I hadn’t heard of James Booker before, but I’m in love. Thanks for a new rabbit hole!
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Oh Daniel, what have you done.
This is a brilliant first post.
This is the worst first post.
I cannot believe this incredulity.
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I’m happy to introduce you. Booker was a singular person. He was a one-eyed, paranoid schizophrenic (never officially diagnosed), alcoholic, heroin addicted, gay, piano wizard that could seamlessly transition from classical to jazz to r&b to blues. Although he’s been dead for almost 40 years, it is still common for people in New Orleans to want to tell you their crazy Booker story. The great thing about Booker stories is that although they are almost all apocryphal, the real ones are every bit as insane as the fake ones, so you can never discount the story outright no matter how crazy it is.
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almost there… now let Steven Stapleton do his thing with it and it’ll be a pure nightmare culture jam.
i really really enjoyed this.
Welp, the “face in the jar by the door” line will never sound the same again… I mean, who’s it fucking for, you guys…
Plastic Soul man. Plastic Soul.
ok now I want to hear Tom Waits sing Eleanor Rigby in the style of his Gods away stuff
although I did find this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xzk26jdackg
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This isn’t a word, but it is the name of my new all-you-can-eat pasta restaurant.
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Their word salad is to die for…
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There I was, with the rest of the escaped slaves, at the end of the Third Servile War, and they are all yelling, “No, I’m Spartacus!” and I chimed in with, “I’m Billy Shears!” No one got the reference. I was ahead of my time. No one laughed.
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I knew I was having trouble with this new Bluetooth keyboard but I didn’t realize I was THAT bad, wow.
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