Sunday Songs to Spark the Spirit and Summon the Mood of the Dance

I am a man of constant sorrow! I’m talking all day, all night, constant sorrow all the time, constantly. Now if this song doesn’t make your toes tap and your bootie wiggle even a little bit, then you, my friend, are sad, and sorrowfully so.

#whitepeoplelol


Sunday Songs to Spark the Spirit and Summon the Spirit of the Dance

Lately, ever since the earthquake succeeding, apocalyptic-inducing solar eclipse in fact, it has been nothing but blustery low-pressure days of rain and wind and dark gloomy clouds in my secluded hilly hood down in Southern Pennsyltucky.

Well, we all know how those old saws go – In like a lion and out like a lamb, and April showers bring May mosquitos, or something to that effect, so it is all to be expected, climate change notwithstanding.

But today is beautiful and warm and full of promise and Vitamin D.

Just imagine, after traveling 93,000,000 miles (149,668,992 km for those of you not of the Imperial mindset) or so, those sun’s rays are still so warm and toasty and lovely to the touch.

Time to go out and touch a few of ’em all while shaking our money makers to Mr. Johnny Nash’s greatest hit…

It’s gonna be a bright, bright, sunshiny day…

As a tribute to celebrate our worship of the sun, free books.

Get ’em while they’re hot!

#sunscreenwedontneednostinkingsunscreen
#unlessyourepastywhitelikeyourstruly

Stephen King has words…

A lot of them.

Usually that’s okay because he is such a great storyteller, one, I believe, who (whom?) deserves to be appreciated literarily well beyond the horror genre. Few can convey the human condition, its perils, its pleasures, as well as he.

But, to me, his overzealous output of words is always a fine line issue because, even though I usually finish any novel of his that I attempt to read/listen to, the ones that I don’t finish are always because I become overwhelmed by what to me seems an abusive overwriting of character and plot asides, a la…


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Even four years after the sudden death of his wife, best selling novelist Mike Noonan can’t stop grieving, nor can he return to his writing. Now his nights are plagued by vivid nightmares of the house by the lake. Despite these dreams, or perhaps because of them, he decides to return to Sara Laughs, the Noonans’ isolated summer home. In his beloved Yankee town, he finds himself falling in love with a widowed young mother, who struggles to keep custody of her 3-year-old daughter. He is also drawn into the mystery of Sara Laughs, now the site of ghostly visitations, ever-escalating nightmares, and the sudden recovery of his writing ability. What are the forces that have been unleashed here – and what do they want of Mike Noonan?

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Bag of Bones is a perfect example of this. Weighing in at a hefty 752 pages it is immensely overwritten in my blurry view. However, the story is limber and sinewy enough that I was able to make it through to the final round.

I know, I know, enough of the boxing metaphor. I get it.

Another example of an overwrought novel of his, you ask?

Well, funny you should ask because I just finished fighting my way through one…


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A terrible accident takes Edgar Freemantle’s right arm and scrambles his memory and his mind, leaving him with little but rage as he begins the ordeal of rehabilitation. When his marriage suddenly ends, Edgar begins to wish he hadn’t survived his injuries. He wants out. His psychologist suggests a new life distant from the Twin Cities, along with something else:

“Edgar, does anything make you happy?”
“I used to sketch.”
“Take it up again. You need hedges…hedges against the night.”

Edgar leaves for Duma Key, an eerily undeveloped splinter of the Florida coast. The sun setting into the Gulf of Mexico calls out to him, and Edgar draws. Once he meets Elizabeth Eastlake, a sick old woman with roots tangled deep in Duma Key, Edgar begins to paint, sometimes feverishly; many of his paintings have a power that cannot be controlled. When Elizabeth’s past unfolds and the ghosts of her childhood begin to appear, the damage of which they are capable is truly devastating.

The tenacity of love, the perils of creativity, the mysteries of memory, and the nature of the supernatural: Stephen King gives us a novel as fascinating as it is gripping and terrifying.

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Duma Key maintains the unbelievable fighting weight (sorry, I can’t seem to shake the blasted metaphor) of 783 pages! Strangely enough though, it doesn’t seem quite as flabby as BoB.

Now, as one would assume, these books are for all intents and purposes horror novels; ergo, I listened to them instead of reading them, for, to me, horror is served best via the ear versus the eyes. You know, ghost stories around the campfire vibe and all that.

One of the best attributes of BoB as an audiobook is that the King himself reads it. He’s a fantastic narrator, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all having to read all the extraneous words he wrote.

Duma Key is narrated exquisitely by none other than John Slattery. The only problem with him as narrator is I could never get Roger Sterling out of my head while listening.

And if you don’t know who Roger Sterling is, then take a lap!

In fact, take two!


Seeing that it’s Sunday, Palm Sunday no less, and we haven’t had a Sunday Song to Spark the Spirit and Summon the Mood of the Dance in quite a long while, why not have the King himself get us groovin’, eh?

Sunday Songs to Spark the Spirit and Summon the Moves of the Dance

I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but there is some mysterious illness affecting dogs that is spreading fast throughout the U.S….

A mysterious and potentially fatal respiratory illness in dogs has been reported in several states across the country, as veterinarians continue to search for what may be causing the condition that has killed some dogs.

The illness starts out as a cough that can last for several weeks, but it may not respond to typical treatment, such as antibiotics, which can leave the dog struggling to breathe and with severe pneumonia.

A potentially fatal mystery illness in dogs is spreading in the US. It starts with a cough, Yahoo News, November 17, 2023

Now, anyone who knows me knows how much my boys mean to me…

So in honor of my boys, and all of (hu)mans’ best friends all over the globe, and in hope that they all stay healthy and happy…

Let’s dance!

Okay, this perhaps isn’t the most dance-friendly song – I could have gone with Elvis’ “Hound Dog” (courtesy of Big Mama Thorton) or Baha Men’s “Who Let the Dogs Out” …

But “Old Blue” was a favorite of my children’s, and mine, when they were growing up. There are many versions of it, The Byrds’, Joan Baez’, and Willie Nelson’s just to name a few, but Disney’s version is my favorite since it has so many happy memories attached to it.

#prayforthedoggies

Sunday Songs to Spark the Spirit and Summon the Moves of the Dance

You probably know that Steve Earle is a world-renowned folk/country/crossover singer-songwriter…

And maybe you know that he is also an actor, having appeared on The Wire, Treme, and other productions, his characters mostly mirroring his life as a musician, as in Treme, or as a recovering heroin addict, as in The Wire.

But did you know he is also an author?

And a damn fine one at that?

Yeah…

Dude’s def got it going on, I must say. Obviously, I’m a big fan.

His book I’ll Never Get Out of this World Alive is named after a Hank William’s song. I listened to the audiobook version, of which Earle performed. It’s great. The main character is a down-and-out, disgraced doctor, and an addict, who angelically performs illegal medical services for the locals of his unruly hood, particularly for the at-risk sex workers. It is a sad, touching, funny, magical, hallucinatory/ghostly tale (Hank Williams plays a critical role… or at least his ghost/Doc’s hallucination of him does) of which I highly recommend.

Anyway, have a listen of this little ditty of Earle’s from when he was a much younger human, and tap a toe or two while you’re at it…