Umm...

Having scored a bunch of free bookcases recently, I've been sorting the substantial quantities of books we own so that we stand a fighting chance of finding the one we're looking for. It has been going pretty well, and mostly there's a logical place for any given book. But some defeated me and I decided I needed a category of "books that have no category".

Results so far have been disappointing. I must ponder this a while.

Stay classy Harper Lee fans

When I heard that a prequel (of sorts) of To Kill a Mockingbird was to be published, my first thought was that it was a really bad idea. Even worse, it's reported that Harper Lee's editor at the time knocked it back for a re-write that became the classic. In my experience a professional editor's judgement is usually pretty good. It's the same reasoning that makes me avoid 'director's cut' packaging of films; artists aren't usually dispassionate judges of their own work.

I note that Jessa Crispin writing in the NY Times had the same view. (She also thinks the Harry Potter books are dreadful, so gold star for Jessa.) But ultimately it doesn't matter. There's an Anchorman 2 out there somewhere, but I've managed to never see it, read reviews of it or even seriously acknowledge its existance. For me the legend of Ron Burgundy is untarnished. Have some jazz flute (with a nod to Jethro Tull for good measure):




Yeah, I just compared To Kill a Mockingbird to Anchorman.

The clever country?

I was driving in rural Victoria last weekend and saw this sign between Ararat and Maryborough:

I'm willing to bet they don't.

Meta-selfies?

My wife and I were walking through a stunning piece of native karri forest south of Margaret River in WA last month. There was a short walking track ending in a bit of a lookout. There were several people on the lookout, and as I got close I heard "Hey, take a picture of me taking a selfie".

True story. I would have taken a picture of the scene to document it, but the irony meter on my camera would've redlined.

Animal onsies - "I want that one"

I was walking through the Belconnen market and went past the shop that sells dreadful quality clothing and other dodgy bits and pieces. They had this:

That just might be the worst animal onsie ever. I don't even know what kind of animal it's meant to be. (Whatever it is, it clearly isn't very well.)

But it got me thinking about an animal onsie I'd be happy to own.

You know you want one.

Eternal ambiguity

I went for a run in Wellington, New Zealand, and the path back from the Botanic Gardens took me through the old cemetery, where I found this headstone:

Poor William - killed accidentally at age 29 but remembered by 'a few friends'.

But I have to wonder about the 'sincerely regretted' at the bottom. Do they mean 'geez, we'll miss you bro', or is it more like 'oops, sorry about that dude'? I guess we'll never know...

Serendipity and the large music collection

Back when I was a student, I bought records (yes, I'm that old) very sparingly, which meant that I played each one many times, and knew most of the songs pretty well. There's still a few songs that take me time travelling whenever I hear them because they're indelibly part of that time. Bon Marley's No Woman, no Cry is one of those. Others I've moved on from completely and wonder what the deal was (looking at you, Jethro Tull's Broadsword and the Beast).  Either way, they all got a good airing and a chance to be well assimilated.

These days, with a larger disposal income, I buy a lot more music, and still enjoy it thoroughly. But it does mean that sometimes I buy something, listen to it once or twice, sometimes while doing something else - the soundtrack to the writing of this piece is Dylan's beautiful Not dark yet - and the result is that I don't really know what I've got.

Six years ago I bought volume 8 of the Dylan Bootleg Series, Tell Tale Signs. It must have been one of those albums that I didn't play much before putting on the careful alphabetised shelf. (Everyone alphabetises their CDs, right?) That's the only conceivable explanation for me not noticing that the album contains an absolute pearler of a song in Red River Shore. This is one of Dylan's great songs - yes, it's really up with Tangled up in Blue or All Along the Watchtower.

In form this is a standard ballad, with 16 verses rhyming the 2nd and 4th lines. Eight of them rhyme 'shore', and it's always effortless - none of the awkwardness 'like a bird that flew/tangled up in blue' here. (Though all the other rhymes in Tangled up in Blue are excellent.) At first blush it's thematically a standard ballad too, being a tale of love long lost. But there aren't too many folk standards that begin

Some of us turn off the lights and we live
In the moonlight shooting by
Some of us scare ourselves to death in the dark
To be where the angels fly

That's the crux of the song right there - a reflection on opportunities passed up. There's a very nice essay by Chris Gregory here, so I'll spare you the rest of my analysis.

But it'd be wrong to imply that the song works only because of its lyrics. The music is wonderful, building from a simple beginning to a lovely Tex-Mex ensemble piece. In particular, Augie Meyers deserves a name check, because his accordion work on this song is just beautiful.

You can listen to it here. You're welcome.


Red River Shore

Some of us turn off the lights and we live
In the moonlight shooting by
Some of us scare ourselves to death in the dark
To be where the angels fly

Some of us turn off the lights and we live
In the moonlight shooting by
Some of us scare ourselves to death in the dark
To be where the angels fly

Pretty maids all in a row lined up
Outside my cabin door
I've never wanted any of 'em wanting me
Except the girl from the Red River shore

Well, I sat by her side and for a while I tried
To make that girl my wife
She gave me her best advice and she said
Go home and lead a quiet life

Well, I been to the east and I been to the west
And I been out where the black winds roar
Somehow though I never did get that far
With the girl from the Red River shore

Well, I knew when I first laid eyes on her
I could never be free
One look at her and I knew right away
She should always be with me

Well, the dream dried up a long time ago
Don't know where it is anymore
True to life, true to me
Was the girl from the Red River shore

Well, I'm wearing the cloak of misery
And I've tasted jilted love
And the frozen smile upon my face
Fits me like a glove

Well, I can't escape from the memory
Of the one I'll always adore
All those nights when I lay in the arms
Of the girl from the Red River shore

Well, we're living in the shadows of a fading past
Trapped in the fires of time
I've tried not to ever hurt anybody
And to stay out of the life of crime

And when it's all been said and done
I never did know the score
One more day is another day away
From the girl from the Red River shore

Well, I'm a stranger here in a strange land
But I know this is where I belong
I'll ramble and gamble for the one I love
And the hills will give me a song

Though nothing looks familiar to me
I know I've stayed here before
Once a thousand nights ago
With the girl from the Red River shore

Well, I went back to see about her once
Went back to straighten it out
Everybody that I talked to had seen us there
Said they didn't know who I was talking about

Well, the sun went down on me a long time ago
I've had to pull back from the door
I wish I could have spent every hour of my life
With the girl from the Red River shore

Now I heard of a guy who lived a long time ago
A man full of sorrow and strife
That if someone around him died and was dead
He knew how to bring 'em on back to life

Well, I don't know what kind of language he used
Or if they do that kind of thing anymore
Sometimes I think nobody ever saw me here at all
Except the girl from the Red River shore