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Cowboy Jazz

I've been thinking about the terrific band Cowboy Jazz. I had cassettes of their two albums, Swing Boogie and That's What We Like About the West. I've never found a CD or mp3 files. They were from Baltimore or DC area & I have no idea who turned me on to them. Three women singers & a lineup of sensational western swing musicians. I guess they're Asleep at the Wheel with women leads? 


I bought a Tony Kosinec record because I'd loved him long ago but I hardly got through it - not even close to in tune & the songs were awful except for one, it had a car in it but I can't remember more than that. 


All I do is recapture my old interests, it seems

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Catching up

Robyn knew what this thrilling operation was all about—construction. 

My computer has been in the shop & now is like new, with a replacement trackpad & hard drive. It's almost exactly the same except for a a few glitches that I'm trying to fix. 


Kid Sean came over & he helped clean my office & came with me to the Brickman for light-blocking film for my windows—& I discovered a spray paint that makes them opaque. I probably got a brain tumor spraying them today but now light gets in & people can't really make out what's going on in my office. Which is in a half-basement, putting the windows at street level. I've had black curtains for years. Right now I feel exposed but I think I'll get used to it. 


I had class & Sylvie & Robyn & I went to a cool show on Ludlow Street, a young Pakistani-Canadian painter whose name I don't know, sort of a more vibrant Lichtenstein.


Sunday was beach training, a nap, & then we saw Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, which I liked much more than I expected to & it didn't seem long at all. 


So this is, like, 10 blog posts rolled into one. 

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Monday Quote

Make the wrong thing difficult & the right thing easy.

~ Bruce Nauman on breaking horses


but doesn't this work for politicians, husbands, kids?

if only it worked for cats:

how serene & unbitten my toes!

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Was it a dream?

Det Norske Sovebiblioteket – The Norwegian Sleeping Library


a room on a street

to lie down with a book

lamp throws apricot light on the bed

we doze & drift & doze

Horace, a poet of another dimension,

orders a whiskey sour





I translated it into norsk with a little help from Tone & Berit (but not MUCH):


Det Norske Sovebiblioteket



et rom på en gate

legge seg ned med en bok

lampen kaster et aprikoslys på sengen

vi døser og flyter og døser

Horace — en dikter fra en annen dimensjon — 

bestiller en whisky sour

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I'm not a fashion maven, never have been, but I wish I'd been able to get to Spain for "Balenciaga and Spanish Painting" (through September, so maybe...). His incredible dresses are matched with, in dialogue with, really, works by El Greco, Velazquez, Goya, Murillo and others. 


Hey look, I can get the catalogue, every garment & every painting, for only $75. That's a LOT less than a plane ticket to Madrid, though not nearly as fun. 

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Verizon grrrrrrrrrrrr

This tale starts maybe two years ago, when both my home phone (a landline of 42 years) & office phone (also a landline I'd had for over 20 years) stopped working due to problems in the line. Verizon pretty much refused to fix them & so I switched my office phone to a cell (which is why my cell phone has a 212 number). I also kept paying for my home phone, $43 month after month, even though I couldn't use it. I thought about how useful it was to have a landline during blackouts & other emergencies & I kept hoping they would fix it. 


Finally, a couple months ago, I canceled my home phone. There was a small amount I still owed but they told me don't worry about it. Which I didn't, till I got a bill from a COLLECTION AGENCY for $16.48. Verizon said they sent a bill but I never got it. Blah blah blah, on the line to customer service, then financial services, then customer services—& just when they were wiping it out, my phone dropped the link! 


I could have written a damn check but I was mad—I paid my bill month after month & got nothing, & all I asked is that they spot me that last really minuscule amount. 


Taking a breather before I call back to see what happened...... YES! They took care of it. At least something worked.


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I always feel good about this little being who purrs whenever I'm near. Except when he's biting my feet. 

I'm feeling good about Esti lemon hummus


but not about much else



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Monday Quote

It is lack of confidence that kills a civilization. We can destroy ourselves by cynicism and disillusion just as effectively as by bombs. 

~ Kenneth Clark


To believe all men honest would be folly. To believe none so is something worse. 

~ John Quincy Adams


And so we soldier on, trying to believe in people's good hearts & intentions, & that the racism & fury we feel so strongly is a passing whirlwind & not the ground we stand on. 


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What, me shallow?

A little story about men with beards: I knew Johnny (this isn't Johnny) for several years, all of which time he had a heavy beard. One day I went to a reading at the Poetry Project & said, Who's that? about some guy across the room. That's Johnny! No, that cute guy over there. That's Johnny, my friend repeated, he shaved. We started dating soon after. 

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Medical knowledge

I was reading some humorous stories about people's self-diagnoses ("Doctor, I think I've caught that Down's syndrome") & remembered many years ago when it looked like I had pneumonia. I was so tired I couldn't even climb a flight of stairs so my late friend Roberta hustled me over to urgent care. They took a chest X-ray & I went to the doctor's office where my X-ray was pinned to the light box. He pointed—"there & there, yes, pneumonia."


Yeah yeah. I wasn't really looking because I saw the giant tumor that covered half of my chest. "What's that?!" I gasped, wondering how it was even possible I was alive.


"Darlin'," he said, "that's your heart."






Never mind. I'm going home now to take my medicine. 

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