I
decided to quit my African safari when an elephant shot me and stole my pajamas.
I have no idea what he thinks he's going to do with my pajamas.
I grabbed the first flying boat and arrived in Tuscaloosa in time to get my personal SR81 titanium spy plane out of the hock shop and was well on my way home when I ran out of gas in some little podunk town where they don't even sell titanium spy plane fuel.
So I had to blow up my inflatable 10 speed bicycle and ride the rest of the way.
Made it just in time for my usual at Caffe Ladro.
At the library, I listened to some videos on the cellist's site I just joined.
It's called SPOCC.
I don't remember why it's called that right at the moment, but I'm sure that the word "cello" is part of it.
On the way up to Seattle Central, I stopped at Victrola and ate a Zembelli sandwich and drank a Boylan's black cherry soda.
Good stuff.
When I got on campus some young girl started following me asking some kind of question, could have been about my book bag that is decorated with a Bach score that a friend of mine brought back from Austria (Vienna) but I'm getting deaf, so I didn't hear her.
Anyway, the string quartet piece I'm working on (the one Meredith liked last time she heard it) is proceeding apace.
I missed the 3:00 bus so I took the opportunity to saunter on up to the Rite-Aid and buy some CD sleeves. (I now have over a hundred CDs left over from my weekly composition work
If you want a handful, let me know).
While waiting for the bus I listened to a guitarist playing his battery operated electric across the street.
He sounded pretty good,
As well as I could hear considering the competition from the nearby CD store's outside speakers.
Not to mention the traffic.
So now I'm home doing this.
Later this evening, I'll be at the Chamber Music Festival listening to Jeremy Denk playing (and hopefully talking about) Charles Ives.
So there you have it, the balloon's deflated and packed away, ready for the next adventure.
I have no idea what he thinks he's going to do with my pajamas.
I grabbed the first flying boat and arrived in Tuscaloosa in time to get my personal SR81 titanium spy plane out of the hock shop and was well on my way home when I ran out of gas in some little podunk town where they don't even sell titanium spy plane fuel.
So I had to blow up my inflatable 10 speed bicycle and ride the rest of the way.
Made it just in time for my usual at Caffe Ladro.
At the library, I listened to some videos on the cellist's site I just joined.
It's called SPOCC.
I don't remember why it's called that right at the moment, but I'm sure that the word "cello" is part of it.
On the way up to Seattle Central, I stopped at Victrola and ate a Zembelli sandwich and drank a Boylan's black cherry soda.
Good stuff.
When I got on campus some young girl started following me asking some kind of question, could have been about my book bag that is decorated with a Bach score that a friend of mine brought back from Austria (Vienna) but I'm getting deaf, so I didn't hear her.
Anyway, the string quartet piece I'm working on (the one Meredith liked last time she heard it) is proceeding apace.
I missed the 3:00 bus so I took the opportunity to saunter on up to the Rite-Aid and buy some CD sleeves. (I now have over a hundred CDs left over from my weekly composition work
If you want a handful, let me know).
While waiting for the bus I listened to a guitarist playing his battery operated electric across the street.
He sounded pretty good,
As well as I could hear considering the competition from the nearby CD store's outside speakers.
Not to mention the traffic.
So now I'm home doing this.
Later this evening, I'll be at the Chamber Music Festival listening to Jeremy Denk playing (and hopefully talking about) Charles Ives.
So there you have it, the balloon's deflated and packed away, ready for the next adventure.
Labels: Snooty east coast girly music
posted by Lane Savant at 4:53 PM
14 Comments:
For those uninitiated, Groucho Marx had a great and famous bit. He said something like, "I just got back from Africa. I shot an elephant in my pajamas. What he was doing in my pajamas I will never know!" Badda Boom!
Dougie, with his inimitable imagination came up with this zinger:
Groucho's Pajamas
I decided to quit
my African safari
when an elephant shot me
and stole my pajamas.
I have no idea
what he thinks
he's going to do
with my pajamas.
I grabbed
the first flying boat
and arrived in Tuscaloosa
in time
to get my personal
SR81 titanium spy plane
out of the hock shop
and was well on my way home
when I ran out of gas
in some little podunk town
where they don't even sell
titanium spy plane fuel.
So I had to blow up
my inflatable 10 speed bicycle
and ride
the rest of the way.
Doug Palmer July 2008
This ditty is of course already posted on FFTR, for all to peruse, enjoy, and be baffled by.
What the hell is a Zembelli sandwich? I will have to take a gander at the Bach book bag one of these days. I am starting to think maybe one of these weekends I need to drive back up to Renton, while I can still remember the way, and have lunch with Meredith and Douglas. How does this Sunday shake down? I think I could spare a few hours for face time. The weekend of the 18th I will be a Pac Beach with Melva. Sunday the 26th works for me too.
Wow, I wonder what the young girl was trying to communicate to the old Sir Savant? Maybe she was panhandling or soliciting for sex or trying to cajole you into voting for McCain, or inquiring if you are the famous Doug Palmer that SSO has wanted posters on.
Was the guitarist cranking out basic rock and roll, or blues, or rockabilly, or jazz, or classical?
Be gentle with your balloon. One never knows how many more times it can be inflated, and those flights of fancy are essential.
Glenn
Damn, Doug--that street guitarist was me! I thought you would appreciate some random licks.
........Eddy Emerald
Eddy, you are always showing off. If I were to make an appearance, Doug would certainly recognize me. Then again, did he really take a good look at the young girl who was trying to get his attention?
............Emily
Quit your bitching, both of you. I was sitting right across from Doug at the library, and he didn't notice me either.
..........Poo
Yeah, I can dig it. I run out regularly and try and bite his leg while he is peddling Fidelio, and he does not really give me the recognition a movie star should get.
...........Lassie
Salami, cheese and some green stuff on....dunno what kind of bread.
I really didn't hear what the girl was saying, i assumed, this being Broadway and all, that a plea for money was involved.
It wasn't you, Eddy, If you lived a little less in your own imagination you might not have tried a 90 degree right turn northbound on the Auroura bridge.
He was playing blues.
Lassie, you bitch, I've still got the combat boots the Army gave me and next time you pull that crap, I'll show you some "respect" all right.
Hallo, Lane!
If you are talking about the maroon book bag I gave you, I brought it from Schwerin, GERMANY, not Austria. I volunteer in the Theaterladen (Laden = "Shop", not the surname of a friend of the Bush family) there. It may have been MADE in Austria (I think that is where the Theaterladen gets the bags), but I bought/brought it from Germany.
Tschuess,
Anonopmann
aupayHallo, Lane!
Two (2!) pairs of mhy eyeglasses were stolen (in different nights) on my Amtrak safari, but I continued on, surprised that I could see so well without them. I now know why they were stolen; a replacement pair will cost $232 @ Wal*Mart! (Because I got my glaases before on Medicare, I hjad no idea they cost soooo nuch!!
Tschuess,
Anonomann (not "Anopmann"!!)
Yeah, good idea, face time, Renton, Whistlestop, Sunday.
Time?
I guess Summer is actually here. No clouds on the horizon this early morning on the drive in.
Anonomann, the pox on those glasses thieves on Amtrak. Yes, most glasses these days run over 200 bucks a pair, and up to 300. Lots of profit margin too. I hope you will shake the hand of this lonely blogger this weekend when I make a rare appearance up there in Renton. That would be sehr gut.
Perhaps Eddy was also there, with the street guitarist, it is just that spirit guitar is like air guitar; hard to hear--and he, of course, would be hard to see. I thought he rode his Harley off the Alaskan Way Viaduct, launching himself our over Ivars? Maybe it was the Aurora Bridge, or the George Washington bridge as it is actually dubbed. That's the thing about urban legends, shit changes all the time when they are recounted.
Divers apologies came in to me relative to my solo appearance for the TFC meeting Tuesday night. I am smiling about it now, but I was a bit steamed on the night of. I am having my second IVIG treatment today, having had one yesterday. Then I stick around Tacoma, and eat some Ivar's clam chowder, and then host the CSL screening of the Japanese comedy, SHALL WE DANCE?
I prefer the dry salami, without the peppercorns. I keep some of it in the fridge just to munch on breadless. I have found some great Led Zepplin lyrics and some greater Queen lyrics for FFTR, and check out Rick's painting, and my poem, AZTEC EYES.
Glenn
What Butch said, yes.
................Eddy
Well, damn Dougie. If you are going to get all hostile and shit, and call me bitch, I will need to remind you that all of we Lassies have been male. Our long fur hides our identity. Bitches are not as smart they tell me. But if I see you riding Fidelio in those combat boots, I will recruit my pal, Rin Tin Tin, and we will chew you down to our size.
................Lassie
Just take you Glock, dude, and pop a cap in both of dem punk bitches.
..........Tupac
O.K. the viaduct. Eddy should know.
Another Marx bros routine for ya.
Why a roara?
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