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  • Zibby Zabble

    There was music there. Musicality, I like to think. And there was a little guitar. And enthusiasm. “Say! Say! Say!”
    And there was that kid, that funky funky kid — and that unusual groove. What was her deal? It like she was clear-channeling.
    And then there was the last one. The one who seemed to understand it all. He summed things up. He broke things down. And the rest of us just tried to keep pace.
    Me? Me I’m still not sure. Of anything. Ever. Except this: we call it Zibby Zabble. Because really, what else could we call it?
    Press Play to play.
    playtime: gone in 25 seconds
    file specs: a scant 400K

  • x-post: reflections on the President’s speech

    Another day at the RNC, and another post over on Edgewise. Today’s topic: how George Bush gave the greatest speech of his life. And how he’s still gonna lose. Read all about it, here

  • x-post: still yet more politics, for yea, it is the season of gnashed teeth

    Over on Edgewise, a pair of reactions to last night’s RNC festivities:

    • A somewhat strained attempt to explain away the unusual behavior of one Zell Miller, here
    • Meanwhile, it’s Mr. Happy Head!, here

  • My 6-year-old, on an egg and bacon biscuit she recently had for breakfast:

    “This is better than some lollipops I know.”

  • x-post: more politics / RNC quick takes

    Some thoughts about Tuesday night’s Republican Nation Convention (with micro-commentary on Arnold, the twins, Laura, and GWB’s cameo), all found on ye olde Edgewise, right over here.

  • x-post: Politics, Politics, Politics

    Three new political posts over on Edgewise and DailyKos:

    • Witness the birth of an exciting new meme (“So-Called ‘Bush Twins’”) here (and take the poll!)
    • Then read all about the true state of the horse race (hint: it’s tied) here
    • And finally, a quick look at the newest new low in smear tactics (“And Ye Shall Judge Them by What They Say About John McCain”), including a brief foray into things theological, here

  • Dink

    Waiting outside the theater
--dink.
his mother's umbrella opened
accidentally
into the backside
of his buzz-cut head.
--dink.
--dink.
    He blinked.
He tightened.
      --dink.

  • x-post: And the chipmunks, and the vortex, and the amusement park of it all

    Something tells me it’s all happening at Monkey Vortex Radio Theater. That’s right. A brand new segment of genuine Monkey Vortex Creep-edy&#8482.
    We call this one Not Cool. Written by yers truly, it clocks in at less than 2 megs / 2 minutes, and features the estimable voice talents of Christian Crumlish, Eileen Dahl, Bee Nisbet, and M. “Butterfly” Smith. Enjoy! -CV

  • Downed Them All

    For this week’s tune, I sent bass and a pair of keyboard tracks to Yaniv Soha — my frequent co-conspirator and the recently ousted former CFO of yanivsoha.com. Yaniv added vocals and atmospheric guitar and, hey presto — here are the results. (If the music sounds a little familiar, those bass and keyboard tracks also show up as the back up band behind Dan Mummert’s excellent The Lotus Eaters, over on Monkey Vortex Radio Theater .)
    Press Play to play.
    I liked Yaniv’s lyrics so much I thought I’d include them here for your reading pleasure:
    Downed Them All

       come down like the rain again
rain down like the fall
come down from those asian drugs
you downed them all
       catacomb stalls
soft decay
soft-spoken calls
shades of grey
       you drown them all

    And that’s the name of that tune.

  • The Getaway

    This weekend I dropped by to see Mr. Davis (not his real name), the ninety-four-year-old man who lives around the corner. He can’t see much, or hear much, or get around much. But he still has a bright smile. And his mind is sharp.
    I was interested in hearing from him firsthand what it was like growing up in the Oklahoma and Missouri Ozark Mountains during in the 1910s and 20s. And we talked about that for a little over an hour.
    When I got up to leave he started to tell me one more story – something from more recent times. As he spoke, he was sitting across from me in a room filled with things he’d made or repaired himself, useful things, most of them made out of steel. His fifty-five-year-old son rested in a nearby corner chair, listening with an “I know how how this story goes” smile while Mr. Davis described a lady he’d met a few years back, some time after Mrs. Davis had passed away.
    “Well this woman, she got to coming up by here a foot. She’s older woman, kinda slim. And she stop a little bit, finally got to stoppin’ out there and go in and set with me in the garden.
    “She said she lived in the back part of The Getaway.”
    (The Getaway is about five blocks from where Mr. Davis and I live. It used to be a bar, but somewhere along the line it was turned into a house. The old sign’s still out front but now there are curtains in the windows.)
    “That’s the only thing she told me and I couldn’t find her name or nothin’ in the phone book. No — no phone number. But I think she — she had a phone or something some way.
    “I haven’t seen her in quite a while. Maybe she died, I don’t know. I can’t get down there to find out, if she’s still living. Or died. Or what.
    “I went down there once. Went down there. With my other boy, Larry. Drove in the side way. I didn’t see no way you could go to the back of The Getaway from in there. Seemed like she said you went in this side of The Getaway. That street and in the back. In the back of The Getaway she said.
    “So I went looking for a way into the back part of The Getaway building. I don’t know if that’s what she meant or not.
    “I still don’t know if that’s where she lived.”
    Mr. Davis laughed for a moment, with his bright smile and then he went a little quiet. Not sad, really. Just reflective. It was a mystery, what had happened. And he was sorting through the facts.
    “She may have died by now, she was in the hospital a time or two, something wrong with her. She was about…eighty years old.
    “I don’t know.”
    He paused.
    “Can’t live forever, I’ll tell you.”