On this day in 1809 Edgar Allan Poe began his short life.
My mother encouraged my voracious appetite for books when I was very young, and around the time I was starting elementary school she introduced me to the works of Poe and many other authors. I loved Jack London, Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost, but Edgar Allan Poe was my favorite. To this day he is still my favorite author.
Project Gutenberg has all of Poe’s work freely available. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/481
I am planning on turning off my computer tonight and curling up with a few of my favorite Poe stories. The Cask of Amontillado, The Fall of the House of Usher and The Pit and the Pendulum, to name a few.
Happy birthday, Mr. Poe.
Dear Old Dad and I really, really, really, really, really wanted to like the new Godzilla.
Unfortunately, I think my version with the hedgehog was better.
I checked our YouTube stats today. It seems we have hit – actually passed – another milestone with 10,019 subscribers to our YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/Dobro33H.
3,752,850 total views, with 36,089 views in the last 30 days. Somehow Dear Old Dad and I are still getting the message out that people can make music just for the simple joy of it.
The best part of it all is that I am still nobody.
Thanks to everyone for being part of this adventure!
The new trailer looks . . . okay – but some of you may remember that Dear old Dad and I were hopeful in ’98 when the Taco Bell sponsored version of Godzilla hit theaters with all of the grace and aplomb of Paula Abdul trying to read her way through Macbeth:
Here is hoping that Godzilla 2014 rights the wrongs of 1998!
It is 2014 and I feel, in spite of the sheer volume of stuff piled high on my desk, that it is time to give Daily Frail a facelift.
Anybody who wants to help out feel free to pick up a broom and start
Back in 2000 Dear Old Dad and I launched The Down Neck Gazette. A Digital music magazine that reached subscribers by CD ROM on a quarterly basis.
We got some really cool Interviews:
Being on the road almost nonstop for almost four years while filming and editing hundreds of hours of video way beyond exhausting. I basically collapsed, leading Dear Old Dad and I to make the switch to blogging – but we both miss the community building that happens with a publication.
Now, in addition to my health, I have a few irons in the fire with Crisfield Guitar, Bawdy Banjo Balladry and The Banjo Blues Project all slowly moving along with my bad health – but as I am getting better I am watching the Internet change and the idea of blogging is taking a turn that could open us up for a new publication.
A blog is an online diary. It’s not a magazine. That’s probably why online publishing is falling apart. Online content is being replaced with readership tracking – and to be honest none of the new sales or advertising necromancy makes any sense. Readers are not marks in some carny game. Readers are . . . well, readers are close friends, ad by letting them in on your information – be it how to play the banjo or how to cook a perfect brioche – you are sharing a secret, and in that process making a friend. Breaking that trust for sales is just foolish.
Anyway, Dear Old Dad are going to do things different. No genres. No cliques or clichés. Just a magazine that uses modern technology to tell stories about, by, for and with music.
The other hows and whys will wait for later. I can’t go into too much detail as I have never had an idea my contemporaries haven’t loved so well they didn’t want to claim it as their own.
Imagine. Music of the people. For the people. By the people, for as long a we can pull it off. once we get into trouble we’ll find another way to do it. Contact us if you would like to take part. There is always room for another dreamer.
At first all I wanted was music
and that seemed simple enough
put your fingers here to make a chord
your fingers there to make it ring
just try to keep your fingers between the strings.
It was all left hand right hand
with broken heart between
coordination between two dancing hands
with a teenage brain in between
and no way to keep anything from slipping between the strings .
Years went by and songs came and went
all I wanted was to sing the blues
(but really to be with my dad)
we had some wild old times
with nothing between us but the strings.
I teach music for a living now
trust me, show business is no place for any living thing
I suppose I’ll be forgotten someday – and that is as it should be
just a bit of Sagan’s Star Stuff between these strings.
What will remain, all that remains, is the love.
People may not remember our work or our names
but they will remember bad jokes told to keep spirits up
stories told to descendants as they fight the eternal fight
of keeping fingers between the strings.