Greetings,
Summer is hopefully tickling your tootsies and the smell of the back-yard barbecue is invading your nostrils. This is a wonderful time of year when grass mowing is practically a sport and walks and hikes are a fun way to enjoy the outdoors. Now we would not want the barbecue to tickle your tootsies and the smell of "specific tootsies" to invade your nostrils.
Summer-time reminds me of the delightful band the High-Tailers. This band is the eminent Dead cover band from Houston. I danced many a Thursday night at the Last Concert Cafe to "Bertha" and other loved Dead songs. This band has quite a following and I followed this band wherever they chose to play. It kinda went like this - Thursday night dance until 2:00 am and work hard Friday. Friday evening eat Greek Food at Niko Niko's. Saturday search and find the party or festival of choice. Sunday afternoon chill-out at EMO's listening to the High-Tailers and watch skate boarding on the tube and Sunday night mellow to Reggae before bedding down for another hard week of work.If ever in Houston check out the High-Tailers.
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while stumbing about, with my cup of Flying Goat Coffee; here in NO MANS LAND...a creation of my friends from SantaRosa/Healdsburg CA...flyinggoat.com...trying to log onto KVLU.org; listin to KALW.org...rely on them for Fresh Air @ 11a...our time...KLVU.org thru google/giggle...rhymes with twinkle,winkle...twitter/tweeker...those that twitter, twitter dee, twitter dum...was impressed to find that there was some source of JAZZ about SW/SE taxes (this comes from a paper on Sam Houston that my brother wrote in high school, loaned his paper to a Travis Boy, and who copied word for word...the teacher knew that charles had mispelled texas as taxes; thus, Travis exposed himself...oh plagaerize...sometimes the plage reaches us in the vernerable spaces...Ksu...southern university...for jazz...thanks...
(google)roscoebeauregard.blogspot.com...where I pasty my proze-ack, swamp bovine verse infused with a muscadine lariat twist...again, thinks for the thoughts of Leon Hale, do enjoy his readings when I can obtain a copy of the Houston paper...I treasure a note/letter from the late Herb Cain of the Chronic...SF...his fish wrap column, as he described the paper...Herb Cain encouraged my satire...managed to get to Lamar a year ago and saw/listen to the late Frank McCourt....a packed room, had to sit on floor with ears aloft as rabid rabbits ears...
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