i was so desperate to escape college that i joined the marine corps to go to flight school in 1964.
if i'd had one single lucid moment, i might have, instead of joining the marine corps, moved to someplace where i might have been able to play with people i could have learned from...
then comes the hard part... what obligation do you have to play to entertain people?
is playing itself enough to please whatever it is that gives the impulse to play in the first place?
i was on a fire contract in tennessee, and there are so many good players out in the sticks there that apparently have no ambition at all about their music.
maybe the music is the end... maybe that's all you need to do... maybe you dont need recordings or television or anything.
i should have said, "i've watched it, and i wont watch it again. it seems to be commercialization of something that, in any decent society, would not be commercialized."
that's probably why i cant watch or listen to the chicks' "travelin' soldier" anymore.
i should have said, "i've watched it, and i wont watch it again. it seems to be commercialization of something that, in any decent society, would not be commercialized."
that's probably why i cant watch or listen to the chicks' "travelin' soldier" anymore.
Not exactly sure what you mean by commercialized.
If song, or any other product or service, is widely liked, bought, and supported by the public, what's wrong with that?
Isn't that what we're (supposed) to be about?
If you recorded, and sold a world-wide hit, what would be wrong with that?
With the exception of Whites, the rule among the peoples of the world, whether residing in their homelands or settled in Western democracies, is ethnocentrism and moral particularism: they stick together and good means what is good for their ethnic group." -Alex Kurtagic
well, there's a superior intelligence at work in that video....
i'm like a caveman that's just figured out how to scratch a hole in the ground and plant a bean, stumbling onto an airconditioned tractor and an eight-bottom plow.
i knew better, the road was too narrow to turn around, but i tried anyhow, and the front wheels of the van wound up in the ditch... i thought i could probably back out of it, but the van kept going, slowly, and dislodged a log from the retaining wall in front of the house where the store was.
the woman said, "get those surveyors' stakes and put tape up around the scene." and we did that... she moved the store to its winter quarters in the mall and did a land-office business.
the group session was a failure, the shrink disgraced, and the group left and scattered in relief, except she stayed with me... i told her to take her mask off, a boutique thing, custom designed in red, white and blue, over her forehead and eyes, expensive....she peeled it off and started crying, and said, "i'm not wrecked! ...i want you, stephen!" as if that proved something, and my heart sank.
the storekeeper said, "it's good fishing in that riffle below johnoson's hole."
there's a celtic tune called "road to lisdoonvarna"... i cant find a decent version of it.
it's a powerful tune when it's not being played by college pansies in suits, and you got to wonder why it's being ignored... probably one of those "jews vs druids" things.
at least the druids have had enough sense to hide out until the oily dust settles.