Lemon-Scented Bivouac  


Fatherly and, eventually, teacherly blather. Also: graphic design, baseball, synthetic fabrics, jug band music and, lord help us, the occasional politics.


Saturday, August 23, 2003  

 

Elliott's song list
So I have one of these:

and a banjo on loan from our friend the Professor. On these I play the following songs for my sonny boy (the ones he never enjoyed, e.g., "El Condor Pasa," have been weeded from my list):

  • "Singing in the Bathtub," R. Crumb and His Cheap Suit Serenaders (apparently originally a Gracie Fields number, but this is how I know it);
  • "Settin' the Woods on Fire," Hank Williams;
  • "Roly Poly," Bob Nolan (every Western swing band did this one; chorus: "Roly-Poly, daddy's little fatty/guess he's gonna be a man some day")
  • "Make My Cot Where the Cot-Cot-Cotton Grows," Red Nichols' Stompers;
  • "Over the Mountain," "Uncle" Dave Macon (pictured above, middle);
  • "That's Where I Meet My Gal," Hoosier Hot Shots (also, sometimes, "I Like Bananas Because They Have No Bones," ibid);
  • "Tonight You Belong To Me," better known as the song Steve Martin and Bernadette Peters sing on the beach in The Jerk;
  • "Sweet Sue," by many singers of "Sweet Sue" (just you);
  • "Beaver Creek," Patsy Montana and the Prairie Ramblers;
  • "Sleepy-Eyed John," Ole Rasmussen and His Nebraska Cornhusker;'


and usually all finished off with:
  • "Pedal Your Blues Away," Earl Rouse and Brothers.


Also various stomps and whistles and improvs, none of them terribly notable yet. I have many more to learn.

Just so you know. Suggestions for an expanded playlist are very welcome. All songs will be tested on Babylips himself.


  posted by Andy @ 7:06 PM §


Wednesday, August 20, 2003  

 
But I can't stop there. Oh no. (Yes, I know the posts read from the bottom up, so it's as if I'm continuing a thought that hasn't happened yet. Please read upsidedown chronologically, thanks.) I also wanted to explain why I've been on hiatus without resorting to talking about summer classes and Dear Baby. Turns out, see, that posting Every Stinking Day seems to involved being born with either an interesting persona or the kind of will that can lead to creating an interesting persona.

Mr. Monkeydisaster, for instance, has a really funny persona and blurts things that are funnier than the products of my hardest work. Mrs. Kennedy (hi Mrs. Kennedy) has an earthy still-slightly-punk no-bullshit-mother sort of view. Hell -- this guy even made a Flash intro of himself and it's actually funny. He sat up for many hours animating himself in a self-deprecating way!

You get the idea. I've greatly preferred in my own life to not consider what my own personality might be, and have grown content (if not to say bovine) in my belief that I hardly have one.

But it's strange. I started out wanting to post random clips on education as they came up so I'd have them in one place, and maybe within, say, seven years I'd find that 1.23 other people found them of marginal interest. Then Mr. Baby came and I made this place a photo album.

But then Google found me and the actor's nightmare set in. Well, be fair -- more like the actor's annoyance; it's hard to get a genuine nightmare out of blogging. But there I was in Seattle Weblogs! Then I imagined a questionnaire that asked of what general interest I was and I preferred to leave that particular questionnaire unfilled thanks.

So I'll just go back to posts of interest to friends, family and the very occasional visitor who bounced off a search-engine typo. For instance, baby pictures. And have I mentioned that everyone with the stomach for it should read Please Kill Me? 9 out of 10 dads recommend it.

  posted by Andy @ 9:23 PM §



 
I had halfway intended to mark my return to the bloglife by linking to an article in Harper's explaining that compulsory public schooling is, like, a way of keeping the working classes from organizing, man, and should be overthrown -- but then found that the working classes at Harper's are too oppressed to be able to put their articles on the web.

So then I tried to find some kind of sound clip from The Young Ones, with Rick shouting something about fascists and the like, but no linkable sound clips are to be found. So now I have to content myself with mentioning that D and I have not only watched all The Young Ones recently but bought the DVD set.

Such is my life. On the other hand, there is the life of Mr. Baby:

Eyeing the horses at the track:


Popping out of a giant colon:


And, nearly all of the time, jamming his hands in his mouth:


  posted by Andy @ 9:02 PM §

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