Sunday, September 30, 2012
I used to listen to Ken Nordine records as a kid. My dad had copies of Word Jazz, Son of Word Jazz, and Next. My sister and I listened to these records and made up our own images to go with them.
Maybe that harkens back to an age when people used to listen.
The stories were frightening in a Twilight Zone way. I find myself telling stories in the same cadence, trying to use my voice as effectively as possible.
Sometimes they were funny critiques of modern life. I'm sure this one is very dated, but the cry of "It's not worth it!" was an in-joke in my family for a long time.
Sometimes, they were just shaggy dog stories.
Some, shaggier than others.
BTW, a recipe for Welsh Rabbit. This reminds me of a poem:
The noble Welsh of High degree
Have one peculiar habit.
They cover toast with melted cheese
And call the thing a rabbit.
This is the worst thing you can listen to in high-school. You are not that deep.
You're getting better. You are. They're the ones that are getting worse.