The children of Louisville

Danny told us of the two great things that happened at Mc Donald's, with a best friend's soon to be ex-wife, and their fifth child John Paul. There was a book handed to Danny, she had found it at the goodwill. The transferrence of spirit through stellar atmospheres and his father's handwriting inside the jacket. "You should read this," he used to tell Danny. Then, in the middle of Playland, the hand of John Paul on his shoulder, three years old and an ageless grace: "I'm doing great."

I have never known living people with the names Kaden, Tristan, or Baxter until now. It is not foolish to learn of a thing by putting it in your mouth.

My Dad is dehydrated. Could have been the oysters, he says. I drive his car from the hospital to our house on Shelby Park. Napkin (not real name) answers the door and tells me that Daniel will have to explain why there is wood in the door where there was once stained glass. I believe that blacks being killed every week in the neighborhood is too difficult a matter to sum up in conversation with family, but I tell my father-in-law I am certain that part of it is because we live in a world where it is much more acceptible for black men to die.

I'm sitting at old Louisville Coffeehouse. A band from Brooklyn is in town and playing with a local band. Peter, the owner, is a deeply supportive merchant for the indie scene. The first band (from here?) is better in the first 20 seconds of their set than 90% of the bands playing in New York City.

The mental leap of recorded rhythms in a live act is going to be easier to grasp when the effects of RFID's on warfare become common knowledge. We are progressing down the channel in microscopic sparks. Life is fine and worth the effort to enjoy.

Tonight is the last Open Air Transmission Jam session at Rudyard kipling. I'll be bringing it to the end with Scott who has taken the event into a direction that is deeply personal to him. I don't know what to expect but I am sure there will be more than just music to explore tonight. I hear there is a sexual element to it, and I know from many years of playing with him that Scott's deepest expressions come with a cathardic explosion that can challenge even the most open-minded participant. I'm looking forward to the exchange.