Well, dear readers, how can this month almost be half over? It is madness of either the highest or lowest order. We’re just two-and-a-half months away from – a new year. Ponder THAT for a half-a-minute. Well, you know what they say – time marches on, tempus fugit, time flies when you’re having fun, and all those time sayings. Maybe time could just slow down a little so we could stop and smell the non-aromatic roses that no longer smell thanks to the chemicals they use. We could stop and smell the garlic – that smell comes through with flying colors. Of course, as per usual, I have no idea what the HELL I’m talking about, other than time is a fleeting thing flitting hither and thither as well as yon. If hope is the thing with feathers, time is the thing with ticking – the ticking of the clock, ticktock, ticktock, goes the clock. What am I, a cut song from Promises, Promises all of a sudden? Otherwise, I am sitting here like so much fish, listening to sax player Bud Shank play themes from motion pictures – an LP I had back when it came out and like most movie theme albums I liked it very much. It’s got catchy tunes like Georgy Girl, The Sand Pebbles, Any Wednesday, Hotel, and the rarest thing on the album, the theme from the movie version of Luv. I will admit here and now as well as now and here that I watched no motion picture last evening. The reasons for this are varied and many as well as many and varied. I spent some of the evening continuing to rearrange things in the book room – shelves too crowded and tight for my taste, so I moved some things to the closet shelves and then one of the kitchen cabinets – that turned out great and I may put more up there. What else? I slept nine hours with some truly weirdo dreams, one of which was having Mike Mazurki asking if he could have a meal with me – in New York. We went into Mamma Leone’s, a restaurant I never actually went to when it was open, but they were only serving Japanese food, so we left. I mean, what the HELL is that about? Speaking of what the HELL, the Internet just went down, so who knows when these here notes will actually be posted. Very irritating. Right at midnight. Maybe it’s a scheduled thing they forgot to tell everyone about. Well, we’ll hope for the best and that by the time I finish them we’ll be back online. Mike Mazurki. I ask you. Ooh, I think we just came back online – let’s hope it lasts. Of course, now I cannot think of a thing to write. Not one damn thing. Well, now playing Charles Gerhard conducting the opening titles for Airport by Alfred Newman – one of THE great main titles of all time. That’s the way to start a movie. Now what? I am symied, I tell you. Perhaps I should tell the tale of The Randy Vicar and the Frosted Flakes. That one’s a corker. That would take up some space, wouldn’t it, but then again, this here site is a family site. Perhaps I’ll put together a book of The Randy Vicar tales. What do you think? Anyway, I didn’t do much other than working at the piano and a good deal of arranging things and reorganizing – and watching some irritating YouTube videos. And here we are.
Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, I’ll do whatever needs doing, I’ll work at the piano, I’ll do a little more reorganizing, I’ll choose more songs, I’ll shave and shower, and then I’m having an early supper with a friend, which I’ll talk more about when it’s done. After that, I can watch, listen, and relax.
Tomorrow, she of the Evil Eye comes and so I’ll be out of here early and having a light breakfast, perhaps with Robert Yacko. Wednesday, I’m having lunch with David Wechter, and then the rest of the week is more of the same.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up when I’m up, do whatever needs doing, work at the piano, reorganize, choose more songs, have an early supper, and then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: What is the strangest dream you’ve ever had, one that has stuck with you all these years? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, wishing I’d actually had dinner with Mike Mazurki at Mamma Leone’s.