Art and Cards

I would like to attend the beer brawl, the cocktail sip, the whist party, and the rent party where Fats Waller will be playing. 

Thank you for directing my attention to Ddavid Fullerton.  I will attempt to befriend him on flickr and stalk him mercilessly demanding more sketchy funny.  MORE SKETCHY FUNNY, DAMN YOU!  now dance for me! 

Thanks for noting old sketchbookery.  I feel like a sham(wow), having not laid pen to paper for nigh on many a month now.  I’m obsessing over rectifying that situation, however, and suspect that any minute I’ll get off my mattress of regret and actually take action.

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any minute I’ll get off my mattress of regret

I just changed the sheets on mine.

For the sake of complete disorganization and burying something deep in a thread of comments, I offer a link to some of the best music writing I’ve read in a while. It’s just one short piece, but it really gets to the heart of old dearly departed Michael Jackson. Plus, you can listen to I Want You Back, while you read.

Here’s a sample:

At the same time their immense commercial success keeps them present and current within culture, their essential unreality and inhuman inner perfection allow them to operate outside of time. They often seem less like actual songs and more like ideas that we’re all having at the same time. To hear them is to think, “Well, yeah—of course.”

And here is the article.

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I know that these are actually cards ANNOUNCING dances, but it also reminds me of dance cards, and my confusion about how, exactly, they worked.  Dusty recently said accusingly “I have never seen YOUR old dancecards!”  This said while watching…um Antiques Roadshow, maybe, where there was a displaying of the names on somebody’s dancecard?  OH WAIT!  It was something about masons and the revolutionary war and some woman who played a large unsung role in the founding and fomenting of the country and who was, apparently, beloved by Gen. George Washington, who boldly filled out EVERY SINGLE SLOT of her dance card at some event…..

Anyway, hi Nate! Apparently you and i can just sit next to each other on this thread and chat, all cozy-like.  Nobody else seems to want to come into the dance card room.

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Hey there, Dingey Sunshine. Those Masons apparently were excellent dancers, according this old copy of the Philadelphia Reasoner from the summer of 1781. Remember that summer? We got lost, trying to buy that lye. You said, “It’s a bargain. It’s a half-cake for a half-penney.” I think I still have that silver tooth you found in the woods where all those Hessians hid out, while things blew over.

Was thinking last night about what motivates people to get off the couch and make something. Said out loud to Angie, I’d pay Amy ten dollars for a drawing of Baby Crystal Gale. After further discussion we both realized that money does not motivate, competition does.

So, in the spirit of that spirit of spirited competition, I give you my version of Baby Crystal Gale.

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I was helping my dad move some furniture today, and he was excited that the peacocks were running across the yard with some wild turkeys. (Apparently, they are distantly related. Also, my dad’s theory is that these were female turkeys, so essentially they were hitting on their cousins. But this detracts from my vision, so try to ignore these thoughts).

Anyway, if I were skilled at capturing images, I would have made an inspirational poster, featuring the hilarious fowl combination, and it would be captioned, “Don’t let the turkeys keep you down.” It would only be funny to me, my dad, anyone who stays near long enough to listen to this rambling explanation, which is pretty much the definition of not funny. But hey, you’re the one who kept reading.

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it is very funny, that horrible peafowl miscegenation and the story of hessian lye and pretty much anything else. 

Jesus.  baby crystal gayle?  really?  Give me a bit of time…….

brown eyes blue

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The Nashville Babies, with Baby Crystal Gale, Baby Hank Jr., Lil’ Kristofferson, Baby Dolly, Scamp Kenny Rogers…

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“scamp”…..

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Baby Crystal Gayle.  Her hair’s so long maw maw just carries her ‘round by it.

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