singing matador.
I earned $115 today, chopping up trees for Greg.
No comments:
Post a Comment