Bill Walton died, as famous now I suppose for being a fan of the Grateful Dead as being a great basketball player. I’ll play my Dead records for a while (man, I don’t know how much more of What’s Become of the Baby I could take).
I have sung Saint Stephen quietly in a church on the Acoma Pueblo in New Mexico and in Budapest (aargh! Wrong Saint Stephen. I need to reread the Lives of the Saints). Some stoner Zen: One man gathers what another man spills. The song includes a bucket going to the bottom of the well (without the bottom’s falling out). Dupree’s Diamond Blues is a silly song (though violent and not safe for work) about what a man will do for a woman. I like songs that have conversations with the judge. China Cat Sunflower is a classic; it’s on Live/Dead and Europe ‘72, which I also have. Cosmic Charlie isn’t about me, but it is adjacent. Everything’s movin’ here, but much too slow now—that could be me. Also—the very first word is How you do? The last: go home, your mama’s callin’ you.
converselyspeaking 