All this week’s meditation and contemplating has yet to make me a good person, as evidenced by three things today.
Whenever I go on work trips to Bellevue, WA, and I arrive in my luxuriously appointed, yet essentially lonely, hotel room, I always listen to Neko Case singing songs about heartbreak, small town animosity, and Tacoma, which lies somewhere down the road from Seattle and is locally most famous for a paper mill and monster truck rallies. Neko Case is one of those modern country singers that it’s acceptable to listen to; lots of banjo and pedal steel, less of some mulleted inbred singing about his pick up truck.
Continue reading “Neko Case”
My wife gave me two books for my birthday; Kraken, a paen to the wondrous cephalopod, and Cowboy Feng’s Bar And Grill. After finishing Kraken, we’ve been reading the latter to our daughter as her bedtime story. We finished two nights ago, and moved on to something ghastlier, of which more later.
Continue reading “Cowboy Feng’s Space Bar And Grill”