... Jelly Roll Morton's Complete Library of Congress Recordings! The father of jazz himself strums the keys "like a singer of tales... and conjures up a New Orleans funeral, from the wailing dirge to the graveyard to the racuous march back to the wake, with all its sorrow and jubilation." I want to hear how he "plays Scott Joplin's “Maple Leaf Rag” in brilliant ragtime, then interprets it his own way, slower, but with much more swing...."
Earlier, in a fit of irrational exuberance, I put in an order for a year's subscription to New Scientist. Actually I don't really want to (just) read the magazine; I rather write for it.
I think Angel tried to flatten me again last night. Maybe she was helping mrs budak perform a preemptive strike on my duck to prevent from it from emitting ghastly eruptions of nocturnal musings.
Now, I wonder if we could get Angel to wear something like this?
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