It’s supposed to be a place for my brain and my heart to dialog about my life. Be warned: I use the words think and feel interchangeably.
I live in Pittsburgh, in the Central North Side. I roast coffee in the Strip District. I tell myself I hate summers. Sometimes I play music. I love typewriters and records. Hopefully that makes sense.
Records? Didn’t you tell Frank and I at Gooskis that you don’t like to listen to any music from before your time? Hmmmm.
Ah, but Rich, they still make records. New ones, of new bands.
To be perfectly honest, though, the last three records I bought were the Flamingos, the Platters, and Bill Withers.
switching it over to am
searching for a truer sound
can’t recall the call letters
steel guitar and settle down
I can’t tell you how pleased I was to find you and a month worth of musings. I will tune in – not because I think there is a cure for the madness but because I feel that madness is the cure.
There are so many delicious paradoxes in the idea of madness or insanity being a salvation. Far too many to enumerate on this little internet.