I have been reading Shakespeare, but definitely not skydiving.
I took a long weekend and had brunch with Joanie a few blocks from where we used to live, back in town. Everyone seems a lot younger and more heavily tattooed. The prices have gone up at the breakfast spot.
I walked from said breakfast spot back to my home on a perfect Friday afternoon. I was looking to write songs about Tualatin Summer for a cassingle of the same name. As I walked along Foster Rd., a song came together about a certain unmatchable crawfish-eating feat at the 1970 Tualatin Crawfish Festival. It worked.
I recorded that song, plus another song called "Tualatin Summer" (to add to the one that I'd already recorded) and then did a version of Dr. Something's song "Schrodinger's Quarantine." I only got about half the lyrics wrong.
Saturday morning: I dubbed cassettes like crazy (on the dubbing deck I'd finally broken down and bought Friday morning at a pawnshop - I'd been hoping to find some super thrift/garage-sale score, but no luck - as you know, it's impossible to find the item you need the same day in the second-hand market, unless that item is a vampire novel or a Ray Conniff record. So I bought the fancy pro-audio tape deck from the pawnshop. It makes humming noises as I print the covers.
Saturday evening: head to Mississippi Pizza. Ah, old Mississippi Pizza, site of so many questionable and ill-attended shows in my earlier years. Dr. Something and I do a set of bad jokes and retrofit our songs so they fit with the story arc of subvillains in their Tualatin underground bunker, fighting bravely against the WES rail station that has mysteriously appeared in their bunker... Anyway, it involved reanimating mastodons. It was great.
I played the cassingle in my car. It sounded tinny and perfect. If you'd like a copy of the cassingle, let me know.