Coughiní, Not Coffin

Looks like I got my blog comments back. Blogger.com has recently overhauled their services, so I had to get new code from the YACCS people, who supply the comments feature. Doing that screwed up my template a bit, but I think I got it back to the way it was.

Can't really post a lot tonight, as I'm floating along on a nice cough-syrup buzz, after sleeping most of the evening on the couch. Don't worry, it's not SARS. I wanted to post about the Neil Young bio I'm presently readingó"Shakey" by Jimmy McDonoughówhich I'm really quite immersed in. Quite a feat, since I've read two or three other Neil biosóyou'd think it'd be like running over same old ground. Not so. McDonough's benefits from being much more in-depth, and also from the fact that he was actually able to sit down with Neil and interview him, a coup most of the other bios weren't able to achieve. It's a good read. McDonough's a fan, and he writes with a real appreciation of the music and the artist, but he doesn't gloss over any of Young's foibles or shortcomings. Highly recommended.

Seems I ended up posting about it after all.

As I type this, there's a gang of racoons outside the window scampering around on the fence and the big tree. I have the window open, screen in place, and was standing there (I'm in the basement, the window at ground level) trying to "connect" with the little furry varmints. I started playing my guitar, and they seemed to scamper closer, or maybe farther awayóhard to tell, as it's too dark to see them unless they're on top of the fence, silhouetted against the skyóand then it sounded like one of them fell off the fence into a big pile of sticks that leans in the corner where the fence meets the house. Made quite a racket.

Then I thought...stage-diving?

I swear.