|
|
Amusing how the scheme of things conspires to get things rolling... namely getting this diary off the ground. A "migrant worker" for longer than I care to remember, I usually work in a little escape from the fluorescence of the magazine works (12 hours, 3 nights) and drive into the dark for a while. Nice soundtrack of soca from Grenada supplied by WPFW, windows down... pleasant scene, all around. Until I see a patch of brown in the street. If you come from the country, you usually see plenty of oddities that nature throws at you. Can't say I was expecting to have to dodge an owl standing with his back to me in the middle of the road. Especially here, the Stepford of Northern VA. No contact, thankfully, except for everything on back seat finding a new home on the floor. Another day, another drive, I came across three crows by the road... two black ones, with a white one between. Someone with more superstitions than me would have a field day with this. So I begin. An interesting coupla days, punctuated by Arsenal winning the FA Cup (big deal in London), finally seeing what my t-shirt design for the Folk Marathon looks like on fabric, and collecting as many bizarre truck driving songs as I can fit into two hours for this coming Friday's noon-'til-two slot. Good thing these marathon fundraisers jog the usual show times... I can already feel the wrath of one seeking Peter Tosh, and getting Dave Dudley instead.
I'm bringing it to a halt for a while. Need to see how silly this looks onscreen. |
|
|
