Today was going to be different. So far it has been. I woke up in the dark, thanks in part to daylight savings, but I think it would have been dark anyway. It’s St. Pattys day here which is like Cinco De Mayo here, by here I mean America. I could be mistaken, not about the day, but about the cynical little jab. Cinco De Mayo, for instance isn’t what they think of as independence day in Mexico, it’s for Americans.
Somewhere on line, maybe on my phone, maybe on my computer (they go the same places) I caught bits of an article about the biggest St, Pattys Day celebrations. The top Twenty. Um, they were all in America, perhaps just the bias of the article, or, again, perhaps it’s not a big deal in Ireland, or both perhaps and in addition too, I think there are more people in America who call themselves Irish than there are in Ireland.
My chest puffed out a bit when I saw Portland was number eight. Of course Boston was number one. I’ve spent a few St. Pattys day staring at the ceiling of Kells (that’s a bit of an inside joke, the kells bartenders have, or at least had, this trick involving a buck and a quarter and a tack, they’d stick your money to the ceiling). And sometimes even crawled to Pattys (I think that’s the name, I always called it Paddys). There was a well known Traditional Irish band out of Ireland called Patrick Street. The Fiddler moved to Portland Oregon. Over the years musician friends of his migrated. The music is always good in Portland on St, Pattys day. Oh, and just because, Fuck the Irish. I mean that in a nice way.
Oh, today, different. I put on shoes before noon and went out into the world. A very windy world. I went to get my haircut at my favorite barber shop in Okemos. It’s old school. The last haircut I got was at this new place because I had time I needed to waste in the neighborhood. Both places cater mainly to men, the new one more obviously as they have all sorts of beard products. I’m guessing bearded ladies do their own beards, though I’ve only known a few. The new place is also a bit like a hooters; a lot of kitsch and employees are all women. When I left that place I had a bald spot in back. I’m of the age and it was in the place that men of an age get bald spots, so I didn’t sweat it much.
This time, at the old school barber shop, I didn’t leave with a bald spot. Huh. I have never seen a woman get her cut there, though there is one, sort of, that works there. I mean her gender is female, neither hooters nor the new barber shop would hire her to work with customers. I know, sounds like a law suit right? I don’t think she’d apply. The places just gives off a masculine vibe and it has since I was a kid. I mean the place actually attended the old school, not just retro. The barber pole is original. They use straight razors.
On the ride back The City Of New Orleans came on and I turned it up and sang along. I love Arlo but it always reminds me of the most famous singer songwriter that nobody has ever heard though has likely heard of; Steve Goodman. I love Janis Joplin too, but her second biggest hit was a Kris Kristofferson song, and whereas Steve Goodman is an acquired taste, Kris is pretty much Kris. Me and Bobbi McGee kind of makes more sense from a male perspective. Janis puts more heart into it, Kris puts his soul into it. Janis has better chops, Kris plays the guit-fiddle.
Steve Goodman wrote one of the most heart-breaking anti-war ballads of the Vietnam era; Penny Evans. Let me see if I can find it (hopefully by Michelle Shocked. Steve is an acquired taste).
Huh. Ok, here’s Steve. It’s like the difference between Kris and Janis.
Shit I couldn’t stop looking for the Michelle Shocked version. Couldn’t find it. But this one probably needs to go somewhere. Why not here?
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