As usual, my absence has provoked like a billion things I want to say on all kinds of subjects.

First, irritation at the fact that whenever I leave my laptop on for days and days it bogs down and there's this whole nasty lag thing that goes on even if I'm just typing in my text editor as I am right now. Of course, I will put up with this rather than take the time to reboot and reopen all my applications and web sites and everything until the thing crashes.

Second, another phenomenon noticed, which goes along with number three which is my shout-outs to all the lovely people who told me they loved me.

Because I love you all too, and I mean that. Some of you I know better than others, and some of you I don't read everyday (okay, most of you I do), and some of you I have been lucky enough to become closer to via our inimitable book club and AIM etc.

Although I feel the need to publicly boot Turtleguy in the butt for being a horrifically big tease. TG: either quit sounding like you're just about to tell us all kinds of amazing stories (i.e., thrice-married, AND the homeless hitchhiking stinky business), or TELL them already! Jesus. I mean, it's not that the snippets aren't interesting, they obviously are, or you wouldn't have all of us falling over ourselves to read you and then lick your figurative ears via your guestbook. But seriously.

Oh, yeah, the phenomenon.

I guess it's not really that big of a phenomenon, but I still feel the need to comment on it. It's the way that we all try to take care of one another. A heartbreaking entry will fill up a guestbook with love faster than you can imagine. A happy one will get less response, but will frequently garner a "right on, brother" at least.

Personally I find this amazing. That I can rip my heart out here and post it on a public site and that people understand that I'm ripping my heart out, and find it in their own hearts to turn around and say, hey, it's all right, and you are loved, and we are out here in this world, thinking about you. And that I feel the same, and think of all of you too, and want to reach out and try to soothe at least a little bit when I see someone in pain or even just sometimes confusion.

Now onto something completely different.

That client I mentioned in my last entry? I realized while chatting with the lovely botkin that the whole thing is Alan Lomax's fault.

As a result of which I have now 5 CDs (LONG CDs) of his collection on shuffle in my CD player, and I find it necessary to talk about Alan Lomax and also the Client Thing.

Now, it doesn't get much more obscure than Alan Lomax. Actually it does, and its name is Hazil Adkins, and I listen to him too, but that's beside the point.

He is not a band or a musician. He's this guy that roamed the world recording local music everywhere. I only have (and only wanted) the Southern Journey Collection and the Live Prison Songs CDs. Actually I think he's dead now.

Anyway the Client Part is that while we were still sort of in meetings I mentioned Alan Lomax and Client's eyes just lit up. It's one of those things that Music People (or -blank- People) of any sort understand. When there's something that obscure that you like and someone else has heard of it, let alone owns it, it's like a Big Moment. Now, I am not a Music Person, per se. But I understand the feeling. So this is all his fault, meaning Alan Lomax. Today I got the follow-up email from Client with the link to an MP3 of a song he'd mentioned to me and had ripped and uploaded for me. And asking which volume of the Lomax collection the song I had mentioned was on.

But back to the music.

Every one of you should go out and buy these CDs as soon as you have $200 or so burning a hole in your pocket. You can get them at rounder.com.

Now, I am not a fan of country music. Or folk music. Or any of that sort of thing. But this shit is AMAZING. Just unbelievable. Some of it, of course, is better than others. I'm particularly partial to the live prison songs. Those are just fucking incredible. Lomax went to prisons all over the country and recorded these bands of prisoners singing. Some solo, some groups on the line. Some of them he talked to a little bit too. You thought you knew that song that goes "ride sally, ride"? You don't. Not until you've heard approximately 20 female prisoners singing it.

There's a lot more, of course. There's women singing in the fields of Arkansas. There's inbreds from Appalachia singing rounds with a few people smacking their knees and somebody whistling and one guy you can honestly sort of picture singing in a voice that sounds pretty much exactly like you might imagine.

This is music like we don't have anymore, not here anyway. Music that meant something to someone. Music that was created by people in the depths of poverty and need. Songs that were sung by slaves and by slaveowners. It's music that actually has something behind it that you can't hear on the radio anywhere, not on NPR and not on anywhere.

I'm funny about music.

I can go for extended periods of time without listening to any, unlike most people I know. I like a very wide range of stuff.

And then after weeks, often, of not hearing any music that wasn't environmental (my gang tends to play mp3s in the office all the time), I'll put on Alan Lomax. Or something else...he's not all I listen to by any means. I'm in love with PJ Harvey. Well, I'm not as crazy about her new albums, but yuri g I think is one of my favorite songs ever.

Hm. This is not heading towards a point. I'll probably have more words later.

In conclusion, go support rounder records and buy alan lomax! I wish I could point my speakers at all of you right this second and make you hear the prison song that's on right now. With men smacking wood against something to make a beat, and clapping, and chorus behind the singer, it's not describable.

- onehanded