Sunday, March 09, 2008

civilization and its discontents...

I’m listening to Emmylou Harris and Gram Parsons singing Love Hurts (ignore the video - it should be Gram and Emmy, IMHO - just listen to the music) - I’m pretty sure this is the best of the myriad renditions of that song. It’s not a song to listen to if you’ve just broken up with someone (I write from experience), but that’s not my situation right now, so I’m enjoying it. I’ve been thinking about music in part because I went onto today to look for a CD by Canadian Romi Mayes - I wanted her new (last fall) CD, “Sweet Something Steady”. I missed her when she blew through Dallas at that time, but I heard her sing the title song on NPR, and I was blown away by her style, which has been described as “country bourbon bluegrass soul” - (gotta love that!) as well as by her sexy, sassy lyrics:

Don’t want no fancy diamonds
I don’t want your mother’s pearls
Don’t want you to tell me
That I’m your only girl
Just want a man
to come on back
pick me up
and take me for a ride
Why can’t you be my sweet something steady on the side?

Don’t need your folks for dinner
I don’t need to rest
I don’t need to walk the aisle
I don’t need a fancy dress
I don’t need to hear you love me
While you look deeply in my eyes
Why can’t you be my sweet something steady on the side?

Amazon didn’t have it, which doesn’t surprise me; shopping at Amazon for music is like going to Blockbuster for movies - they seldom have what I’m looking for at either place...anyway, lucky for me, Romi Mayes has her own website, so the CD is on its way. I did score three Allard and Marshall Stupids books at Amazon, though, and I’m looking forward to reading them to Xander, who’s requested more of The Stupids...Buster mowing the rug and other pleasures await us!

I’ve had a shower and washed my hair, and I’m barefoot and wearing a favorite pair of clean, soft, ancient sweats. I’ve removed my contacts and put on reading glasses and I’ve poured myself a glass of red wine and I’ve moved on to Billie Holiday (Them There Eyes is playing as I write). At the risk of sounding incredibly boring (what do I care?) this is my favorite type of Saturday night - home alone and enjoying myself immensely. My friend S has her own variation of this; she bought a big screen tv that she refers to as her Boyfriend, and when people ask what she’s doing, she says, truthfully, she’s spending the night with her Boyfriend, watching what she wants, no fights over the remote... ;p

I’ve moved on to Django Reinhardt, Swing from Paris (I Got Rhythm). In addition to The Stupids, I ordered a book for myself from Amazon this afternoon: Marshal South and The Ghost Mountain Chronicles: An Experiment in Primitive Living. Marshal South was an interesting guy; a published poet, author and artist who, in 1930, moved with his second wife, Tanya (a Rosicrucian), to the top of a waterless, remote mountain in the middle of the Anza-Borrego Desert in California: Ghost Mountain. By 1932 they’d built an adobe house to live in and eventually three children were born to them there. They lived there until 1947, when the marriage ended acrimoniously. I’m fascinated by desert and mountain loners. There are actually quite a lot of them, and I always enjoy reading about them. I have to admit that there is a part of their leaving civilization that intrigues and appeals to me. Driving around Big Bend a couple of years ago, I spotted the ruins of a house on the top of a mesa. I decided to hike up to it. It was further than it looked; a good 30 minutes from the road, and I was hot and sweating by the time I got to the top, but oh - the view! I stood inside the remains of the house and wondered who had lived here, and when...and how did they haul water up, because there was no possibility of a well on top of the mesa, and there was no water nearby. (Marshal and Tanya South and their children solved this problem by being nudists in warm weather - their lifestyle was documented regularly in Desert Magazine.) The view was spectacular, there was no doubt about it - but I like my creature comforts: my big bed with down pillows and linen sheets; my glass of wine, some good cheese, a bunch of grapes; my walls of books, good coffee, a blooming orchid if I want it, and MUSIC - listening to Django Reinhardt 55 years after his death...and typing out my thoughts about all of this in my gameroom, on my keyboard, at 4:00 AM...


Lisa :-] said...

That's the kind of evening I used to indulge in once upon a time. These days, it's a friggin' disaster if I'm awake at 4 am... :D

Alex said...

I went to a party last night, and all I can think today is "Why didn't I stay in and watch 'The Awful Truth' like I wanted to last night?" It didn't help that when I finally got home last night "The Gay Divorcee" just happened to be the late night movie on TV. It could've been a great double feature.
Next weekend, I swear I will stay in!

Anonymous said...

What a tragic loss in the death of Gram Parsons. Have recently rediscovered Grievous Angel. In one of my few encounters with celebrity I met Emmy and Phil Kaufman, (the man who stole Grams corpse and burned it at Joshua Tree) in Pensacola, FL.

In my hour of darkness
In my time of need
Oh, Lord grant me vision
Oh, Lord grant me speed


Tammy said...

Sounds like a great way to spend a sat. night except the 4am part. ;)


Chris said...

Is there anything better than a crisp clean pair of sweats after a hot shower? I don't think so!

Oh wait...yes there is. Sweats right out of the dryer!

Paul said...

All good stuff...I too have been on a SW binge, reading Cormac McCarthy and listening to James McMurtry. I followed Gram from Sweetheart of the Rodeo through the Burritos, and visited Joshua Tree National Monument in his honor.

And damn, that Romi Mayes is gooooood.

dreaminglily said...

I love being alone in the woods. There is something so primal about being in natural, part of it. It's beautiful and peaceful. So yeah, I can get finding desert living intriguing lol

I don't think you can do that though and have a cell phone, so I'm totally out lol


TJ said...

Comforts...peace within ourselves. Untouched moments to bask, taking pleasure.