I have no idea whether anyone gets the news feed from this blog anymore. But for the half-dozen or less who may, here is a video worth your while. The message: Your freedom does not depend on anyone else; it depends only on yourself.
This event justifies a brief emergence from blogging retirement. Greg Peters now belongs to eternity. He was talented, passionate, and in his medium, wickedly funny.
After thinking about it for quite a while, I’ve decided that this blog has run its course. Time to put ’er down. I have a lot of little reasons for this decision, but the big one is that my heart just isn’t in it anymore. Aside from my recent little piece about my almost-accident, I haven’t written anything heart-felt in a long time. And if I’m not up to doing that, I don’t see the point of continuing this project.
Which is not to say that this project hasn’t been fun or worthwhile. It’s been both. And I’ve managed to sustain this blog for nearly six years—an eternity in this ephemeral medium. And I’ve made many real friends on line, some (but not all) of whom I’ve met in person. I am grateful for those friendships, and I hope to sustain them by following and responding to my friends’ on-line stuff. But as for my own little corner in the blogosphere, well, it’s just time for me to move on.
I have been doing the Twitter thing lately. So if you feel inclined, please follow me there @minorwisdom. I promise to do that as long as I feel like it. (In Louisiana, we call that a potestative condition.)
A few days ago, the New Orleans Jazz Fest schedule came out. I will have a WWOZ Brass Pass, so if all goes well, I’ll be at the Fairgrounds for all seven days. The lineup looks great. And as usual, it presents some tough choices. For instance:
The South is the source of soul. I can offer many proofs of that statement; here is just one: the Allman Brothers’ classic Blue Sky, featuring perhaps the finest guitar duet in the history of rock & roll. (Hat tip to Peter Athas, a.k.a. Adrastos.)
Today I was returning to New Orleans from Lake Charles after a court appearance. I was driving east on I-10 in the right lane just outside of Lake Charles, with cruise control set at the speed limit, 70 m.p.h., when a white sedan in the left lane, parallel to my car, veered into my lane. Though the white sedan didn’t touch my car, my reflexes took over. Before I knew it, I went from the right-side shoulder across the left lane into the grassy median, where my car did a 180-degree spin before stopping.
Thankfully, my car (an SUV) did not roll over. I was able to get back onto the highway and continue my return to New Orleans. If my car had crossed the entire median into the westbound lanes, I would be dead. So perhaps from now on, I’m living on borrowed time. Lesson # 1: Life is fragile. In an instant, it can be gone.
One additional lesson: When traveling at highway speeds, control is an illusion. At 70 m.p.h., all it took was a gesture from the car next to me to throw me out of control. So pardon me if, from now on, I set my cruise control below the speed limit.
I try to post educational or edifying stuff here. But I don’t recall ever posting a nature documentary. So to fix that omission, here is a 3½ minute item about the honey badger. The narration is especially good.
Today is Π Day, celebrating the ratio between a circle’s circumference and its diameter. To celebrate this great feast, the lass in this video recites π to the 100th digit while balancing 15 books on her head and solving a Rubik’s cube. Geeks everywhere (present company included), still those beating hearts. (Hat tip to Letters in Bottles.)
I thought I saw bad stuff in New Orleans and along the gulf coast after Katrina. But all of that seems dwarfed by these photos of the devastation in Japan. (Hat tip to my cousin-in-law Kent.)
No comment needed. Just watch this. (Hat tip to Andrew Lilly.)
“Remember, man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return.” Or, as Shel Silverstein put it:
How far it is from gospel to the blues? About one song. Here is Mississippi Fred McDowell.
If you like your blues close to the roots, then you’ll love this: R.L. Burnside doing See My Jumper out in the country.