OK, apropos of nothing in particular, check out this interview with Tom Waits at The New York Times Style Magazine.
Beck and Kendrick Lamar are in there, too, if that’s how you roll.
The money quote for me — from Waits, of course — is about inspiration and how it strikes:
If you want to catch songs you gotta start thinking like one, and making yourself an interesting place for them to land like birds or insects.
Mad Blog Media 
“And it was not the fire I imagined or dreamed of. It was the fire I got.” Tom Wait on songs or life? Both? Not sure, but I like it.
Dude really has a way with words. Some of his replies to questions have the whiff of a Zen koan about them.
Good stuff. Credit to the writer and the artists. None of those men needed pro styling! As soon as I saw the photos I knew Waits would not wearing someone else’s watch or jacket. I guess those vendors pay the Times to be featured in the Magazine.
Word, Libby. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was dressing in the heighth of Waits fashion in high school, when I had a fondness for the garb in old gangster movies. Fedoras, stingy brims, newsboy caps, and other thrift-store finery.
I felt vindicated the first time I saw Waits. “Hey, whaddaya know, I’m not the only one.”
Too bad hats got fashionable. Now I have to find another way of being off-center.
Trust me Patrick you’re off center plenty. That’s why I read your blog religiously which is hard for an atheist. Yeah…bad joke. First time I heard Tom was 6 am going on a road trip to Montana and it happened to be the venerable “Step Right Up.” Over the next thousand miles that cut got played WAY too much and the side effects were considerable deep into Glacier National Park backcountry. “Christ you don’t know the meaning of the word heartbreak!”
To this very day whenever I hear a Republican start their lips moving the pitter-pat beat of Step Right Up kicks into my LEFT frontal lobe. Inevitably I substitute whatever crap they are spinning and insert Wait’s call outs. how do we do it….how do we do it TURN UP THE VOLUME!
Don’t be caught with your drawers down, don’t be caught with your drawers down. …
My bros and I caught him at a smallish venue in Denver way back when and he was using an antique brass cash register as a percussion instrument on that one. We got a jackpot, jackpot, jackpot … Prizes prizes prizes!
It appears that Geert Wilders and Trump, Hair Furher twins, won’t be getting the fire they imagined or dreamt of. Tweet shit storm to follow. Maybe Donald Daintydigits will learn to keep his mouth shut. Nah.
Speaking of drinking to ease the pain from the DC shit storm in progress, I am drinking my first Sante Fe Gold blonde ale from Santa Fe Brewing. The color, aroma, and carbonation at first suggest it’s a lager. But the first taste give you the light malty sweetness with a mild hop finish of a good blonde ale. Good stuff for a warm day, especially after a nice ride.
The guys at Bristol in Bibleburg do a nice Pilsner, Yellow Kite, that I once used for the same purpose. Just under 5 percent ABV and most refreshing.
Any plans for St. Patrick’s Day?
Alas, my five years living in Augusta, GA taught me that cabbage is for cole slaw, damn it, and meat is for slow BBQ over oak, hickory, or mesquite coals. No plans here for St. Paddy’s day other than a ride and some chicken fried rice if Duffy will let me have some of his grilled chicken. But that pilsner sounds awfully good, and a good pilsner is hard to find. That brewery is in the repurposed school close to the old Chez Dog, right? Is corned beef and cabbage on the menu at Rancho Perro Loco?
No plans here either. Herself is road-tripping again; in her absence we’re having her office renovated; and I devoted the early morning before the demolition crew arrived to (finally) finishing and delivering my video review of the Trek 520.
So my celebration will be limited to the wearin’ of the green and listening to the music of me forefathers.
Grilled chicken for O’Duffy? Are you cooking for the little tosser now? What, rats not good enough for him? Bejaysis!
He eats mostly Purina Beyond kibble. But we mix some chicken in with it. He also gets green beans and carrots, organic of course, along with the occasional Paul Newman treat. He is our only child after all!
We have three “children,” and two of them are non-fussy. The Turk likes his Taste of the Wild Rocky Mountain Feline Formula, and so does Mia (with a little heavy cream on the side).
The Boo prefers that I cook for him, and lately he’s been enjoying chopped poached chicken thighs with either rice or pasta, minced carrots and green beans, and a bit of diced cheese or unsalted butter, drizzled with low-sodium chicken broth.
Said Herself as I whipped this up the other day: “I’d eat that.”
Happy, safe St. Paddy’s Day to all!! Get out and RIDE!!
Pat: You could write marketing for breweries, my friend. Elegant, yet provincial!! 🙂
Thanks JD. Happy St. Paddy’s day back at you and to all Mad Dog fans. I do love me some beer. The only thing I haven’t take a shine to is IPA. I want my hops spicy, floral, or resinous. Don’t like them citrus sour which is what I got in every IPA I have tried so far. So, I stick to lagers, pilsners when I can get them. Scored 4 Sam Adams Noble Pils at the grocery this morning. Also a fan of amber ales, like Fat Tire, Barrio Rojo, and Prescott Brewing Liquid Amber when I go up there. Best beer I ever had was a Lodgepole Light Cream Ale at the Prescott Brewing Company. The also have the Achocolypse chocolate porter that was so good Sandy wanted to move there!
Got a lot out of the Cohen quote – “That ‘hineni,’ that declaration of readiness no matter what the outcome, that’s a part of everyone’s soul. We all are motivated by deep impulses and deep appetites to serve, even though we may not be able to locate that which we are willing to serve. So, this is just a part of my nature, and I think everybody else’s nature, to offer oneself at the critical moment when the emergency becomes articulate. It’s only when the emergency becomes articulate that we can locate that willingness to serve.”
And I really liked that Waits wore his own clothes. Really, really.
“Roger Pingeon. He died at 77 years old on Sunday”, they are all going west.