Jim Croce dominated the charts for a time. At first he struck me as an American Gordon Lightfoot with his folk-rock sound. I have on an MP3 collection filed under Don McLean, his three lps: Don’t Mess Around With Jim; Got A Name; Life & Times. And as a stand-alone the hits collection: Photographs & Memories.I did have a Don’t Mess as an lp at one time. Listening to him today I see his influence in rockers like Springsteen, Mellencamp. He wrote direct Americana songs about ordinary people in love with ordinary people. A tinge of melancholy & sweet heartbreak in some of them that was relatable to me despite his heteronormative world view. I can remember dancing to Bad Bad LeRoy Brown; New York’s Not My Home captured a sense of loneliness & the hunger for more than home that always appealed to me. Lover’s Cross – take that Leonard Cohen 🙂 Plus he had a great porn stache & his jeans did his package justice. Next to him on the shelf is Dave Crosby’s If I Could Only Remember My Name – this was an lp I played constantly. The wordless harmonies are out of this world, Cowboy Movie is a great story song. It falls after CSNY make their big splash when everyone was making solo lps. His was perhaps the most compelling as it didn’t fall into trying to be a pop success. The songs aren’t radio fodder, aren’t Neil Young type rockers either.Crosby’s life was a druggie mess which might account for the lack of focus on the lp itself. It was decades before he did an okay follow up. Prison time clean him up. Rumours of his bisexuality were not confirmed in his first autobiography 😦 but he did father Melissa Etheridge’s child, so maybe. Yet another 60’s star sporting a great porn stache & who, as one time, looked fine in snug jeans.
Singa sat in front of the monitor. Brin stood behind him.
‘I’m not too close, am I?’
‘No such thing.’
Singa put his palm over the cursor guide and the hard drive started.
‘Now let’s just see what we can tap into this time.’
They had searched the various records that were in the both sub frames of the compsystem of the Monastery. Nothing was ever found that pre-dated their arrival.
Once they had had found some ancient blue prints of the the Br’n Pavilion that showed that the Sanctuary ruins were merely the tip of a vast structure that was no longer there.
Singa tapped at his key pad. ‘Okay we’re in once again. Right where we left off before.’
The screen filled with a series of icons. The ones they had examined were edged in green and there were none un-edged.
‘Let’s try …’ Brin closed his eyes and touched the screen. ‘This one.’
He opened his eyes and he had put his finger on the icon that opened the Kitchen Files.
Singa opened them.
‘It’s the operations manual for the falfa oasts, recipes, information on Preserves.’
‘Let’s see Preserves.’
Singa opened that file. There was a brief animated display of the importance of jar washing.
‘Turn up the volume and replay that bit.’
‘What is he saying?’
‘He’s saying boil the jars at …’
“So you understand what he is saying?’
‘Of course. As easily as I understand you.’
‘But I don’t understand it.’
‘Well well.’ Singa clicked on the file history.‘You are right. This is in Tr’gila. I’m fluent in other languages I didn’t even notice.’
on going 🙂 when new podcast are posted: Deliciously iTunes
November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo
my first local feature in over a year: location date TBA
June 2-4: attending: Capturing Fire 2017 –
check out these poets from Capturing Fire 2015: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCx5KD1eDccdjdTdQ28kZRNg
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