8-11 PM THIS SATURDAY, AUGUST 3rd, Charles Griffin will join me (the Crab) at the lovely and historical MARKET STREET CAFÉ in Charlestown, Maryland on the infamous Eastern Shore. Charles will play the (sea) Bass & guitar, and we’ll be accepting “rescue” zucchini. Market Street Caféhttps://www.marketstreetcafemd.com/ is easy to find—just south of Red Toad Road (no shit, I didn’t make that up).
After that, only 5 days until the Iggles open pre-season against Tennessee, and we get a first look at the rookies…
On Memorial Day, Teri Gross interviewed a father whose son was killed recently in Afghanistan. He spoke fondly of how his son had always cared for others; and then he said that he had dreamed about his son just before he died. In the dream, his son was dressed in his army uniform, speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear the words. Then, in the dream, his son became a child again and climbed into a glass coffin. Climbing out of the coffin, he became the soldier again, saluted his father, and then the phone…Read more
Sometime in the mists of the Ancient Eighties, I got a call from Roxanne Nelson, wife of my line coach and friend Lenny "Earthquake" Nelson. She'd acquired a small grant and wanted to PAY me (!) to write a song with her Kindergarten, for their study of the environment. Thus began my involvement with Delaware's wetlands and protection of same. We do have a treasure here, as you'll realize if you drive south on Rt. 9 for a while. It's still undeveloped tidelands, teeming with birds and other critters.
Just wrote a song called Chokoloskee, with the line:
Delaware’s okay by me/In the springtime and the fall
But new years to St Patricks/You can freeze yer fuckin’ balls
Do you think”fuckin’” is too crude? Should it be “fucking?” Or “feckin’, “ which is perfectly ok in Ireland.
In Chokoloskee: We lived next door to Annie/ Peter and their little dog
lizards watched you when you showered/ and the neighbor hunted frogs.
he picked his wife up in Siberia/Annie helped him to prepare
had to drive haflway to…Read more
May 5th I’ll be celebrating Cinco de Mayo at a fundraiser for the Delaware Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, trying to be carefree and not worry that the conjunction of Cinco de Mayo and the first day of Ramadan will upset the space-time continuum and drive my wife to embark on yet another two-week “get vibrantly healthy and stop worrying (about getting vibrantly healthy) plan.” Or that dang asteroid that’s buzzing around with our name on it. Or hemmorhoids.
I mean, fasting and Cinco de Mayo are poles of behavior…Read more
In Tahoe, winter was on the way, its deep-down heavy breath droning over the Sierras on the evening wind. Down below in Berkeley some summer still hung on, but in September Tahoe, a mile high, the air is thin and breathes of pine and ice. Take care, Pilgrim, and cut some wood.
We didn’t have a fireplace in Tahoe, which cost us; but then Frank would probably have burned the place down. The bills from our electric heat gagged us. Frank, Paul, Linda, and I crammed into a two-bedroom with one bath, a tiny…Read more
Yesterday I was honored to be the co-presenter of “Let’s Write Funny Songs” with noted comedy-songwriter CARLA ULBRICH. This was at a day of workshops presented by PASA at Terry Merriman’s gorgeous dwelling in the woods of Chester County, PA. Thanks Terry (and Rob)!
Carla had some great ideas to impart, and she led us in some improv exercises such as spontaneously and collectively creating limericks and rhymes.
Carl and I both had handouts. Mine was a page of tabloid headlines involving Bigfoot, George…Read more
Tonight, Janice and I will probably watch Roma. I watched about fifteen minutes when I was visiting a good friend in Fort Myers, but then got drawn into Occupied, another show recommended by my host Mike. Occupied is a Norwegian series about Russian aggression there, set in the near future, and mirrors our current situation in the US to an extent, the main difference being that in Norway the invasion is “boots on the ground,” and that Norway’s leader is a patriot, not a traitor.
My wife could never…Read more
WILLY AND LOBO AND THE MAN WHO RODE SHARKS*
It was my first trip to Florida’s Gulf Coast, and Mr. Cantwell was introducing me around. He’d booked Willie Royal and I for a night at the Crow’s Nest in Venice, down by the jetties where Roberts Bay flows, like a lazy oil spill, into the Gulf of Mexico.
Jay Cantwell recently gave up his agenting to play rock and roll: a consummation devoutly to be wished. Back in ’83, though, he had his greedy little fingers in everything (good quality in an agent!). He was…Read more
Our beach cottage sat between a picky woman with a small…Read more