They Call Me Deacon Blues (or, what i did tonight in maine)
After the Brunswick Chicken Moghalai I climbed into my 4-cylinder ashtray with the copy of A Decade of Steely Dan that a woman more than twice my age had given me. Somehow I ended up tearing down dark I-295 with the windows down, blaring smoky, steely Dan. Giver her some funked up music, she'll treat you right/ Feed her some hungry reggae, she'll love you twice. After 10 miles or so I brought blue fingertips, a torn-up voicebox, and tar-battered lungs back to my handicapped suite at the Comfort Inn.
How many deaths did I just die?
posted by Rob at 9:32 PM
4 Comments:
i'm bored at a "party."
controlling the playlist (downloaded on the computer):
jay-z 99 problems
black rob--like whoa
velvet underground--who loves the sun
warren g--regulators
toto--africa (just enough)
sam and dave--soul man
outkast--ms. jackson
television--marquee moon (guest selection)
stan getz/astrud gilberto--the girl from ipanema
enqueue:
temptations--papa was a rolling stone
tom waits--?
prince--paisely park or kiss
guess who?
i bet you listened to candlebox when you were younger.
-db
candlebox? only in passing on the radio. nothing serious.
I LISTENED TO CANDLEBOX THIS WEEK MOTHERFUCKER IN MY HOTEL ROOM IN FREDERICTON....SIMPLE LESSONS, OH!
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