A Music Review

Currently listening to: Beeping, Crunching and Grinding Noises by The Roadwork Crew. Industrial sounds courtesy of Honolulu City & County resurfacing the loop in front of our townhouse complex for the first time since they built the road.

Despite being machine-generated, it successfully captures the rhythm and flow of natural work as they strip off the top couple of inches of road, clean and clear the surface, lay down a new layer of blacktop, then roll it flat with a two-roller vehicle that periodically generates deep, throbbing bass sounds as it works. (Move over, hip hop, there’s a new kid in town.)

Occasional conversions between construction crewmembers serve to connect the performance together. With airhorns providing accents at times.

This is day 4 of the live performance.

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© 2019 David W. Jones

Neil Gaiman: How Stories Last – The Long Now

Source: Neil Gaiman: How Stories Last – The Long Now

The summary on the site alone is good reading. Here’s its rendering of his conclusion:

“You can view people as this peculiar byproduct that stories use for breeding and transmission. They are symbiotic with us. They are the thing that we have used since the dawn of humanity to become more than just one person.”

If you’re not a member of The Long Now, the seminar’s available as a podcast.

Maybe members can see it in the player; I couldn’t. Got error about the video not being found. While the Long Now is trying to think long-term, they do seem to be dependent on a dying technology known as Flash for their player …

Environmental Tales from Barland

A baby walks into a bar, climbs onto a stool and says, “Gimme a whisky.”
The bloodhound behind the bar sniffs suspiciously.
“I don’t need a diaper change. I need a whisky.”
“I wasn’t sniffing for that. I was checking if you’ve already had too much to drink. Wouldn’t you rather have a milk?”
“Already did. That’s why I need a whisky. Straight up.”
“Ooooo-kay. Here you go.” The bartender gives the baby his whisky. The baby sips it and sighs.
“Thanks. Mom drinks the worst rotgut…”

The door to the bar opens and a butterfly flutters in, lands on the bar. The baby and the bartender look at it.
“Gimme a whisky,” it says.
“You sure you wouldn’t rather have a nectar?”
“Have you tasted nectar lately? POLLUTED! I need a whiskey. Just a shot’ll do.”
“Sure, no problem.” The bartender gives the butterfly a shot. The butterfly dips its tongue in, then sighs.

A ’57 Chevy comes into the bar, orders 100 octane leaded, straight up.
“I can’t serve that to you – pollution laws.”
“Well, pollute you, too, buddy!” And the Chevy storms out of the bar.

The door to the bar opens again. A VW diesel car starts to come inside. The bartender growls, “We don’t serve your kind here.”

(Inspired by reading about whisky, then going to the Hawaii Fiction Writers workshop on comedy this past Saturday)