Hmmm...

I write like
Chuck Palahniuk

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

After trying this with a post I wrote a while back, I decided to try two or three more posts. The results of the different writing samples were: Vladimir Nabokov, Stephen King, and James Fenimore Cooper. Apparently, I have a split personality as a writer.

Bob Dylan at the Brady

Set List:


Gonna Change My Way of Thinking
The Man in Me
Beyond Here Lies Nothin'
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum
This Dream of You
Cold Irons Bound
Po' Boy
Honest With Me
I Feel A Change Comin' On
Highway 61 Revisted
Workingman Blues #2
Thunder on the Mountain
Ballad of a Thin Man



Encore:


Like a Rolling Stone
Jolene
All Along the Watchtower

A view of the "Old Lady on Brady" from Brady Street.

A view of the west side box office entrance from the car.

The marquee.

A single production bus on the west side, stage left. We watched the caterers load their vehicle here as we left after the concert.

Production buses on the east, about 5pm. By 7pm when the theater doors opened, they were gone.

We arrived early, parked the car in the Brady's small lot and walked to The Mexicali Border Cafe for a quick dinner before the concert. After eating, we walked the half block back to the Brady. The crowd had arrived, forming lines at both the east and west doors. To say the crowd was an eclectic mix of people is an understatement. The youngest fan, aged about eight, seemed just as excited as the oldest fan in the crowd. We saw another mother-daughter there. Just in front of us, a pair of sisters, we thought, and to our left a charming older couple who were seeing Dylan for a second time. We saw a tattooed, pierced, flamboyant couple aged around 25 in the center section enjoying the show just as much as the old-timers who were a little slow getting to their feet when the up-tempo tunes began. One young man with a head of curly hair and a pretty face clearly had his eye on our lovely daughter, though her mother's presence probably inhibited his approach.

The Brady Theater is a 1914 Western Classic Revival building with a spot on the National Register of Historic Places since 1979. It seats about 2,800 in an auditorium and balcony. The acoustics are magnificent, and there isn't a bad seat in the house. Our lovely daughter purchased tickets before sale to the general public began and our seats were quite good, one section from middle toward stage right about eight rows back and right on the aisle, just as the floor starts to rise. Whether we were standing or sitting, we had a great view of Dylan all evening.

We entered as soon as the doors opened, bought souvenirs (a sweatshirt, a t-shirt, a poster, and a keychain), and found our seats. For about 45 minutes, we watched the crowd and waited. As the auditorium filled, taped music played in the background. The stage was set and lit an ethereal blue. Right on time, the house lights went down, the stage lights darkened, and the announcer said, "...the poet laureate of rock-n-roll, the legendary Bob Dylan". As the music started, we stood, we clapped, and we yelled. The atmosphere was electric.

Dylan began strong, enthusiastic and energetic. During the set, the bulk of the audience stood, only sitting for perhaps two songs early on. Stage left on keyboards, he sang as only Dylan can, and if you weren't familiar with his lyrics, it might have been tough to identify the song. Every piece was restyled, almost unrecognizable, yet still somehow familiar. It is a testament to the man as a musician and a writer that regardless of the arrangement, the songs still impress.

The stage lights were cut between each song; the pauses were long enough to shift positions and instruments without time for anything else. Music rose, fell, and rose again in a satisfying, regular rhythm. Five musicians took the stage with Dylan, two on guitar, one on bass, one on percussion, and one on keyboards. Enough instruments for ten musicians graced the stage. Dylan sang, played keyboards and an electric harmonica (or perhaps just a miked harmonica) but never touched a guitar. The band was simply fantastic. And oh, did Dylan sing. Up front with just the harmonica and his famous throaty, scratchy voice, Dylan bobbed his head in that familiar way, smiled, danced and distinctly fed on the energy of the audience. I've often heard him described as a musician, not a performer, but I'd have to disagree. The man entranced the full-house audience without ever saying a word. When the lights when down after a spectacular Ballad of the Thin Man, I could have gone home happy.

The audience whooped, hollered, clapped and stomped to an empty, dark stage for a good five minutes. Grown men could be heard yelling "Bobby!" Someone beat the arm of a chair or a wooden column, producing a hollow, regular thump. When the band re-took the stage, the applause was deafening. Dylan introduced his band, thanked his friends in the audience, and tore into a completely unfamiliar, absolutely fabulous rendition of Like a Rolling Stone, moving seamlessly into Jolene, then racing into a fantastic All Along the Watchtower surely influenced by the Jimi Hendrix cover. The lights went down briefly, and when they came back up, Dylan stood center stage, all in black, flanked by his band in taupe suits and black shirts. After a moment, the house lights came up and the crowd went wild. Including our lovely daughter and me.

Picture notes: All of the shots here are by me except for the poster, which was lifted from the Brady Theater website. We have a shot of Dylan on stage, but it is in our lovely daughter's camera which remains, at this time, in Tulsa. Will share it later if it is any good. Cameras were not allowed inside the theater. Somehow, our little one made it inside concealed in a high-heeled cowboy boot. I'm not saying whose.

circa 1985

Nothing places a generation in time and space quite like popular culture. Coming of age among certain music, movies and art certainly plays a role in our development as young people, even if only to a small degree. With that in mind, I give you a snapshot of the year I graduated high school, 1985.

Best Picture
Out of Africa

Best Actor
William Hurt in Kiss of the Spider Woman

Best Actress
Geraldine Page in The Trip to Bountiful

Best Album
Phil Collins
No Jacket Required

Best Song, Billboard
Careless Whisper
Wham

Drama Emmy
Cagney and Lacey

Comedy Emmy
The Cosby Show

The following are awards that were assessed only by yours truly as a teenager:

Best Comedy
Real Genius

Best Romance
Better Off Dead

Best Sci Fi
Back to the Future

Best Teen Angst Picture
The Breakfast Club

1985 saw the birth of Guns N Roses, Pixies, Jane's Addiction, and Hootie and the Blowfish. We drank New Coke under protest and watched Live Aid. We watched Meg Tilly in the unlikely role of a Catholic nun. Angelica Huston and Kathleen Turner strutted through Prizzi's Honor, Jessica Lange sang Sweet Dreams, and Whoopi Goldberg bared her dramatic chops with amazing results in The Color Purple. Harrison Ford lived among the Amish, James Garner wooed Sally Field, and Robert Loggia appeared in what may possibly be one of my favorite films ever. There was a foreign film from France that year with the English title of Three Men and a Cradle. I think you know what came next. America, country of the remake.

That was the year that OJ married Nicole. The car company, Saturn, was founded, and Reagan began serving his second term. Nelson Mandela was still imprisoned, the FDA began screening blood donations for AIDS, Route 66 was officially decommissioned, and the wreck of the Titanic was discovered. Calvin and Hobbes debuted that year along with the Nintendo Entertainment System (stateside, anyway).

On my cassette deck in heavy rotation that year (many of the albums are pre-1985):

Prince, 1999, Purple Rain, and Around the World in a Day

Helix, Deep Cuts the Knife

Scorpions, Love at First Sting

Def Leppard, High and Dry and Pyromania

Van Halen, Van Halen, Diver Down, and 1984

Black Sabbath, Black Sabbath

Mötley Crüe, Shout at the Devil

Foreigner, 4, Rumours

Pat Benatar, Get Nervous

Bryan Adams, Reckless

Night Ranger, Dawn Patrol and Midnight Madness

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Long After Dark and Southern Accents

Loverboy, Get Lucky

Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall

John Lennon and she-who-will-not-be-named, Double Fantasy

Styx, Pieces of Eight, Cornerstone, most frequently, Paradise Theater, and Kilroy Was Here

Michael Jackson, Off the Wall and Thriller

Jean-Pierre Rampal, Telemann's Suite in A Minor

In 1985, it was still legal to purchase and drink 3.2 beer over the state line in Kansas. I wasn't a drinker, but I did buy beer for friends. Once. Then it occurred to me that I was breaking the law, even if they drank it in Kansas. Sometime that year, Kansas voted to raise the drinking age to 21. I don't remember exactly when it went into effect, though, as it was kind of a non event for me.


Last, but not least, I do have to admit to growing up in a redneck county. Being the daughter of a farmer and rancher, a member of the local 4-H club, and a regular on main street, I knew my share of cowboys, rodeo types, and outright rednecks. I learned to square dance and do the cotton-eyed joe while in high school. I can sing along to songs by Don Williams, Alabama, George Strait, The Oak Ridge Boys, and my personal favorite, Bocephus. I was still singing along in a countrified fashion in 1985. As I've said many times before, it is indeed possible to take the country out of the girl. As long as she wasn't too into country to begin with.

The picture was taken in the spring of 1985 by an amateur photographer friend of my parents in Tulsa's Woodward Park.

when all else fails

I am in a foul mood today.

I woke up that way, but it got consistently worse. Lovely daughter is driving my car to school and work until we decide what to do with her sad, wrecked vehicle. I went outside to evaluate said vehicle, started it up and drove it a bit. It smelled funny, like it was a little hot. I pulled into the driveway, popped the hood, and checked the antifreeze. Bone dry. So I thought I should probably check the oil. Two quarts low. Hubby is always prepared for the end of the world, confirmed pessimist that he is, so I went into the garage, picked up a bottle of antifreeze and two quarts of oil and went to work. Damn, I showed her how to do that at least twice, and asked her once a week if she'd done it. Sometimes I think that girl will be the death of me.

Back into the truck, off to Wal-Mart. I actually despise Wal-Mart, but I needed to replenish hubby's doomsday stash, pick up some OJ, a plant for my youngest boy's aquarium, and a couple of scatter rugs to save my back from the tile on my kitchen floor. Yes, I hate Wal-Mart, but where else can you do that in one trip?

Back from shopping, I unloaded the truck, let Jack out of his crate and put on some music. I selected one of my favorite play lists on my MP3 player and logged on to the computer to check in with you, lovely readers, my favorite bloggers. I've made the rounds, made a few comments, and voila, I am boucoup better.

What cheered me up:

Missing You by John Waite
Hurt by Johnny Cash
Open Arms by Journey
Beth by Kiss
The Road Between by Lisa Marie Presley
Love Don't Live Here Anymore by Madonna
I Want to Come Over by Melissa Etheridge
Torn by Natalie Imbruglia
Northern Sky By Nick Drake
How You Remind Me by Nickelback
Don't Speak by No Doubt
Champagne Supernova by Oasis
Is it a Crime? by Sade
When I'm with You by Sheriff
Redemption Day by Sheryl Crow
It's Been a While by Staind
Don't Stand So Close to Me by The Police
Free Fallin' by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Drops of Jupiter by Train
The Night the Lights Went Out In Georgia by Vicky Lawrence
A Horse with No Name by America
Maggie May by Rod Stewart
Me and Bobby McGee by Janis Joplin
Nothing Compares 2 U by Sinead O'Connor
Walk Away by Bree Sharp
China Girl by David Bowie
Bringing on the Heartbreak by Def Leppard
Jolene by Dolly Parton (although the White Stripes version would do)
Kissing a Fool by George Michael
Beautiful Boy by John Lennon
David Duchovny by Bree Sharp

I know every word of every verse of every song. These are songs I love. I put this list on when I am feeling blue and want to feel better. I am usually the kind of person who listens to whole albums, in order, but there are times when a list is just better. Today this list fit the bill.

A little eclectic, maybe a little boring, but it's one of my favorite playlists.

I thought it might be fun to see if anyone else has my taste. This is a tad obscure, but I have given you the name of the artist in my list. Do you know the song or the artist?

I stutter like a broken clutch
When you touch me too much
My tongue gets twisted in your twirl
You say I'm not your kinda girl
A spider underneath my skin
I want you out
I want you in
The venom and the vaccine swirl
You say I'm not your kinda girl

What kind of girl should I be?
The kind of girl who doesn't see
That you're lookin' at me
Like you wanna be seein' someone else
Somebody else

You rip the sureness from my stare
And throw the pieces in the air
Your fingers string me like a pearl
You say I'm not your kinda girl
It's not a secret anymore
What you keep me around for
And my excuses all unfurl
I'm not that kinda, kinda girl

What kind of girl should I be?
The kind of girl who doesn't see
That you're lookin' at me
Like you wanna be seein' someone else
Somebody else

See somebody else
See somebody else
See somebody else
See somebody else

I want you to see somebody
I want you to see somebody

I want you to see somebody else

dinner hour stand up

My youngest entertained us tonight. I love this age. The funniest part of the routine is the way he breaks into peals of uncontrollable laughter before delivering the punch line. There is nothing better than listening to the laughter of a very amused little child. We usually have to ask him to repeat it two or three times before we can hear the punch line through his laughter.

Some of tonight's jewels:

Why did Luke Skywalker scream? He didn't want pie. (He's 8. He was warming up. And he wrote this one himself.)

Knock knock. Who's there? Pile up. Pile up who? No you're not. Don't be so hard on yourself, buddy. (If you don't get it, say it out loud. This one actually made me laugh.)

What does Mr. Lightning wear under his clothes? Thunderpants.

Why did Tigger put his head in the toilet? He was looking for Pooh.

Who is Peter Pan's worst smelling friend? Stinkerbell. (He finds this one especially funny because it was our daughter's nickname when she was a little one. I'm not kidding.)

What nationality are you when you go to the bathroom? European.

And, his favorite joke of the night:

A woman walks into a pet store and says, "Can I get a puppy for my daughter?" "Sorry, lady, we don't do trades."

making friends

Inspired by a post and video of Laurie's, I took Jack to the local dog park on Wednesday morning just before lunch.

Jack is an only dog and hasn't spent much time with other dogs since he was just a six or eight week old pup. I decided we should venture to the park during a weekday morning after school started in the hope that we would be alone for his first visit. My plan was partially successful.

The local dog park is a nice one, with lovely large trees all around the edges and new ones planted here and there with benches tucked underneath. It is split into two areas, one for dogs under 30 pounds and one for dogs over 30 pounds. I parked the car in the parking lot of the neighboring people park and walked underneath a canopy of trees and across a lovely little bridge carrying Jack's wriggly 17 pounds under my arm. I thought we'd check out the small dog part first, so I opened the gate and we walked into a fenced area of longish lawn with a bench in one corner and a water spigot in the middle on a square of concrete, complete with dog bowls, poo bag dispensers and a trash can. Jack sniffed around and ran the perimeter of the fence before making a beeline for me. He sat on his haunches and looked up at me, ready to go. The small dog area is not very exciting.

We ambled into the large dog area with no one in sight. My car had been the only vehicle in the parking lot and I assumed we were alone. You know what happens when you assume . . .

The grass was much longer here, some of it almost as tall as Jack with most of it grazing his belly. After checking out the water faucet with much larger bowls, Jack ran to the nearest tree, nose to the ground. I'm sure he was smelling all of the dogs who had come here before him. I noticed a couple of nylon leashes hanging on the chain link fence, but didn't think much of them because we'd seen all kinds of dog paraphernalia left for visitors' use. Jack took off for the center of the park and I followed. The park is built on a gentle slope with its highest end at the entrance. At the back beyond the fence is a large pond that backs up to the walking paths in the people park. It's really a very pretty spot. As the pond came into view, I saw a man and a woman walking towards us from near the water. As they got closer, I saw the two dogs.

They were large dogs (compared to Jack, anyway), one black and one buff in color. Jack saw them and he was gone, running at top speed across the park in an intercept course. As he closed in, I think he realized that he was not only outnumbered but seriously outsized. As I watched he made an abrupt course correction, taking off for the fence. He was too late. They had seen him and quite quickly they were in pursuit.

I ran but there was no way I was going to catch him in time. The man ran for his dogs, yelling their names. I yelled for Jack. They all ignored us. Watching them run along the fence, I was quite impressed. Both dogs were twice Jack's size but he is very quick. When they would get close, Jack would lay on a bit of extra speed, like a sprinter at the end of the race he's just about to win. It was a beautiful sight, even though I couldn't quite enjoy it at the time.

Finally it occurred to me that I should give Jack a command and get him to come my way. I summoned my loudest voice from the bottom of my diaphragm, yelling, "Jack, come!" Much to my surprise, he barrelled toward me, floppy ears flying with his speed. He never slowed down, taking to the air at the last moment and flying up into my arms. He was wet even though it was midday, and I realized it wasn't dew but saliva. He had large tongue marks on the rear of his body where he'd almost been caught.

Turns out the other dogs were Chinese Shar-Peis, very handsome dogs. The other owner called to his dogs and walked toward me, laughing. At the time I did not find the situation amusing in the least. After comforting him, I sat Jack down at my feet, holding onto his collar, talking to the other owner. The dogs were all panting from effort and smelling of each other. The female was more aggressive, sniffing Jack and circling behind him. The male stayed in front just out of reach. I've never seen Jack so excited or so nervous. He kept turning to keep them both in front of him, but they kept moving, until Jack finally backed his rear end into me and sat on my foot.

Before it was over, Jack was playing, chest down, rear in the air, bouncing up and down and making friendly noises. After the other dogs left, Jack and I walked the rest of the park to let him calm down. I carried him to the car and he slept all the way home, exhausted from the experience. We went back today and Jack was so excited I could barely hold him as we went across the bridge. Next time, I'll have to take his leash for the walk in.

I do think he was a bit disappointed when we found the park deserted. Maybe his friends will be there the next time.

xash

Jason at The Clarity of Night tagged me. Lucky for me he explained what tagging is during the course of his post. Rules for the "Meme of 8":

1. Each player posts eight random facts about themselves.

2. People who are tagged write a blog about their eight facts or habits and post these rules.

3. Choose eight people to tag and at the end list their names.

4. Leave a comment telling them they've been tagged and to read your blog.

Xash things about me:

1. I play the flute and piccolo and started my college career as a flute performance major. My high school music program was tiny and the five hours of college music theory ate my lunch freshman year . . . so now I play for pleasure. On my ridiculously expensive sterling silver french cut flute.

2. Since turning 21, I have lived in Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Virgina and South Carolina. In that order. South Carolina was my favorite, but Oklahoma is home.

3. I love Charleston Chews. Since I was a kid. We used to freeze them, then knock them against the table and break them into bite sized pieces. Yum.

4. My upright freezer is full of beef and pork my daddy raised. I won't buy meat in a store.

5. I would rather read than watch television, listen to music or play sports.

6. My first vehicle was a 1977 dual-wheeled, red and white Chevy pick-up truck with trailer lights, a gooseneck hitch, chrome running boards and a chrome cow catcher. It had a bored out 454 in it that my daddy built himself. It was very fast. This is extremely funny if you know me. For those who don't, I'll just say that I now drive a VW Passat (with a stick, thank you very much), make sure I'm never more than five minutes away from a 7-Eleven and I no longer have a herd of cattle in my back yard.

7. When I was about 18 months old I pulled a skillet full of hot oil down my left side. Daddy put me into a sink full of ice and cold water to stop my skin from burning, but you can still see the scars on my left arm and on my left side over my rib cage. It was odd to go through life with a visible scar from an accident you cannot remember.

8. My father's family was started by a Quaker man from Bucks County, Pennsylvania, and a full blood Lenni-Lenape (Delaware) woman, whose name was Woo-le-noo-squay (good woman), when they married on a reservation in Kansas. That family's descendants have lived in the same county in Oklahoma since my great-great-great grandmother's tribe was moved from their reservation to Indian Territory and we still own the land granted to Woo-le-noo-squay.

It's funny what comes to mind when you think about what makes you who you are.

There are a few people I'd love to know eight things about (or more) that I probably don't know well enough to tag. This being what it is, feel free to respond or not, depending on your mood. I tag wifey, Dianne, and Aminah.