Odd I know…but I woke up this morning with precise cravings. I think it’s partly due to being in a strange place and in a strange bed. You see...I’m back home now.
It started out olfactorily. I smelled Marmite when I walked in the kitchen to brew a shot of caffeine. Leastways my mind’s nose huffed a pop of the salty yeast extract. I’ve said it before…Vegemite is for wimps. It ain't fuzzy enough for me.
So I concocted a mélange of butter and Marmite…riding on an English muffin. Nirvana.
And then amidst my salty fuzzy muffin munch, how I don’t know; I started thinking about Lynyrd Skynyrd’s album…Pronounced.
…and how I used to play drums in my mom’s sacred living room while the rednecks from Jacksonville belted their songs through this, mom’s stereo whose speakers I was soon to blow-out. Told you I was having an odd morning.
And how I ended up on a whim, sitting in the front row of a small venue expose' of boys Skynyrd and then I recollected how fortunate I was to spin out of that redneck rock and roll phase post haste and move on to more civilized pursuits.
But there remains a couple of songs, no too debased by all of the redneck-outdoor concert-ass-whippin- bad tattoo genre known today as Southern Rock. Songs that even after all these years, still have a sweet resonance when most of the genre seems now, to my other-worldly ear, tinny and twee. Simple Man from the Pronounced album is one of those that especially in the beginning, retains some of that pureness.
Onward. Still amidst odd cravings…trying to get Sinsayshun on the phone. Headed to the doctor…check up time.