Most views and visitors last week since February.
Another NOLA pillar. I cannot track down my anthology of his “Produced By” sides, so we’ll take Fats Domino from 1957, on a disc that includes their eerie collaboration, “Valley of Tears,” which I’ve posted about before.
PS: Almost forgot — Bartholomew wrote a tune with one of my all-time favorite titles: “Who Drank My Beer While I Was in the Rear.”
- Showdown in the morning with a turkey hen and her seven “turkettes.” One of the mindless chicks ran the wrong way and Ma made it clear she wasn’t going to move an inch until the little one got back to her. She made some “come here” clucks and then took the group away to the far side of the neighbor’s backyard. First time turkettes ever seen here.
- Visit to the Gardens at Elm Bank out in Wellesley. Beautiful. Educational. A lot of it fairly recently upgraded/developed. Quick threat of rain that did not happen added a thrill. The big thrill: there was a wedding there this evening and we told the couple we quite approved of the date because it was our anniversary, too. (Only bummer, the big main mansion is being renovated — looks like it really needs it — so you can’t go inside.)
- Transcendent dinner at Bocado Tapas Wine Bar in which every dish was lovely to unforgettable top-of-the-line, particularly the Duck Confit Croquetas — you know how much I love duck and this was a Top Five serving of it I can remember. (And the bullfight painting in the Men’s Room is a hoot-plus.)
- The mob of 50 or so way-out Bikers who passed us on Route 9 going back to Brookline. “Better than Fellini” as D put it. The especially crazy pink-wings and wiggy-clown costumes were only enhanced because almost all of the roaring riders were Biker Chicks. PS: The vibe was a thunderous “get out of the way, straights!!” Wherever this bunch goes to party tonight, I know I’d be in tiny pieces after an hour.
I have not seen all of her animations, though I have tried. She paid a price for all her fierce (admirable) independence. I see looking at her New York paintings that we shared two major obsessions, Carl Barks and those Time-Life dinosaurs. (Must note the reference to Super Duck, as well. Good one. Counters Crumb.)
OK, this happened to me this afternoon. Happens every three-four years, for decades, swear to Yod. At a stoplight, I pull up next to another driver during windows-down weather conditions. And it sounds like he (always a he), is saying my name, again and again: “Milo? … Milo? … Milo?” I assume it’s “Hello” or something like that maybe in an accent. I look over and even before cell phones, the person is just looking forward, never seen them before in my life, going “Milo?” “Milo?”
Karma messing with my head, I think.
And as I do from time to time, I offer a reminder that there once was a different world online.
In those sad days I realized the end of spontaneous community also meant the end of owning your own freedom.
Holds up today. Would not have been more surprised if half the people in the city had three eyes and green skin: