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Showing posts from April, 2020

Teaser link of the week

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WONDERING IF, DURING THIS QUARANTINE, THERE ARE BIRDS LOOKS LIKE THERE BIRDS WHEW! HAD A PLAYA STRESSIN' I NORMALLY DON'T CLICK ON THESE TEASER LINKS BUT ALL THIS BIRD TALK AND THIS BEAUTIFUL PHOTO HAS PIQUED MY INTEREST "LIKE IF REDMAN WERE REALLY INTO BIRDS" - ROLLING STONE DOES THE ALBUM HAVE A THEME "THIS IS A CUT FROM MY NEW ALBUM 'THERE ARE BIRDS,' IT'S CALLED 'THERE ARE BIRDS' "IT'S ABOUT HOW THERE ARE BIRDS ... "CHECK IT OUT, UH ... PREMIER ON THE 1 AND 2S /PREMIER DROPS BEAT/ "UH, YO, CHECK IT OUT ... "THERE ARE BIRDS, THERE ARE BIRDS, THAT'S MY WORD, CHECK THE WORLD OUT THERE DOIN' THEIR THING, FLASHIN' THAT BLING, LISTEN, HEAR THEM SING SHOUTOUT TO MY HOMIE THE NORTHERN LAPWING GOIN' ABOUT ALL THE THINGS, DURING SPRING, AIN'T NO THING FLYIN' IN THE FACE OF SOCIAL DIS-TANC-ING YO THE BIRDS ARE THERE, IN THE AIR, IN MY HAIR?, ONLY THING FOR SURE ...

The hoop

I don’t recall a time from my young life when I wasn’t constantly playing basketball, and I don’t remember our house without the hoop out front. Whatever vague recollection there is suggests the basketball hoop was installed when I was in maybe second grade, when my dad, a pipefitter, brought home a two-ton cylindrical metal pole he had crafted at work and then somehow, with the help of at least five friends no doubt, forged that thing into the earth a foot or so from the street, and attached the hoop with metal brackets to its required 10-foot height. There were jokes, I think, about my dad having to do it this way, his way, which is to say making the dang thing at his work while probably using a blow torch and not just buying a regular basketball hoop like everyone else. (Those who’ve read the book might recall that my dad also crafted me a metal pole at work when I needed a shepherd’s staff for my fifth-grade Christmas play, so this was on brand.) It was, however, to his cre...