Old Man Take A Look At My Life, I'm a Lot Like You Were
Well, a bed was available for my Dad and so we molly-coddled him to it and tried to make light of the seriousness of the situation. Like you do. My Mother is frightened half to death by recent events and, I must admit, images of her in widow's weeds keep leaping, unbidden, into my mind's eye. But, fuck it. Let's be positive. He's finally had the operation this morning (after a long and lonely sleepless night), and he seems more relaxed. Chances are he'll be out by weekend so here's hoping. Just the biopsy to get over.The new wheels I'm acquiring this weekend come equipped with the last century's technology. I'm talkin' magnetic tape here. Magnetic tape! What kind of a medium's that? Winding forward, winding back. Instant access? My arse.
I'm quite looking forward to it actually. D'you remember when you would listen to an LP/cassette all the way through. Good tracks and bad? It was all part of the listening and lovin' process. There was a balance. On every Abbey Road there was an Octopus' Garden and an I Want You (She's So Heavy). On every White Album a Revolution 9.
Furthermore, as I sit here in my eyrie, I find myself surrounded by 20 years of intense home-taping action. There must be at least 300 tapes squatting on the functional shelving of Occupied Country's room. So, out you come Randy Newman, Planxty, The Blues Band, Nic Jones and many, many, many compilation tapes.
I guess it was me who 'killed music' with all my home-taping.
Today was the hottest day this year. Too friggin' hot in my opinion. Especially when you're running here, there and everywhere ferrying folk to and from hospital/girlfriends/work.
More of the same tomorrow I guess....
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