Whelp, I’m sick. And now that I know Lauralee sometimes reads these, I’ll mention that the use of the word “whelp” here is ABSOLUTELY misused! It’s just a SOUND at the moment, not a small dog, and it’s the RIGHT sound at the moment. A sigh, a cry for “help”, a preamble in a single word, a heartfelt “well” that’s definitely being used in it’s last and least common usage “used to express a range of emotions including… resignation”.
Whelp.
No dog.
Just resignation with a little cry of “help” mixed in. Absolutely the word I mean, and I’m enjoying stepping back from my weird uses of language to THINK about what I’m typing before I continue in my tale of woe.
Happy Sunday. It’s grey, it’s wet, and I feel like the weather outside reflects my brain inside. Fuzzy, muffled, muddled and mild. Despite the weather, my head is filled with dust and sun. Hoofbeats, gunshots, distant cries and pigs. It’s filled with cowboys and shootouts, the off-hand half-hearted Indian mysticism of the last decade of the 20th century, the romance of the wild west, and goo. Yes. My brain is filled with plenty of things, but mostly… goo.
I’m not massively sick. I’ve certainly been sicker. I’ll probably take a Covid test in the morning if it’s still beating on my head like this, but I seem to have gone from the early stages of irritated throat to what I think of as the final stages (for me at least) of everything moving into my ears and head overnight. Yay. Move along little snots. Also doggies. Whelps.
We’ve spent a decidedly measurable percentage of the past two days watching Young Guns. One AND two. The first one generally had more blood, worse music, and a real banjo. The second one generally had better music but had a banjo synth in the soundtrack. This is not where *I* would’ve chosen to cut corners. I could get further into this, but I’m not going to review, compare, contrast or otherwise dive much deeper into these movies, other than to say I appreciated them even more having read more about Billy The Kid on wikipedia.
The past week was open mics and video editing, remote sound work and scheduling and worrying. Mine hasn’t been the only sickness floating around. That’s not how sickness works.
Tuesday with Heather and Ronn at the Spark was magnificent but it was kind of stressful. Dave was out taking care of his sick wife, and by Tuesday night, her illness progressed to such an extent that she ended up being hospitalized (leading us all to realize that apparently having the local hospitals filled-to-overflowing with Covid, RSV and other flu and respiratory diseases is no longer newsworthy news), stuck in an ER for two days because there was no room to get her a room.
She’s home now.
None of this would seem to lead to us having to watch either Young Guns or Young Guns II, much less both of them.
Wednesday’s Lair was casual and filled with strange rabbit holes. Thursday’s open mic at Morsbergers was a lot more chill with a low turnout and a more “jammy” feel than usual.
It was FRIDAY that we met up with our friend Robustiano and wandered West to the wild streets of Frederick. First in search of parking, then in search of Christmas, and eventually in search of dinner. All three of these items felt like worthy quests, filled with obstacles and challenges, and in the case of Christmas, water hazards and flames, but mayhaps it was so much wandering in the cold that gave me my weekend of ick.
It was during this drive that we heard Bon Jovi’s “Blaze of Glory” on the radio and Kristen insisted that we watch “Young Guns” cause I’d never seen it. It was a fun ride, but the soundtrack throughout was decidedly lack-lustre (excepting the Live music scenes with real banjo) and as the end credits rolled I asked if it was at ALL possible that the song “Blaze of Glory” was from Young Guns II?
It was.
Sigh. And whelp. Nothing for it but we had to watch THAT too. (no pun intended). And Predator II. And the weird Predator II dance scene. But that’s neither here nor there.
Fortunately, the goo is muffling the sound of hooves and damping the dust, all echoing in my mind. I’m not sure what we’ll watch tonight, but I think a dearth of desperadoes would be preferred.
