Bio Part 3
It was the cats that first taught him the mouse language. As a child listening night after day as one old tom would hypnotize them out of their nests to recite historic ballads, or the orange female who would call them out to perform the latest dance, of course the mice had their little necks snapped shortly thereafter but he was able to pick up a little more each time. (this would come in handy years later when dealing with confused law enforcement officers).
And then years later there I am at 8:43 a.m. on a January nor’easter and after tramping to my car in the windsnow with my Yankee cap on, a spider suspends herself off of the bill of my cap; surely this is magic, a spinning spider in the dead of winter.
Some nights it’s just about A minor, the C major seventh transfer, the secondary considerations, the cast of characters lurking in the shadows, the lust for dissonance.
Once a General always a General, Twice a gambler but not quite yet a jackpot; but never the gray loser, Never the so lost at sea that the wind doesn’t happen by once in awhile. Once a soldier always a walker. Twice not wounded but yet sometimes The blood just lets itself out and colors how The sun is going down. When the crumble down is looking up and the clock is ticking ˝ past your ass
Under the Influence of: