Spring And The Derby And Such

Quoting the bard (Greg Brown not Bob Dylan):

“Spring and what's left of the hippies return from old rooming houses and
Mexico.
More letters, more journals, more poems to burn; Real heat at last.
At last my words glow.”

Hard to argue with. My wife has me busting my ass in our mud pit of a front yard. Planting new grass. Planting some flowers. The grass grows by several inches an hour but not so fast that the dogs cannot run it into the mud. Part lush, part dirt path because of the dogs I have fenced it off and re-seeded. Lawn furniture getting power washed and the covered to keep the pollen off. That same pollen blowing off the trees and turning our driveway green.
Spring seems full of possibilities even in our mired down economy.

***

The NFL draft is done. The Cardinals lost a game. The Blues are out but Hockey will roll on for another several months it seems. Now I hunker down and wait for the Tour De France about which only I, and every other person outside the U.S. cares about. So other then the Cardinals...not much. The only thing we know at this time of year is that (despite last years aberation where the Cubs hung on till late in the season) the Cgicago Cubs have been mathematically eliminated from playoff competition. Once again...everything is right with the world.

***

Physical activity seems to suggest itself but... any exertion seems to kill me. I played Ultimate with the church kids. As far as I can remember I did not even run but I ache...So I abandon physical activity and will start thinking about The Kentucky Derby. In the past two years I have been going to little bar down on Lemay Ferry and having a bottle of Busch with breakfast on Derby Day. I am going to have to break that tradition to go up to Arlington Park in Chicago with venerable handicapper Keith Dierberg to bet the races. Early odds are as follows:

ADVICE 27/1  
CHARITABLE MAN  35/1  
CHOCOLATE CANDY 12/1  
DESERT PARTY 20/1  
DUNKIRK 11/2  
FLYING PRIVATE 75/1  
FRIESAN FIRE 6/1  
GENERAL QUARTERS 30/1  
HOLD ME BACK 22/1  
I WANT REVENGE 11/4  
MINE THAT BIRD 90/1  
MR. HOT STUFF 40/1  
MUSKET MAN 22/1  
PAPA CLEM 14/1  
PIONEEROF THE NIL 7/1   
REGAL RANSOM 19/1  
SQUARE EDDIE 25/1  
SUMMER BIRD 30/1  
WEST SIDE BERNIE 30/1  
WIN WILLY 30/1 

Now...in my last act of Charity for the month of April I will tell you that I will be betting on I Want Revenge and Chocolate Candy. You heard it here first. See you at the races and heresto Spring, when anything is possible.

February Fini

So...we move shortly to March and we end the cruellest month. As I said earlier...March is still tough but it holds the promise of Spring which is one of the most beautiful things we are gifted with every year. Spring and the promise of new birth. Easter. Planting things. Grass turning green. The birds in this odd winter have already started chirping in the morning. It is kind of a blessed time...before the actual time of Spring. We will of course get several more blasts of winter, another week or two of cold rain but Spring and it’s mystery will not be held back by cold, steel gray skies...not for long.



Spring and All: Greg Brown









Spring and what's left of the hippies return from old rooming houses and
Mexico.
More letters, more journals, more poems to burn; Real heat at last.
At last my words glow.
My friend Jim just broke up his band, the guys all have jobs and the nights
got too long.
He's selling the amps, one guitar, and the van.
I'm sure you could have it all for a song.

Snow on the north side, trash in the yard, love like a newspaper tattered
and stained.
A two bourbon twilight, fog from God's cigar.
the neighbor's retarded dog chasing the train.

Don't see any good in just hanging around, take a tip from the birds and
change the scene.
Find some long river and follow it down to where our old sins have washed
up in New Orleans.

Spring and what's left of the songbirds return, to fight about loving and
nesting and such.
Thanks for the letters you sent back to burn.
Their smoke is as light, and as dark, as your touch.



Brown is another unappreciated treasure. “Two Bourbon Twighlight, fog from God’s cigar. Neighbors retarded dog, chasing a train.” Indeed.

Record review 1: Greg Brown: Evening Call

I listen to a lot of music and am sometimes called upon for recommendations which I do not make freely, not because I do not have good opinions but because music is a personal thing for me and a passion for me that if you don’t share it...my taste means nothing and will probably put you off. If Neil Young did not at some point change your life or guide your strife then your ability to understand the dreadful beauty of Dinosaur jr., Built To Spill or...a million other groups will simply not be there. So when people ask for pics I smile (pleased at the question) but knowing as I try to inaccurately assess their tastes that I will be unintentionally condescending and my rec ultimately unsatisfying. Alll that having been said...I love music and if your interested....
Greg Brown:
Evening Call
Red House records 2006
Greg Brown. One of our greatest most prolific living singer songwriters. “Singer Songwriter.” What a sick little classification that is. Some sensitive young boy or girl or...even worse some grizzled middle aged or letter, world weary, whiskey voiced moaner strumming somewhat inadequately on a guitar as they...impart unwanted knowledge of all the bad shit that has happened to them. Forget about love songs... this is white man blues and it is sad and troubling and sometimes....yes sometimes beautiful. Greg Brown...fish (trout, fly fishing) obsessed, religious, atheist, humanist, Christian fundamentalist confusaholic. His CD “Slant 6 Mind” has some beautiful stuff on it and every CD has something to unearth but damn this man is tired and yet full of love for everything life throws. He is a good guitar strummer but wisely on this CD hooks up with Bo Ramsey on the electric side and it helps. Brown is a poet before he is a songwriter and his song structure, lyrical choices and phrasing are as interesting as anything Dylan ever threw at us. There are of course songs about love and women and how they rarely hook up anywhere but your head. There is social commentary but it needs to be looked for an inferred as he describes the landscape. Occasionally he hits you over the head with something like this line from Cooneville Slough:
“We came out of the country and drove into the cityscape -Like every other one in America, it's a black and white town.”
That is fine but most of it is nuance. Bleak but...tinged with a little joy and a little pleasure at the struggle. Just enough anyway to make getting up the next day worth the effort. This is an album of back ground music in front of a fire, not talking much...staring...listening and exchanging some soft words and some smiles as he occasionally strikes a beautiful chord. It is not a gem but it is good. We grade hard down at the diner....6 1/2 Slingers out of 10.