Thelonious Monk
There comes a time, periodically, when we must raise up our voice in praise of some of the heroes we hold dear in our hearts. To celebrate and never take for granted those individuals that not only help make the continued struggle of existence a real joy but actually a somewhat purposeful journey.
Lately the musical works of Thelonious Monk, Buckethead & Merle Haggard have been soothingly played as the soundtrack to my quiet life of hermetic contemplation and winter time solitude. These particular cats have the rare ability to still my turbulent soul then take me soaring upwards in substantive bliss. All three are masters of their respective crafts and it shows in their expert showmanship and perfectionist recordings.
In the case of Monk & Hag it's great that their stuff still resonates as heavily with me, if not more, as I've become older and entered different phases of life. Long time heroes are some of the best sort of security you can have. I know I want Monk played at my funeral, as well as the "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" read by someone who can read real purty. You know, someone wiff a little book larnin'. Stump, you available?
Merle Haggard
Spooky boy on Foothill Blvd.
2 comments:
"I know I want Monk played at my funeral, as well as the "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" read by someone who can read real purty. You know, someone wiff a little book larnin'. Stump, you available?"
Yassir! 'Course, I gotta outlive ya to fulfill this request.... But if so, I'll be there, even if'n I has to travel to Spain or the Cayman Islands or Mehico to do it.
Or, will we be bringin' yer raggedy-ass bag o' bones back here to lay ya down?
It don't have to be here. We're all from the same neighborhood no matter where we are born or die.
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