"Whenever A Holiday Lands On A Garbage Day!"

Missed It Again...

Good "Mardi Gras Plus One" Wednesday Morning, all bodies.

All I have to say is, "Where's my broom?"
There's way too much "ashes and dust" around here today!

Whenever a holiday lands on a garbage day there's always confusion about whether those mysterious masters of muck and refuse will show up. Therese told me that is probably best to put the garbage can out front on the street. Ya know, just in case!

Well, I didn't.

Sure enough on my way back from the coffeeshop around ten or so, there they were... More bright and earlier than usual on cruising our street.

"Hey man," I asked, are you finished running Orleans Ave?"

"I don't know. Lemme ax 'da driver... He's 'da boss!"

"I can go get my bagged trash and meet you on any of the other streets, if you don't mind."

As I drove off to go get rid of my bagged trash, I noticed in the rear view mirror, that those "merrimen of mirth and joviality" backed up the garbage truck onto one of the side streets, turned and high tailed it out of Merrywood.

Hey, I am sure they want to "Laissez les bon temps roulet" their asses off too! Ya know?

C'est la vie!

AND, I know that I've used this visual SO many times. I apologize for that, but it has never seemed more appropriate. Talk about missing 'da boat!

And, yeh... I've done that too!

First cup... old coffee! 
Copyright 2023/ Ben Bensen III

 

"That's My Rant!"

 

You know, my dad always gave me a hard time about my guitar playing and the music I loved… ALWAYS!

Our son was heavy into the rap scene… a suburban white boy searching for "street cred." I never liked the sing song, nursery rhyme styled sound. Melodically, I find it quite boring. I hated the misogynistic lyrics and the violence. I tried to explain to him that this form of expression is not one which most suburbanites understand because it is not how they live their life.

A kid living in a ghetto can walk out the door in the morning and never see that door ever again. I believe he understood my point. It didn't stop him from listening to that kind of music. And, I respected his choice to listen to it. Brian got great music history from me. I've always been proud of his musical roots. Still, I never denigrated his choices like my father did.

Most of today's Grammy styled music is corporate. I remember the variety show called, "In Concert." I believe it was on ABC in the late sixties, and in it, there was no fakin' it. You plugged in and got turned on.

It was live and it was about the music.

I loved it. But, it didn't last as long as Don Kirshner's Rock Concert with smoke bombs, and silly dancers gyrating in spandex baloney, light shows and fake psychedelic graphics. Every body seemed to love it better. It's entertaining and not boring… makes you wanna get up and dance.

You really don't need an instrument for that, do you? Well, maybe as a prop because it's cool looking and gives you "street cred!"

It's an extravaganza…

Today, that's called rock music! That wins Grammy's. My father would have love it, or at least, a good portion of it. I like Madonna, I like Lady GaGa, ( I'd prefer Adele, Janis, or Amy Winehouse! ). I like Elton John's on stage silliness, almost spoofing someone like Liberace, both of whom actually are/were musicians. Unlike my critical father, who believed Chuck, Lil' Richard, Elvis, Fats, Ray and Sam, were just a bunch of no talent clowns playing "the "n" word music which was destroying the fabric of the country he fought a war to preserve, I choose to embrace, as best as I can, all music because it is, to me, the best form of artistic expression.

Personally, I believe these wonderfully choreographed, lip synced, stage "acts" certainly have a place, but not in a back yard garage or the sweaty, juke joints, and local bars where rock 'n roll was born and, to a certain degree, still thrives.

They belong on a dance floor… as glitzy vaudeville acts in Vegas.

That's my rant. Just saying… and feeling!

"The One Sunny Day We Had All Week"...

Money Plant!

The one sunny day we had all week, I believe it was Sunday, inspired a sketch out of me while awaiting a friend at Giddy Up.

I'm not quite sure what kind of plant it is, but sitting so close to the deck windows, and so illuminated by the morning sun, I just had to find the time to capture it.

And, I did...

Although I was happy with that morning's effort, I felt compelled to photograph the scene and maybe throw some watercolor over on the piece, forgetting that the drawing was in Pentel. It kinda bled which turned the chartreuse green rather ochre... YUCK!

Luckily, I photographed the original sketch because in the studio I tried to save the illuminated portions of the plant by coloring over the color with a yellow green Prismacolor pencil.

Not a big fan of Prismacolor pencils.

Well, should I just forget about the damn colored version and move on? Ya know, let bygones be bygones and be done with it...

Not on your life. Absolutely not!

Scan that sketchbook mess into Photoshop and let's see what it can do. Two exploratory hours later... Here you go!

Third cup...

Copyright 2023/Ben Bensen III