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Another Friday thrill ride, starring the usual grab-and-flee to the studio. The blistering two-hour CD and LP flipping sprint to the four o' clock hour, etched in the program log. Today's revelations, Yabby You and also the Maytones: early seventies vocal and brass inflected masterpieces. Which just seem to flow unimpeded, without playlist, from platter-to-speaker-to-history. That's why I keep coming back. Added incentive to keep moving on a bitingly frigid day, the express trip back home to pick up Miss Jane... to return for dinner with Biggles, the Varga Girl, and Master Bean. Christmas, nearly a month late. As if that would change things: he, the atheist; she, Jewish; the wee one, ecstatic over anything that looked like a truck. Little boys... large machinery is the common denominator. I will miss these friends terribly when they return to England on the QE II. After dinner and exchanges, rather than the usual breaking up into cliques, a most excellent film: Sunshine State. A sublime small film, with a well-constructed cast, thematically harpooning the pace and intent of the fast food world. Afilm where you genuinely like most of the characters... and not a single explosion or blood-letting. Fancy that. Lest I forget, nature provided some interesting phenomenon, today: the whirlwind of hundreds of seagulls, the afternoon ride punctuated by the rising full moon in the windscreen, the setting sun raging red in the rearview. And on the return trip, the moon painting the snowy landscape in the palest of blues. An Irie thrill ride. |
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