“Music is playing inside my head..”


A very old, and very bad, joke:
Q: Why did grandpa put wheels on his rocking chair?
A: So he could rock and roll.

Um, anyways..
I have to admit, I am a hippie at heart. Although now, I will also admit, an aging one. While listening to some old rock music earlier today I was wondering something.. When Mick Jagger sings in concert nowadays, do his lips generate a gust of wind that blows over the crowd? Sorry, Mick. Jest kidding.
And to everyone else, sorry no, that’s not what I was wondering. Well, partly maybe 😀


record cover of Manfred-Mann—Do-Wah-Diddy

As we grow older, is there some unwritten rule somewhere that states we have to change the type of music we listen to, or what kind of books we read, or movies we watch? I remember growing up, some friends of my parents would tell me they used to listen to certain types of music when they were my age. But as they got older, they began to listen to different stuff. Sort of going from listening to the likes of Tommy Dorsey and company to Tony Bennett and friends. And that was fine, since I did not really know who any of those people were at the time. I grew up with The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and some other funky type music. Can you imagine these days someone walking down the street actually singing the words “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”. Actually, whoever would be singing that would probably be considered sane compared to some of the other so-called music you hear.
I still enjoy listening to the Stones and Beatles, even Pink Floyd and Rush, to name a few. And I do enjoy listening to some of the newer rock music as well. So please tell me I do not have to change my music habits to Michael Buble or something worse as I get older.
But I have also wondered, would the phrase “the boys are back in town” have to be changed to “the men are back in town”?
And for the females of the species, at what age is it required we go from calling you a girl to referring to you as a lady or a woman? No matter the age, aren’t you all still “girls” at heart? (Notice I did not say “little”.) Which would you prefer?

picture record

this is a 78rpm vinyl record with an image pressed onto the vinyl. and yes, it can be played. my parents had one similar.

78rpm vinyl record

78rpm vinyl record

San Francisco

sung to the tune of “I Left My Heart in San Francisco”)
(with sincerest apologies to the great Mr. Tony Bennett)
“An Organ Recital”
“I left my heart in San Francisco,
And my kidneys in ol’ LA,
I left my liver in San Diego,
And my spleen in Los Vegas;”
um, never mind..

Yes, I have been to San Francisco many years ago. I’m quite certain it has gone through numerous changes over the years, as have many locales. I will admit I did not leave my heart there, nor any other part of me. But I do remember it with fondness. The Golden Gate Bridge, the TransAmerica tower (not sure if it is still called that), Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown, and many other places. Great chocolate from Ghirardelli Square also.
When we arrived in the city, the first thing I wanted to do was to check out Lombard Street. One section of it especially. Yeah, I know, “What? Why?” Some of you may already guess the answer. Others, take a look at the picture below. A monologue of Mr. Bill Cosby from some time ago, he talks about Lombard Street. How it is made from bricks (it is), is very narrow (only one way on this section, downhill), has many curves, and “is lined with flowers along the side in honor of those who died trying to negotiate the curves on that section of road” [sic] (also true, but the flowers are not there for that reason).
My friends and I did go down that section (I was driving the car, everyone else chickened out) and made it safely to the end. The brakes on the car did not survive. As a side note, the vehicle had automatic transmission. I would not want to drive a standard transmission vehicle there. I would have wound up in the bay quite a few times while attempting to go uphill from a red light.
Fisherman’s Wharf was also an interesting place to visit. One section of tourist shops contained a Ripley’s Believe It or Not. One of the displays outside of the store was a bed of nails. An actual honest to goodness bed of nails. Real metal 3 or 4 inch long (approximately) nails, sticking straight up, ready to puncture anything that touched it. (The shape of it did not look like the picture below, and there were no pillows.) Being somewhat daring, (again, everyone else chickened out) I decided to try sitting on the bed of nails. If any of you have ever tried it yourselves, it was quite interesting. I slowly lowered my bum onto the nails, and sat up as straight as possible successfully. I did not time myself as to how long I sat on it; roughly 5 minutes I think it was. I carefully stood up, then had my friends check my back side. No punctures to myself or my clothes. Still, no one else wanted to try it. Alas.
I would not mind visiting San Francisco again, plus a few other places out on the left coast. I still won’t leave my heart there; it belongs to my girl friend. But I know I will leave San Francisco with fond memories.

lombard street

Lombard Street

bed of nails

bed of nails

(both images found on google)