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.
ADG, II
12 comments:
Marmite and Skynyrd rule. Just sayin'.
Skynard is my all-time fav band and in fact I had a craving for them myself two days ago. Not so sure 'bout that Marmite goop though. Looks suspiciously Butt Police approved which means no es bueno :(
Skynrd-Saw them at JFK Stadium in Philly in '77...I think was...Frampton too...wow.
Marmite??...a nasty paste..
Marmite is weird but Nutella is yummy. Somehow you have brought out an apple butter and scrapple craving (not necessarily together) and a hankering to listen to some Journey.
You are far from a Simple Man.....especially with something as fuzzy as Marmite.....in fact, just askin', but what would possess one to have it jump off the OTG shelf to you in the first place?
Marmite, made in my home town, which smells of marmite funnily enough. If you really focus, you can make it smell like beer, which is where it comes from. It's proper man food.
VB
Marmite. Plural for a type of mountain dwelling ground squirrel. I didn't know they made spread out of 'em.
Marmite and its cousin Vegemite are so wonderful but an acquired taste. I enjoy your blog very much. Keep up the good work.
Do you know Terry Pratchett's "The last Continent" version of how marmite was developed? It involves drinking a lot of beer outta cans and cooking the can-residue together with everything that's around whilst falling into a drunken stupor...but once a year, just like Roastbeef-Sandwiches and Pastis, you get the cravings...
MVC
"mom’s sacred living room" was that the room you were only allowed to look at but never, ever enter unless you were of legal age and then only with an escort?? My mom had one of those too. Maybe they are sisters??
As for the Marmite...what a way to ruin a perfectly good english muffin. just sayin.
D.
Sitting here after several glasses of wine and sipping a nice port, I realize your exquisite elegance and interesting twist with our English language. I suddenly ask, what were your grades in High School English class? Did your teachers "get" you?
As alway impressed,
Britt
"rednecks from Jacksonville"
Lord, I went to Robert E. Lee high school with those boys. I knew Coach Skinner, he sent those boys home for their long hair, in fact Coach Skinner was the one who had my brother sent home from Lee for wearing madras pants to school. Hauled him out of class, sent him home, told him to come back wearing dark pants. My Momma was livid! Hail, my Daddy was wearing damn madras pants with a tie & blue blazer to his office.
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