Spitball Army

Today I was sidelined with the incapcitating numbies, which is what I am calling the non-specific dizzyness and lethargy that I am associating with a cold. I also can’t sit still in one place today. So I am taking the opportunity to spend the afternoon in my office, clearing out the crap.

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Langford made a show of “humility” over this past weekend by spewing fire and brimstone about the city’s crime rate while wearing a burlap sack over his Nike-insignia’d sport shirt, under a large banner bearing his name.

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I spent the first half of my life as a swimmer. It was part of my identity. My daily schedule revolved around it. Swimming provided constancy for me. It centered my being.

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Shortly after announcing, on 1 November 2007, the closing of Laser’s Edge Compact Discs, I was invited into the studios of public radio station WBHM to discuss my thoughts on my business and the business of music. Program Director Michael Krall (who maintains a blog with criminal infrequency here) asked me the questions.

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To his way of thinking, Laser’s Edge reached a peak of sorts on Halloween, during an in-store performance with singer-songwriter Josh Ritter. Although artists ranging from Diana Krall to the Blind Boys of Alabama have played mini-concerts tucked into corners of Laser’s Edge (which has a total of 1,500 square feet), none of them had quite the poignant charm of Ritter’s late-night set.

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I post something every single day, whether it is a fully-formed articulate idea or something that someone else wrote that I happen to find of interest. Maintaining a weblog can be an exercise executed in a vacuum and, since no man is a dust mite, I thrive on the few comments that any of you might have the generosity of keyboard to throw my way. I will always respond when there is an open door.

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