“Today’s Special is Memphis Soul Stew…”

I’m reading George Pelecanos’ Soul Circus. No surprise, the novel is a fine, intense read. One of the things that strengthen Pelecanos’ writing is his love of music. A typical Strange/Quinn novel has a soundtrack ranging from soul to hip-hop to Morricone western scores, and Soul Circus is no exception. Thanks to that title and the old Motown tapes Strange listens to in his car, I’ve had King Curtis’ song “Memphis Soul Stew” stuck in my head for the last couple of days. It’s a good song, so I’m not complaining. Hip-hop ain’t my bag, though; I’m not familiar enough with it to get a track jammed in my skull.

I love books that are steeped in music, from Roddy Doyle’s The Commitments to William Gay’s Provinces of Night or Anthony Neil Smith’s The Drummer. What songs have gotten stuck in your head lately? Is that good or bad? What put them there?

When the Wind Blows

Strong winds knocked out electricity on my road for more than six hours today. I managed to finish and file a pair of newspaper columns just before my laptop's battery ran down. The biggest problem was getting water for the animals. Note to self: buy that Bison handpump for the well.

Inconvenient as it was, it was still nothing compared to the problems faced by people living in areas hit by Ike and Gustav. I can't even imagine what that must be like.

Right now, an owl is calling from a tree outside the kitchen window. The coyotes are at it again, too, but they have not come close to the house since last week. It's nice to have the lights on.

Assigned Reading

This semester, I’m teaching a course called Writing Mystery and Crime Fiction through the local adult ed. program. Besides doing craft exercises and working on their own stories, my students are also reading short fiction by published writers. Here is the list of stories I assigned for the class:

“Until Gwen” by Dennis Lehane
“Skeleton Rattle Your Mouldy Leg” by Bill Pronzini
“The Parker Shotgun” by Sue Grafton
“Too Many Crooks” by Donald E. Westlake
“Grit” by Tom Franklin
“The Takamoku Joseki” by Sara Paretsky
“The Crack Cocaine Diet” by Laura Lippman
“The World Behind” by Chris F. Holm
“El Rey” by Scott Wolven
“Suffer” by J.A. Konrath

The course runs fifteen weeks, with the final five spent on workshops. I might also let them tear apart one of my stories if there is time. I did that with another class, and the students got a kick out of critiquing the teacher.

Words

“They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.”—Benjamin Franklin to the Pennsylvania Assembly, February 1775.

"I would rather be exposed to the inconveniences attending too much liberty than to those attending too small a degree of it." —Thomas Jefferson, 1791.

“There ought to be limits to freedom.” —George W. Bush, May 1999.

“I’m the decider, and I decide what’s best.” —George W. Bush, April 2006.

“America, we are better than this.” —Barack Obama, August 2008.

Deep Thoughts from Tough Guys: Rock Bottom in Edinburgh Edition

My father had tried to shape me with lashings and harsh words, but look what he’d done. Look what I was. A waster, basically. An alkie loser. Deep down though, I knew I couldn’t blame him. If I’d had it better, who’s to say I would be any different?

—Gus Dury in Paying for It, ©2008 by Tony Black

In Which I Make Ready to Go All Davy Crockett on Some Coyotes, or “You Damn Varmints Get Off My Lawn!”

Wild animals are a fact of life out here in the sticks. After twenty-five years of living in Maine, I’m still excited when we see deer, moose or a group of wild turkeys crossing the yard. One summer day not so long ago, I watched a snapping turtle lay her eggs in a sandy bank along the side of our dirt road. But sometimes our encounters with the animals are unpleasant: squirrels and raccoons raid the garbage, a skunk sprays the dog or the dog tries to bite a porcupine, turkeys and deer tear up the corn patch, a fisher eats the cat (okay, that last one isn’t too bad).

I’m talking about coyotes. The howl of a coyote in the night is a sound you’ll never forget. A whole pack howling and yowling together brings a chill to the back of your neck. It’s creepy and beautiful at the same time. There has been a pack of coyotes denned up in the woods just beyond the lower field for years. They don’t usually bother us, though some nights they run close to the house. No big deal. I’m a live-and-let-live sort of hillbilly.

For the past week or so, the coyotes have been running right across the near field. When they start howling, it’s so loud that it sounds like they’re on the porch. Two nights ago, they began howling about an hour before sunset—something I’ve never known them to do. Just after dark, they crossed the yard, singing as they went. I flipped on the outside light, and they went quiet. That’s how close they were.

We keep chickens for eggs and meat. The barn is still under construction, so the birds are kept in a makeshift pen for now. A coyote would not even get winded breaking into that chicken pen. The pack came back three more times that night, each time howling just beyond the edge of the yard. We didn’t get much sleep Monday night. I got good at loading my shotgun in the dark (I also have a rifle; it hits harder, but I’m a lousy shot so the twenty-gauge is a better choice). The chickens still have all their limbs and feathers. No shots were fired.

It rained last night, and we never heard so much as a yip from our noisy neighbors. Today is cool and clear, so we’ll have to see what the night brings. I hope their boldness has reached its peak and the coyotes have enough sense to stay out of the yard. Feral dogs tend to mix into coyote packs and crossbreed with them, which—I suspect—is what happened to make our group start coming so close to the house. Always a few troublemakers…

Scary

You don’t think you’re getting old until something comes along to smack you upside the head with a fistful of reality. Say you’re in the grocery store, bobbing your head to the muzak while comparing prices on low-fat granola. Some small part of you is into the music, though you can’t say why, but the rest of your brain goes about its business.

Later on, maybe as you’re picking up the kids from soccer practice, you realize the tune was “I Wanna Be Sedated.”

Played with violins and flutes.

Maybe a bit of hammered dulcimer in there to really bring it on home.

And you sit there gripping the steering wheel, thinking, Jesus H. Christ, how did that happen?
You know you’re about to begin that downhill slide when songs your parents and teachers considered dangerous become acceptable as shopping music…or for a middle school chorus.

Yeah.

My oldest daughter started fifth grade this year. In our town, that means it’s her first year of junior high. We wanted her to take part in a school activity. She surprised us by signing up for chorus, Rowan being normally too shy to sing anywhere but her bedroom with the door locked and the stereo turned up loud. But she attended her first practice the other day and came home excited. The chorus is going to sing three songs for a Halloween concert.

What are the songs?

“Iron Man” by Black Sabbath.

“Godzilla” by Blue Ӧyster Cult.

“Dream On” by Aerosmith.

Okay, I don’t get the Aerosmith song’s inclusion, either. It’s not exactly spooky material. But if you had told me twenty years ago that my kid would someday belt out I! Am! Iron Man! in a school production, I’d have you needed to stop chugging those two-liter wine coolers. So much for heavy metal’s rebelliousness. What’s next? David Lee Roth turning into a Las Vegas lounge singer? Slash in a car commercial? Oh, wait. Never mind.

Maybe my grandchildren will sing something by W.A.S.P. or Anthrax in grade-school music class.

If it’s too loud, you’re too old.