|A painting on the wall at Club J:|
Mr. Jalapeño himself
(More of the story can be found here, where I incidentally learned that when Desmond died he left the performance royalties for his compositions to the American Red Cross, which continues to receive about $100,000 a year from this gift. And still more can be heard in an NPR story.)
On the way home, we stopped at Safeway where I was astonished to find whoopie cushions for sale (how could I never have noticed?) and a kitschy array of pop-culture Band-Aids, though none featuring insects (we still have two left from an old package, and I guess I will be forced to never use them now . . .) or—this a memory from childhood—planets, stars, and spaceships. Sadly. Maybe the drugstore has a wider selection? I will have to go check.
Almost finally: while we were waiting to check out the Muzak came up with Yael Naim's "New Soul," which we proceeded to dance to (just a little bit: we were in line, after all). It's such a catchy tune.
And I will end with this, which came about because, yeah, stinking Facebook, which I of course checked the instant I stepped in my door. But oh, wonderful Facebook: I get turned on to so much good stuff. So much hopeful, uplifting, funny, educational stuff (in addition to the stupid politics, oh, begone, 45—please . . . soonest). I checked Facebook and there was Craig Childs saying, "Introducing Paul Simon to the boys this evening, the younger and I dancing in the kitchen in golden light. I'm wondering why it took so long." People in the comments posted links to songs. Including this one. Which: so wonderful. Simon and Garfunkel; David Bowie. National treasures.
And here's a YouTube version just because it's easy to click on a right-facing arrow.
So I'll end with that for this rather random post for today. An hour in the life . . . (And yes, my life does seem to involve a lot of parenthetical asides and discontinuities, so this post is formally entirely consistent.)