One (or Two) For the Road

Silver Fox has a post up about road songs:

So one day, I’m in the passenger seat of some other geo’s truck, being driven from place to place through thick trees and over rutted and roily dirt roads somewhere in central Idaho, in search of particularly fascinating outcrops — any outcrops would do, given the number of trees and lack of visibility — and JS, the geo-type whose projects I was visiting, pulled two of his newly made road tapes out of the glove box. The tapes, filled with road songs, were meant to be played while on the road, any road. Brainstorming while we listened, all the while watching for outcrops, we came up with a million more road songs, and a rather loose definition.

A road song must contain a word pertaining to roads — road, highway, freeway, byway, street, interstate — or it can instead contain words pertaining to cars, trucks, semis, and railroads or railway cars. Travel songs without mentioning the roads or railroads or the vehicles don’t count, and airplane or boat songs are generally out. Exceptions to these rules may exist, but I can’t think of any.

And it occurs to me, there’s a perfect road song she may never have heard:

See? It’s even got the word “interstate” right there in the title.

And there’s a second song that doesn’t quite qualify as a road song, but it’s about being a long way from home, and it’s wonderful, and so it shall be included here:

Silver, my dear, if you enjoyed those, and wish for just a little bit more, let me know, and a CD shall be on its way to you directly.  The Peacemakers have plenty more where that came from.

Lyrics below the fold.

Lyrics for “Interstate”:

Well, the fact of the matter
There ain’t no facts involved
Take it further
It doesn’t matter
Well out here on the border
Ants drag bones across the hot dry ground
and over there at the trailer park
They got a million souls at the lost and found

Well you should have known better
Dead thoughts and lost horizons
And to take it further
It don’t get any better
Well out here on the border
Ain’t nobody asking questions
No I don’t need a miracle
But I could use a push in the right direction

Handgun and a bottle of Boone’s
and a “69” Ford and a new pair of shoes
Left from Boise Idaho ’95
When they crossed the state line
They were just in time to fall
Asleep at the wheel

Last fact of the matter
Never was no facts involved
And to take it further
It never really matters
Well out here on the border
Ants drag bones across the hot dry ground
and over there at the trailer park
They got a million souls at the lost and found

Handgun and a bottle of Boone’s
And a “69” Ford and a new pair of shoes
Left from Boise Idaho ’95
So I was just in time to miss
the Five O’Clock news
The velvet black Interstate was something to feel
Spent $5.99 on a stone cold meal
Another bottle of wine
I was feelin’ just fine
And when i crossed the state line
I was just in time
To fall asleep at the wheel

Handgun and a bottle of Boone’s
And a “69” Ford and a new pair of shoes
Left from Boise Idaho ’95
So I was just in time to miss
the Five O’Clock news
The velvet black Interstate was something to feel
Spent $5.99 on a stone cold meal
Another bottle of wine
I was feelin’ just fine
And when i crossed the state line
I was just in time To fall–

Handgun and a bottle of Boone’s
And a “69” Ford and a new pair of shoes
Left from Boise Idaho ’95
So I was just in time to miss
the Five O’Clock news
The velvet black Interstate was something to feel
Spent $5.99 on a stone cold meal
Another bottle of wine
I was feelin’ just fine
And when i crossed the state line
I was just in time To fall
asleep at the wheeeel …

Lyrics for “Mekong“:

Barkeep
Another Mekong please
Yes of course,
you can keep the change

A new glass here
for this new friend of mine
Forgive me, I forgot your name
Flip a coin
What shall we talk about
Heads I tell the truth
and tails I lie

Well I came all the way
From Taipei today
Now Bangkok’s pouring rain
and I’m going blind again
And I haven’t seen my girl
for fifteen thousand miles

But is it true
It’s always happy hour here
and if it is I’d
like to stay a while
Well as cliche as it may sound
I’d like to raise another round
And if your bottle’s empty
Help yourself to mine
Thank you for your time
And here’s to life

Barkeep
We need to go around again
One for me and what’s his name
My new best friend
Deal me in and I’ll
pick my cards up off the floor
I’ll see a lucky coin
And raise a pack of lies

Smile to the girl at the door
Another 4 dollar whore
But don’t look her in the eyes
She’ll break your heart

We came all the way
From Taipei today
Still Bangkok’s pissin’ rain
and we’re going blind again
And I haven’t seen my girl
in fifteen thousand miles

Well is it true
It’s always happy hour here
And if it is I’d
like to stay a while
Well as cliche as it may sound
I’d like to raise another round
And if your bottle’s empty
Help yourself to mine
Thank you for your time
And here’s to life

Well is it true
It’s always happy hour here
And if it is I’d
like to stay a while
Well as cliche as it may sound
I’d like to raise another round
And if your bottle’s empty
Help yourself to mine
Thank you for your time

Well as cliche as it may sound
I’d like to raise another round
And if your bottle’s empty
Help yourself to mine
Thank you for your time

And here’s to life
Here’s to life
Here’s to life
Here’s to life
Again

One (or Two) For the Road
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Stuff Comes from Somewhere

Back before I distracted by the shiny new car and purchasing of same, our own George W. had a post up that really forced some thinking.  And it’s all because he was up at 4 in the morning thinking about bolts:

Where’s the nickel (which plates the bolt) mined? What’s the state of mine-safety technology? Do mining companies pay lobbyists to keep the laws lax? Or more likely, does the manufacturer just buy the nickel salts for plating from some third-world country where the government doesn’t protect the workers or the rivers or the children who live along them? Is that why the bolts are so cheap? What’s the external cost of the carbon output from manufacturing the bolt? Maybe that’s the reason I saved the bolt that was left over from a project of years ago.  Or maybe I’m just really cheap.

Read the whole post.  It’ll make you think about bolts, politics, change and resources all in one go, which is damned impressive for a short post brought on by insomnia.  This is why I love George’s blog so: when I leave there, it’s not with the same eyes as when I arrived.

Stuff Comes from Somewhere

Geological Humor. Plus, Choices.

Woozle has been a cherished patron of this cantina since very nearly the moment it opened.  Whilst I was away viewing non-flaming geysers, he left this note:

…and on a completely different tack, some geological humor for you

I clicked the link.  I viewed link.  I read the link.  A giggle grew to a guffaw, and then an outburst of laughter that left the cat rather disgruntled.  I would have screamed, “I love you, Woozle!” but the neighbors might’ve objected, seeing as how it’s after midnight.

My darlings, you must go read



There’s more.  There’s far more.  And yes, it does get exciting.

As if Woozle wasn’t enough, Karen made me blush, shuffle my feet, mumble “aw, shucks,” and want to give her a hug fit to crack her ribs.  Mind you, this was after I’d jumped up and down screaming “She’s alllliiiivvvveee!”  Worried about my Bay-area readers after that whole San Bruno thing, y’know.

Now, since I was off chasing after mythical flaming geysers all day, I didn’t visit so much as one political blog, therefore no Dumbfuckery du Jour.  However, when I got to my intrepid companion’s house, I found he’d taken care of the situation for us.  Let’s just say that, although I’d nearly gotten squished by a couple of idiot drivers on the freeway and had just discovered my camera was safely home over thirty miles away, I still ended up laughing my ass off.  Cujo does an excellent job trivializing the trivial, so consider his post our Dumbfuckery du Jour.

And, finally, I missed #womeninscience.  Whoops!  Allow me to make some amends by pointing you to Anne’s post at Highly Allochthonous, and this old post o’ mine celebrating some unsung women of science.

So, raise a glass to all the wonderful women in science, and then raise another to yourselves.  You all make my day, each and every day. 

Geological Humor. Plus, Choices.

Attention, Writers: Help a Pregnant Lady Out by Yammering About Writing

My dear heart sister NP is expecting her first bebbe roundabout August. Q: How much blogging can a new mother do? A: Bugger-all. So she’s seeking a few good writers to help out:

That said, I’d like to appeal to you, my dear coffee-stained readers, and ask if any of you would like to step in and post a few guest posts for while I’m preoccupied cuddling my precious little Bean. Dana of En Tequila Es Verdad already has access as a co-blogger, so I’m sure you’ll be able to enjoy at least one tequila-stained post from her over the course of my absence, but surely there are others of you who have contemplated writing about writing? Or about your faith? Or coffee, for that matter?
Well, this is your opportunity to chime in!
Not only will you get the chance to share your thoughts here, but you’ll get great linkage to your own blog/site, which is always good. Cross-promotion is fun, isn’t it?

If you’re interested, please let me know. Even if you’re not sure exactly what you’d write, but you know you’d like to participate, let me know. Over the next few weeks I’ll be collecting posts from readers and will schedule them to go up on my blog.

I’ll be doing my duty. This is my heart-sister we’re talking about. She shouldn’t have to worry about blogging on top of caring for my new nephew. But I can’t shoulder the load by myself, not with a cantina to run. So, you writers in the audience, here’s your chance to babble about writing, the universe, and everything (which, of course, is writing, right?).

Blocked? No need to be. NP’s got plenty o’ topics for ye:

  • Do you “write what you know”? If not, what do you write? Regardless of whether you write what you know or not, how much research do you do in a given writing week?

  • If you have or will have a digital reader, will you still peruse brick-and-mortar bookshops? Will you still relish the weight of a book on your lap, or the smell of ink and paper when you open your favorite paperback for the thousandth time?

That’s the random stuff. There’s the crafty stuff – talk about your genre, your take on POV, myth and metaphor, adjectives and adverbs, or whatever else strikes your fancy. Post a poem, or an excerpt. Tell us about your favorite characters. If you’re a blogger, talk blog. Give the advice you wish you’d had to newly-minted scribblers. Talk about your life as a writer.

Italic

This is your prime opportunity to yammer about writing (or faith, or coffee) to a willing audience for once. Don’t let this opportunity pass you by!

I surely don’t plan to. Come join me for some coffee-stained writing, and do a new mother a kindness to boot.

(Postdated for stragglers)

Attention, Writers: Help a Pregnant Lady Out by Yammering About Writing

¡Se echó un pedo!


Things I’ve learned about abdominal surgery this week: no fart, no food. It’s not often you see a collection of commenters rooting for farts. But there we all were, holding our breaths not from self-preservation, but from anticipation.

And on the seventh day, George farted.

With that, he’s on his way to solid food and a more enjoyable recovery. Congratulations, George! Good to see ye getting better!

¡Se echó un pedo!

Get Well Wishes for George


Elitist Bastard extraordinaire and friend of the cantina George W. just had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad birthday. Last thing you expect is to end up in the hospital.

Kudos to Mrs. DoF for getting him to the ER, the doctors and nurses who are getting him better, and all the lovely science that made it possible.

We’ll keep your chair empty and your glass full until you’re ready to belly up to the bar again, mi amigo. Let us know if you need anything in the meantime.

Get Well Wishes for George