Flesh And Fornication

We're pretty straight-laced out here in backwoods Bogsville. Whale-bone, ribbed corsets and Damart thermals rather than thongs.

Round here thongs are what the thingers thing at the Thursday karaoke thessions.

So we tend to be uptight rather than upright if you know what I mean. Most of the local folks frown on flesh and fornication, which I think is a great pity. That is why I like to get away every once in a while.

Unfortunately I haven't been managing much getting away recently what with Dog's expensive illness and subsequent reluctance to let me out of his sight.

Don't get me wrong. I'm flattered by his loyalty but it's cramping my style.

I suppose it could be worse. I have now fallen in love with the local grocer's wife. When I go in there she puts her book down, straightens her spectacles and we share a moment of romance as she hands me a pack of cigarettes and I hand over my money. She advised me to give up smoking so she obviously cares. Last year I fell in love with the grocer's sister. Happens to me a lot.

Return To Black Poplar Falls

This is the third day running that the white stuff has been falling from the Black Poplar tree. The irony of those words has only just struck me - Listen to the lyrics of Strange Fruit and you'll see what I'm rambling about.

The air is full of it, my eyes, throat and nose are reacting badly. I don't get hay fever but Hell, there's only so much human that flesh and blood can tolerate. I'm wearing my best Florida shirt and my old, sun bleached, Barbados shorts and I'm stuck in the damn house. I know that should have read "human flesh and blood" but I liked it the way it came out.

If anyone is still here I'm listening to the music that loads when you go to Ron Carter's site. Give it a listen.