Posted by Humbled by this instrument on Thursday, July 16, 2020
Toss, turn...turn, toss. Who can sleep in times such as these? It's a convergence of awful things happening to so many, to wit, Covid, loss of jobs, evictions, homelessness, political turmoil and ineptitude, rising rents and mortgages and taxes, loss of healthcare, and on and on. Still, I'm able to push that stuff aside, generally, at night and just concentrate on Dorian and Ionian modes, on "Garry Owen" and "Rain on the Roof," on when should I put new fiddle strings on me fiddle, on how old are my strings on my guitar, and so on. Nonetheless, I just can't sleep tonight. Ack! So be it. I'll briskly walk come the morn', eat a breakfast of unsalted dandelion greens and gently cooked and unbuttered oats, drink only the purest spring water from the well, and think only pure thoughts of goodness and tranquility--all before my first bottle of whiskey. It's a plan for the 'morrow and so shall it be.
Okay, back to reading about Anglo Saxon mythology.... Anyone wanna discuss Tyr?
Thursday, July 16, 2020 @8:12:47 AM
Gerry Owen and the liquid breakfast will have old members of the first team knocking at your door for a visit and a drink.
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