Continuum

Thank God.

I got to listen to a preview of John Mayer's new record tonight on Star 98.7. All I can say is that it is convincing. Believable. Know what I mean? It doesn't seem like he's trying to be anything. I know he's said that he wouldn't release it until it felt perfect, and I think he did a good job. No song, from what I can tell from one listen, seems like it was thrown in for the sake of having another song. I'm not sure if this makes sense, but this record feels 3-D. Each song does. It makes everything that came before it feel a little on the thin side.

But anyway, you can ignore all this because love at first sight isn't reliable. We'll see, though.

And P. S. This article is a good example of why I love John Mayer. He uses the word "opine" for goodness' sake. What more might one ask for?

Down home, down low

Every great now and then, I try to cook something. Indeed, I was inspired the description Jenny gave last night of her most recent culinary masterpiece that sounded vaguely reminiscent of something baked in a wood-fired oven full of hand-hewn cedar chips fresh from the Alaskan forest. In creative response, I -- of course -- decide that I'm going to try my hand at turnip greens.

First off, I am not sure what my recent obsession with turnip greens is. On a whim, I tried some at the Shoney's in Donelson, and they were amazing. Granted, I've had turnip greens before, but these really struck my fancy. Ever since that fateful encounter, I have been on the hunt for turnip greens as good as these. Several plate lunches later, I am still at a loss. And the canned versions at the store look like the same lumpy mush I get in the restaurants -- not the leafy glory from Shoney's. So today, while perusing the produce at WalMart, I decide I'm going to cook my own. Fresh.

After piecing together the logical parts of about three recipes I found online, I cooked me some turnip greens. I even "cooked them down real low" -- whatever that means -- as every person who celebrates the turnip green knows is the proper preparation. And what do I get? Mush.

This is why I don't cook. I mean, my greens were edible and all, but I would just as soon go to Shoney's. And that's why I will live my life broke.

Lessons Learned, Courtesy Summer 2006

When one lives out of a suitcase – or several suitcases – personal items tend to go missing.

I have a very long way to go on my quest to speak Spanish with a modicum of fluency.

While rainbows are often considered signs of peace, they are, for my family anyhow, more like harbingers of hard times to be gotten through safely.

I really will miss being a computer lab supervisor.

Getting around without my own personal means of transportation is not nearly as difficult as it may seem, but having my car back is like reuniting with an old friend.

Slipping knives into your mother's carry-on luggage is only funny after airport security clears you to board by reason of insanity.

Mountains really are my favorite vacation destination. To look at -- not to climb.

Changing my own guitar strings really is not the insurmountable task I had assumed.

General household cleaning really ought to be done on a regular -- preferrably weekly -- basis rather than attempting a huge overhaul once every two years.

Having a camera means nothing if you don't carry it with you. Subsequent lesson: Having a bulky camera is incredibly inconvenient.

Pay very close attention to bills from Murray State University.

I really do love music. I am still on a Ray LaMontagne high, by the way.

And lastly, I know I've said it multiple times before, but many things have made it apparent to me that this particular summer is a very distinct dividing line between two eras of my college career -- the first four years and these last 1.5 years. I can name you some very obvious differences between these two chapters, but I get the sense that it's something more. I don't know what that is yet, but I have my eyes open.

Too many things left to be unsaid

So, I'm Mexico. It's true.

Today, instead of tagging along with some Carhartt folks, I stayed in bed kind of late. (By "kind of late" I mean late enough for the maid to ask me if I was sick. Mm, no. Just lazy.) I don't have the means -- or the balls, honestly -- to meander about the city by myself, so sleep seemed like the best answer. I'm getting picked up at 1:00 so I can go sit in on five hours' worth of Spanish and English classes. The English teacher is the craziest Grammar Nazi known to man. During his smoke break yesterday, we debated the pretentiousness of impeccable grammar and the differences between American and Canadian English. My kind of fun. Things: So far, so good.

Along the lines of language: Holly had mentioned the author Bill Bryson to me a while back. Well, during my most recent tryst with Barnes & Noble, this guy's name was spied out of the corner of my eye in the philosophy section. With much interest indeed, I picked up one of his books called Made in America: An Informal History of the English Language in the United States. Oh, what a perfect pair, me and this book. I enjoy it so much that I even put in some quality reading time during the flight down here. That's saying something.

Rumor has it that I will finally have my car back when I return from this little jaunt. These two months without the Buick have been trying times. It will be nice to have it back.

Time for the shower, but before I go, I have a comment or two on the land of Mexico: Tell me, what is up with it being 70 degrees? I mean, I am eternally grateful, but something about this doesn't seem right. And the sky is big. I mean, huge. I had no idea how little the sky is at home. I hate to sound as cheesy as John in "3x5," but there are clouds and mountains for as far as the eye can see, and here, that's pretty dang far. But I do have my camera, so let's hope for some photos.

This ain't no time for that ball and chain.

Ray LaMontagne's 2004 Trouble is the one of the best album's I have come across in a long time. Yes, my interest was piqued when Taylor Hicks sang the title track on American Idol, but the countless number of Soul Patrollers who recommend this CD know what they are talking about.

While I really enjoyed Taylor's version of "Trouble," that rendition was no indication of what this record would be like. I was actually a bit shocked when I listened to the thirty-second preview on iTunes and it sounded nothing like what I'd heard on television. But I listened to the other previews, and I liked the sound of this guy's voice. It was unique. He doesn't sound exactly like anyone else, but I would say his voice is unique in the same was that Ben Harper's voice is unique.

I read customer reviews. People were fawning all over the album. When I saw that iTunes listed Iron & Wine as one of Ray's few contemporaries, I knew I was onto something. But I still needed to give him the final test. Lyrics. If I look up the lyrics of an artist I'm considering and the words don't do anything for me, I drop them. I know lyrics by themselves aren't much without the music around them, but you know, even some of the best music has a hard time carrying a crap lyric. So I looked ol' Ray LaMontagne up on Let's Sing It, and I wasn't disappointed. Don't know why, but a line from "Hold You In My Arms" did it for me:

"When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions"

It's a nicely turned line, true, but it's not the only one. There are all these people these days and their socially aware songs, and this artist has his, too. And it is quite thought-provoking. It's called "How Come."

"Love can be a liar / And justice can be a thief / And freedom can be an empty cup / From which everybody want to drink"

Yeah, check out that nice way of not ending a sentence with a preposition -- and then the big ol' subject-verb disagreement. Okay, despite all the grammar incongruencies, he's speaking some interesting truth there.

Also, the song "All the Wild Horses" reminds me so much of the score of Brokeback Mountain, I can't convince myself it didn't make a sneak appearance on the soundtrack.

Anyway, every song on this album is good. Right now, I am sort of partial to "Forever My Friend" and "Hold You in My Arms," but I do not dislike any of the songs. I bought the album Thursday afternoon before I went home. I put the songs on my iPod and played straight through to Calvert City. This is profound, you know. I get impatient with new albums with which I am not familiar, but every song held my attention. I even restarted a couple songs to get another go 'round.

Yesterday afternoon, I tried to take a nap, letting this music to put me to sleep 'cause it's that type. Soft, folky, and a little solemn. But I could not get a wink of sleep until I had heard the whole album. It was too good to sleep through.

Also, thanks to Gray Charles, you can download Ray's version of "Crazy" (think Gnarls, not Patsy) here. Yeah, he might sound like he's gotten a shot of novacaine in the tongue every now and then, but what great singer doesn't slur a bit?

So here's the point. I haven't totally absorbed this album yet, but I have enough faith in it to recommend it to you. Plus, "Ray LaMontagne" is a really fun name to say.