Sunday, February 24, 2013

In the ghetto


The account of Baton Rouge's latest murder was brief and routine -- as brief as the lives of too many young black men and as routine as fatal shootings have become in my hometown.

It went like this in the Sunday paper:
Baton Rouge police found the body of a male late Saturday after responding to a call of shots fired on Geronimo Street, a news release says.

Officers received the call about 11:45 p.m. Saturday that shots were being fired on Geronimo Street, near Mohican Street, Capt. Dwayne Bovia said in the news release.

They found the body of a black male in a grassy area in the 3800 block of Geronimo Street, the release says.

Police did not provide the name or any other information about the victim.
JUST ANOTHER nothing story about the mundane destruction of human life and entire worlds. Entire worlds? Yes, entire worlds.

Naturally, you have the destroyed world of yet another destroyed inner-city neighborhood, and you have the destroyed world of deviance and death that its inhabitants must somehow navigate against all odds.

Then, you have the destroyed civic world of a city where murder is so routine as to barely be noticed by the daily newspaper. If it's true, as the Talmud says, that "Whoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world. And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world," what's to be said about a place as deadly as Baton Rouge?

What's to be said about the destruction of the world of every Baton Rougean who beholds this mundane obliteration of worlds and thinks "Meh." Or that it's just another day in the 'hood, what are you going to do?

How can we think of apathy, think of acceptance in the face of everyday death and creeping urban moonscapes as anything but the view from a destroyed world?

Me, I saw this little item and once again was reminded of the destruction of part of my world -- or at least its passing away decades ago. On Geronimo Street.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Waiting for the paint to dry

That's pretty much it, the headline on this post.

I'm sitting here in the big blue chair, drinking Community coffee, listing to BBC Radio 2 on the Internets . . . and writing this on the Surface as I wait for the paint to dry on the former dining room table that's being repurposed for the remodeled 3 Chords & the Truth studio. 

The pictures tell the story. We're getting there.

I rather like the studio curtains, don't you?
 

Monday, February 18, 2013

I. Hate. Painting.

 
But, in the ongoing remodel of the 3 Chords & the Truth/Revolution 21 production studio, the painting is done. Alas.
 
Eventually, these 60-something-year-old wood windows will be replaced; they're fairly well shot. Still, they got a coat of paint -- it may help hold them together for a while longer, who knows?
 

THE IMPORTANT thing here is that, throughout the whole process, the Wi-Fi never went out. That took a little doing, it did, keeping the Internet plugged in. Yay, me!


DID I mention that I hate painting?

Of course, I'm now moving on to painting the parts of the studio furniture, old and new, that need painting or repainting. One piece that's already fallen under the brush, however, has gotten the coveted Mrs. Favog Seal of Approval.

So, there's that, at least.

Monday, February 04, 2013

Good Lord

 
Yes, I'm still here. No, I haven't quit the blogging thing or the 3 Chords & the Truth thing.

It's just that this studio-remodeling thing has taken on, to use an overused term, "a life of its own." This, actually, is kind of an understatement.

Please help.

For one thing, the amount of sheer stuff  I had accumulated in there over the years. Scores of old reel-to-reel tapes, for example -- many of them historical treasures from the 1940s and '50s. Man, did I underestimate the process of cleaning it out.

THAT, I don't dare pitch into the trash. Webcor "Electronic Memory" Recording Tape, you are safe . . . as are the 50-something-year old wonders hidden in your ferrite coating.

Anyway, the room now is empty. The walls have been washed and spackled. So has the ceiling.

And the dirty old drapes are gone. And the floor has been rejuvenated. And the light fixture has been replaced. Much cursing was done in the process.

Fortunately, electrocution was avoided.


MEANTIME, the new iMac waits in its carton. As do all other manner of gadgetry.

The old production PC sits, unhooked, on a cabinet in the middle of the dining room. I write this on my Microsoft Surface tablet.

Now comes the painting. Stay tuned, folks. We're getting there.