t-shirt wind and a limping walk to the store

The time grows within us all. Someplace there is a lemon or a lime or a first bicycle or even a first old VW awaiting. While picturing that VW, you may be thinking 69 Beetle. Then again, maybe an old rusted bus ready to take into the depths of American highways. Perhaps even a trip south of the border would cross your mind. Too bad seatbelt laws were ever enacted. The road has no room for restriction. The worry of being pulled over for riding without being tied down takes a little away from the romantic notion of cruising the highway. Don’t even get me started on the open container law. Kerouac cries and the sea bleeds. A border fence offends. Totalitarian states require fear. Fear requires a perceived threat, be it real or imagined. Either grilled shrimp or fajitas are the most important decision for this day.
Adios por ahora.

sarah's on a friday 13th

I know it's been a while, but:

Okay. Where were we? Elastic thoughts and realistic plots as I recall. The Plot Thickens played in San Bernardo the other night at a club called Gumby’s and they brought the house down. Sometimes life provides a glass of juice just when your throat thinks it cannot possibly become any more like a dryer than a washing machine. Then again, it’s okay to drive on the beaches in the coastal bend. Good news indeed. The hurricane season is upon us and let us all just cross our fingers and stick them into some divine pie. An obscure band called the Timeflies also rock loud and good. Saw amovie the other night called Control. A must see for any Joy Division fans that might still be out there. Living in the ice age must have been a thoroughly fenced proposition. One out of every ten people will become one of ten. Glass. Glass is connected to the beach. The beach is connected to the shore. The foot bone blahblahblah. Does anyone remember 8 track tapes and the way that songs would fade out and come back in again when the track would change? The best invention, possibly ever, is the stamp that does not have to be licked.
Self adhesive. Ocean Drive. Now that would be a good name for a surf band. Go on. Admit it. Submit. Should stealing hearts be considered a crime or a Godsend. Blood goes on. Pump-pump-pump. The day begins. Candles are lighted and incense is burning. The stapler is being ignored as is the pencil sharpener. Keyboardist at work. A calculated risk which hums along at no speed whatsoever. Places and faces and poker-faced aces. The body of Christ awaits. I’ve seen it before. Lore. Tell me more. Salt and the water that holds it can be a gentle kiss. Comfort. A blanket in the cold. A cold frosty on a summer day in Texas. Live records involving a stylus. #23 on the Loteria card. That’s the mouse pad here. A cold frosty on a summer day in Texas. Live records involving a stylus. #23 on the Loteria card. That’s the mouse pad here. Yeah! La Luna. Right next to a pig with a big pink snout. Calculator. There’s that word again, or was it calculated? The blinds are closed. The sun is out. Sometimes the skies can become cloudy when you least expect it. Flashing skeletons and the tonic note. Blue walls that resonate a somber mood surround all who enter this room. Is a straw mask any less important than one which is made of clay or glass? Glass. A glass of juice or a bottle of beer please. There is no one else in this castle of random stuff. The dogs in the neighborhood go ruff-ruff-ruff. Rough. The feel of a cats tongue. That’s another story, for now we have reached the bottom rung. Time to dive in.

Icicle and the Kid
Sarah's Place
5223 Camp Bowie Blvd.
817-731-7337

Show starts before 10:00