the velvet blog

is big in the underground, for weather you read it or not, man, its message is strong.

eg is at it again. my bigoted, simple minded co-worker. today, he was pissed off that the senior pranksters weren't punished further for the war crimes they committed last friday. this is the same man who has managed to not make one anti-war march. later in the day, he found time to make fun of how much celtic center kendric perkins sweats. meanwhile, he himself was sweating up a storm. eg is the kind of white guy who tried to keep the blacks and other non-whites out of basketball, than rooted for the whites against the blacks once the blacks got in, and has now been reduced to making fun of the black players and rooting for them at the same time, since there are no good white americans left. germans and serbians and canadians don't count. "fucking immigrants! let them learn english like the rest of us." eg thought jj reddick would be a great pro. he now tells me about someone named love from ucla. it seems if you are not a cracker, you are not on mr. ed's plate.

speaking of the prank, if you go to youtube, and type in brookline high prank, it is the first thing that comes up. not a whole lot to it, but it's there just the same. pinko floyd, dig the second comment.

grantstand plays as i type. green's ending on my funny valentine just ended, and blues in maude's flat has just begun. i give it a bee, author. do you think i'm write?

girl, that line was golden, no horace-ing around. senor, play some blues, mitchell. as the horn blows, i realize i need to brush my lateef, for these eastern sounds coming out of my mouth are hotter than arizona in august. the thing is, i don't want to get off my mcduff. i'll grant you, i'm lazy, but if you would show me the green, not only will i brush, but i will even throw in a little mouth wash. i am on the crest of arising, but you see, i haven't had too many idle moments since sunday mornin, and this thought has me blue and sentimental for a little leisure. some will say i was born to be blue, and if they want to feel that way, it's solid. but larry, just remember that they are still young. wait until they try to organ-ize the masses. believe me, they will give up, and retire to a lunch of a hammond cheese sandwich. for, in the end, there is no unity. if you find it on any street, it is probably in your dreams. shirley it doesn't exist in reality. patterson, maybe one of these days it will don on people that they need to live together. until then, we are fucked with the eg's at the controls.

green solos for a while on this blues. i love his use of repetition, like a great blues man, but with better chops. the man was a bitch. music, before it is anything else, is sound, and green had the sound on guitar. listen and learn.

the wife of a man who, for a time, was in search of the perfect bass player, once told a story. she was riding the train, the green line d train for those of you hip to beantown, when she got out to the suburban stops. as the train raced by, she spotted a man with his shirt pulled over his head. he was standing on his porch, facing the passing train. you guessed it; jerking off.

old folks. good tempo. another thing about green. the great ones know tempo. reminds me of a tempo ammons would pick. nice finish by mcduff.

but not by me.