Saturday, May 18, 2013

Jimmy ThePeach: Breakfast In Bed

Jimmy ThePeach: Breakfast In Bed: Ah, Scotty and Lorna . This is a classic toasting . I remember listening to this song over and over the first time I heard it. Loud, th...

Friday, May 17, 2013

Breakfast In Bed

Ah, Scotty and Lorna. This is a classic toasting. I remember listening to this song over and over the first time I heard it. Loud, through great big speakers. Good God!
“Ahy!” Scotty squeals and away we go with Scotty skankin’ and rankin’ and hootin’ and a shootin’ lines.
“Now good God, do it to me Lorna.”
Lorna starts singing, “You’ve been cryin’.”
“One time,” Sotty slips in.
“Your face is a mess.” Lorna finishes the line.
And the back and forth continues, her sweet melodies calling and his smooth, sly replies.
“Good God. Weaywheeeeeee!” Scotty screams. “What ya cookin' for me garl, Arkansas fish?”
“Breakfast in bed,” sings Lorna. “You don’t have to say you love me.”
“Uhuh, you don’t have to say you love me.” Scotty says. “And what I want you to do is to rock it to me, you got to shock it to me. Yeah!!!”
Then all of a sudden, Scotty stops the band.
“ Whuuhhhh????
Cut! Cut! Cut, cut! Tell me somethin'. whadda ya’ll doin' in the studio?"
A quiet voice replies, "I used to live in the restroom, suh."
“Tell me somethin’,” Scotty says. “What da ya cum why don’t light ting-tings up up? You can’t play a bass. You can’t play a drum.”
“No suh,” the man says.
“Eh?” Scotty pauses… How ‘bout, how ‘bout, tell me somethin’. You can play argan, eh?”
“No, indeed I cannot suh.”
“What the! So you can…”
And right here Scotty starts yelling, “Leave the studio man. Yea understand. Leave the studio. I don’t want you inside here.”
Then without losing a beat Scotty says, “Watch out. Riddim, come farward.”
And it did.

And it does…


Thursday, May 09, 2013

The Strand

maybe it is time
to write something
besides haiku

haiku mirrors the rhythm
of my slowest breath…

it is the poetry of now
and the remembrance of now,
the reflection of no-shadows thrown
on a noh-journey in
this noh-home I call home.

I awaken writing,
my transition from sleepful dreaminess
to dreaming wakefulness
is a cutting place,
a kireji,
a fulcrum balancing the juxtaposition
of everywhen with everynow
of everywhere with everyhere.

I will ever say,
writing on the sand
of the strand between…