Lou Reed, tai chi practitioner.
The admiration for Catholicism from outside should be no surprise, really. But some of the tracks linked in there are really not what you’d expect.
And are good.
I asked people, “What one song makes you think of Jim Kelly?”
These were some of the answers.
If you’ve got one that’s not on here, let me know, and I can do some editing.
Later, then, would mean tomorrow morning. But after seeing how bright the moon is tonight, Shealy has been inspired to check the beans early. So here we are, pushing our way through patches of hip-high sawgrass and palmetto, getting our feet wet in the interest of science. A certain skepticism seems in order — it’s hard to believe we could really get results so soon — but otherwise, it occurs to me, there are worse ways to spend a warm Saturday night in January.
Then I see Shealy stand up straight, as though startled. “What’s happened here?” he says, taking a big step forward into what I recognize as the site of the bean-set. “Look at this!” I’m looking already, not sure what I’m seeing. For some reason the blue, five-gallon bucket in which Shealy had carried the beans is lying on its side in the middle of the mud. The rake he used to clear the ground and which he’d left standing upright in the bucket and leaning against a pine tree is now in the mud too — but it’s in pieces, its sturdy wooden handle snapped at three points like a toothpick. The beans, once piled in a neat, six-inch mound, are almost all gone.
Shealy is kneeling down, examining the ground a few feet in front of the biggest piece of rake handle, staring at a strange mark in the mud. “There’s a print!” he exclaims. “See the heel, the toes?”
When I return alone to the site at 8:30 the next morning, the footprint is still there. A quick measurement confirms that it is, in fact, quite big — about fourteen inches from its toes to its deep-pressed, water-filled heel, and about five inches across at its ball. It appears to be a right foot.
The bucket and pieces of rake lie where they were dropped. The night before, I’d moved only one thing — the rake’s plastic teeth. An unfamiliar odor is still present on them hours later. Strangely, it is not especially unpleasant, and nothing like a rotten-egg stench. Rather, it smells like licorice crossed with something else, something completely outside my experience. Now, with that smell still on my hands, I’m left to wonder just what it was we almost encountered last night. With the sun up, it’s much harder to imagine a rampaging Skunk Ape loose in these woods."
Jim Kelly, "Creature Feature", Miami New Times, 19 Feb 1998.
Ride easy, Jim. You never know what’s out there.
Blue Oyster Cult, “She’s as beautiful as a foot.”
By Allen Lanier.
Allen Lanier and Patti Smith.
Patti Smith, “Fire of Unknown Origin”
Wait, why does Patti Smith have a poem with the same name as a Blue Oyster Cult album? Oh, right. Allen Lanier.
Blue Oyster Cult, “In Thee” (by Allen Lanier)
The single from their first “power pop” album.