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Try It, It Just Might Work Safe as bunny milk! Quantum
huh?! The semi-conceptual beard that led off the piece is no more, but its spirit lives on. It was coming along nicely until my wife called me from Scotland. "Do you still have long hair?" she asked, poignantly. "Sure!" I said. (Knowing that I have never expressed doubt about its current length tells you that she was not afraid that I had hacked it off.) The next evening, as I got cleaned up for a literary reading (the topics being UFOs and teenage whores on dope), it occurred to me that lit chicks like their Mansons young, and I already knew what my Iowa girl would say when she got off the plane in August, so -- but the hair stays! Meanwhile, speaking of books, and hairy ones at that, here's one you should see [contact me to reach the artist]. The reason for its insertion may be or may not be obvious before we get to the bottom of the page, but so what:  One thing I've discovered is that if one does not do nasty things, use PCs, or consort with calves, one can look as wild as one would like and not think twice. Here in northern New Mexico however, having hair way down your back makes one either a) an Indian, b) a local over 30, or c), in the case of an Anglo, a real estate agent. In "going native" I have so far achieved conventionality, in other words. Were you to cut my hair, the only thing to save me from the tourist roundups would be the tan lines from my sandals. It's
not nice to fool Mother Nature Meanwhile, down in the Valley, the valley so low (as the song goes), that wailing and crunching you hear is the sound of a giant bunny rabbit devouring its young. Whoa! You didn't know rabbits were carnivorous? Well, they're not, but maybe that's no bunny, either. It's all so confusing.
When I was a kid I liked to watch professional wrestling on TV. Looking back, I have to wonder why. It may have been because the matches always featured a good guy and a major villain, the one who grabbed a metal chair and bashed the underdog when the ref wasn't looking. There was usually someone to root for, in other words. One day my father had too much to drink or was in a rotten mood and decided to eat his young by yelling at me that wrestling was fixed! Now that I think about it, I'd probably changed the channel to a wrestling match when he wanted to watch a baseball game, so that was his way of getting his way, you see. Maybe it wasn't my father, though, maybe it was a giant filicidal hare. I owe his memory that much, to consider the possibility at least. Moving right along: Zoukfest
2002  While listening to the music, I discovered something else to take pictures of besides mountains and kittycats, namely pretty girls. The sight and sound of Connie Dover and Sonja Drakulich can blow any kind of crap you care to name to well-deserved oblivion. [For a great Fotofeed shot of Connie and Mason, please go here.] It certainly worked for me. I woke up Sunday morning writing poetry in my dreams... POEMS, fergodssakes! Don't laugh. In an astounding example of synchronicity, the Santa Fe New Mexican Sunday edition featured a Washington Post interview with national poet laureate (yes, we still have one) Billy Collins, a man I'd like to meet. The interviewer bravely asked him what the best poem was that he had ever seen written on a bathroom wall and Collins gave him this one he saw in Ireland back when Miles Davis was still alive (one beat short of a haiku but still worth savoring): Finally, if you have the sense, however fleeting, that I've had to do -- how shall I put this -- some stable cleaning lately, that isn't too far off the mark. I know it's working because on my Sunday morning latte run I came across this fine example of New Mexico automotive art and want to share it with the world. That I should stumble onto poetry, Miles, and a yellow '57 in one morning is no accident and points the way toward better things. Enjoy! Dual exhausts with glasspacks, I think. 
"Grack!" Senior Applelinks editor and columnist John H. Farr can't wait to pick up his new bouzouki. Go buy some tickets! The new GRACK! Update mailing list is now operational. To receive your own weekly notice of new column postings, just CLICK HERE and send a blank email. (Current year's columns just below)
"GRACK!" is © copyright 2002, John H. Farr, all rights reserved
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