Gotta Take Care Of Th' Red Lady

Gotta do it, man. Don't let th' Red Lady spend another night in the car, man. Gotta roll her in. In the hand truck. Down th' hill. In the dark. With the ghosts.

Gotta roll th' Red Lady in. Pop the top. Tighten some screws. Check the escapement. Check th' tines and dampers. Chase down a groundloop.

What am I going to listen to? I'll tell you what I'm going to listen to- I'm going to listen to the sound of the winter woods out back that stretch for an acre along the creek, baby. I'm going to listen to the little part of my wizened brain that broadcasts music and see what it has in store for me. Then probably this interesting new band called ROAD and then I'm thinking English Settlement. It's old but it's fine, fine, fine.

I used to take that music broadcast as a sacred gift and I used to make sure it all made it off the end of my fingertips or out of my mouth. Now I just let it roll out and I keep it to myself for the most part.

Gotta take care of th' Red Lady, man. She was there for me this week in Glastonbury and Hartford and East Hampton and all those others. Danielson. Bristol. Gotta tighten the hardware. Check the screws. Matcksticks and Elmer's for loose holes. Maybe we'll spend all night.

And right after that, I'm going to go upstairs and pull Sal's tail and give her a Halfasnack. I call them that instead of making it clear I'm breaking a normal dog cookie in half so I don't call attention to her size. Tiny little runt. Wallhugging little twerp of a dog.

I got that from a guy at a recording studio once who said there was a "Halfacat" in the parking lot and we couldn't figure out what that was until we realized there was actually a half of a cat because of some unspeakable vehicular mangling. He's like yeah- I told you- a Halfacat.

Red Lady's heavy. At least 160 lb's. If the universe was a kind and pliant place I'd split the difference between th' Red Lady and Sal The Feist and everyone would be happier. And I'd have to buy more Halfasnacks.