Evans’ rag

Volume 1 Issue 3

They say that journalists are always under deadlines. Uh uh.

“You think it’s easy?” M. Straus

Fat Man

OK, I’m older than when my mother used to say, “you’ll grow out of it.”  No shit, she said that, but it was a while ago.  Just right now I need to crank up the Boise unit full so to appreciate Little Feat. 

Fat Man in the Bathtub.  Original recording with the big man himself singing.  Southern Cajun rockers, and he was the ironic as hell lead spirit. 

One concert I saw him sing with Bonnie Raitt.  Long overcoat, wide brim hat, guitar by the neck, strolled out on stage as she named him, and the college crowd went nuts. 

Good for me I never met the boy in person.  For one thing, I was a way late bloomer and he was a Roman candle.  And another–he’d have tempted me so bad. 

His songs surely did.  Easy women with a Nah Leans second line.  Might even had to practice my drawl just to hang.  I still could put one on back in the day, done been sprouted there. 

Lowell George was another bad man of rock.  Counting the “take a piece of my heart” girl in that litany of too many souls burned too fast. 

I fell in love with my wife watching her boogie to Little Feat.  That’s a fact.  Long after Lowell’s passing, and even longer since the hippies danced in Hot ‘Lanta.  But she knew a soul beat. 

She knew Little Feat about as well as I did, and it surprised the hell out of us both.  So we danced in our seats in Constitution Hall.  Those cotillion daughters were rolling in theirs. 

Don’t know why some anthems just grab me by the short and curlies, and others remind me to take my Maalox so to go to bed.  Feat!  Feat! Feat! Make me glad I bought em.

He was just passing through, checking things out, laying some stuff down and moving on.  And I swear to god the world’s still as crazy as Lowell sang about it, fat man, skinny or otherwise. 

Digressions Will Be Honored

“Blog is a word midway in the dictionary between a blot and a flog.”

Read it and weep.

KIll devil come the storm

“BJ walked across the gym, picking up discarded towels and magazines along the way, eventually arriving at the free weight area.  Charlie had moved to the decline bench.  He was ready to start his first set.  He nodded when he saw her. 

 “ ‘You know, Sarge, if you’re gonna use all three benches, you need to start with the decline, then go to the flat bench and end up on the incline,’ she felt obliged to mention.  ‘You supposed to go from large to small muscles.’ 

 “He shrugged and grinned, ‘Hurts more this way.’

 “No shit.  ‘You’d get a better workout, Sarge.’  She had taken to calling him Sarge despite his protest.  She figured he was over the hill and ornery enough, so she may as well make it official.  “

Witness

You are my witness quietly I walk away repeatedly to silence, never meaning

more than when breathing binds my chest, this pain is better held than shared.

Light withdrawing each day sun is leaving, leaving these cold winds blowing down the cove

where water touches shore the ache of living sadly near where heaven comes to ground.

I cannot see beyond the dusk to more than folding into it flinching or withdrawing

neither feels like bravery nor solace before winter please still love me when it comes.

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