twaaangg!!

You know, Real Butter felt to me like more of the BDM "concept" album, and I still like it a lot for the sonic slap-in-the-head that all
the record scratches and low-res noise make. ... but Creeping Banana
turned out to be more rhythmic and listenable, and more apt for repeat
play and enjoyment.

Now, Blood Sausage, here -- from one end to the other, has an ass-kicking
lift to it. It's practically a rock album.

Of course, I'm trying hard to haul it back towards the tweaky processed realm that I like to hear, in every possible spot, but this album is assembling itself much more easily than all the others. You can also tell we've all gotten a lot better at playing (with the eternal exception of the trumpet, for authenticity reasons heh heh).

Public thanks to my fellow "band" members. This is a lot of fun.

hard day

My kitty died today.
She's buried under the statue in the back yard.

A few days back I came out to her little kitty-bed in the living room, and laid down so my head was resting lightly over her body. She was able to purr for me, weakly. I petted her and spoke to her and tried to make my peace. I knew this day was coming, and soon.

She taught me all about cats; how to reach them, how to enjoy them. I used to nap in the grass behind my house in the woods, and she would come stalking through the tall grass, and sit casually on the center of my chest. A lithe white siamese cross, proud and vocal, and one hell of a fighter for her size.

In my cuddling affection, if my movements strike you as catlike, don't be surprised. I learned them from a cat.