And I'm wasted and I can't find my way home in Normal entries

Yes. I have been listening to old Steve Winwood, why do you ask? The year is young and my entries paltry but two, now, have early Winwood titles. He was just a kid when he sang with the Spencer Davis group, created traffic, cut that legendary Blind Faith Album with Clapton and, I think, Ginger Baker.

One of upsides of how we listen to music these days is also a downside, I mean recorded music. I have three thumb drives in my rig that total a little over 100 gigs which is a level butt-ton of mp3’s, and the deck just plugs and plays a thumb drive. I haven’t burned a disc for personal use since I’ve been in Michigan. I burned a few some time last week for my little sister who was stuck with radio on her drive up from Nasheville. I made the discs extra eclectic.

Um, to tie those two paragraphs in, Steve Winwood came back up in rotation, sort of. I enjoyed the novelty of listening to Bob Marley while driving through the snow but then it got weird so I skipped the whole file folder. Sure, Buffalo Soilder and I shot the sherrif is fun to drive through the white stuff to, but when Jammin’, for instance, comes on you wanna strip down to Bermuda shorts and jump in the water.

Sure you can listen to stuff without having the associations sit too heavy on your shoulders, but sooner or later you have to buy the fiddler a dram. Hmmm, perhaps too arcane of a reference. It costs, some how and in some way you pay for not bending to the associations, typically by having them creep up on you all of a sudden and you find yourself crying in your beer and plugging the jukebox with break-up songs (are there still jukeboxs? I haven’t seen one in a while.).

And there’s also the tunes themselves. It doesn’t matter to me that I didn’t much care for most of the stuff Winwood did in his solo career; next to the solo on Yes’s Roundabout, the piano solo in Low Spark is the greatest piano in Rock history. How on earth did so many good songs get written for acid heads? Shoot the Beatles were only interesting when they were writing for acid heads. That’s just an opinion by the way, still …

Blind Faith was a cool side project and all three of those guys were already famous and still alive and shit and, well, it was a cool side project.

With the wind chill it’s been double digits below zero for almost a week. When I was a kid I once walked to school when it was so cold my hair froze. I mean dry hair; froze brittle and broke off, the wisps that were outside my hat. There was this drunk Canadian plumber that gave me a ride from Edmonton all the way to Anchorage. I told him that story and he told me he’d never worn a hat in his life and that’s why he had such a full head of hair at 45. That seemed impossibly old to me at the time, though it seemed pretty normal to be passing a bottle of crown royal back and forth at one AM in and old Chevy bouncing up and down the Canadian Rockies. Hmmm, might have been a bit North or West for the Rockies, but it sure as hell is a mountain range.

Ok, and I’m wasted and I can’t find my way home.