Just a bit of stuff before the weekend

I am back. I have another Friday night with the Outlaws upon me. I am psyching myself up as we speak. I have concluded that my father in law has no short term memory (or lacks the "register" that allows short term memories to be logged in the long term memory)(it is kind of like filling up a computers cache memory but there is no way to get that information on to the hard drive) and that he is and has been dependent upon my mother in law to be his memory for him. I am not sure how long this has been the case, but I am thinking it has been going on, without anybody noticing, for a good number of years.

The upshot of that is that he becomes so anxious when she is not around because nobody will spoon-feed him this memory. He really should be and should have been writing things down. That way he is responsible for himself and his "memories" of the here and now. But, my mother in law would not insist on this and as is her want, she will enable the dependency. She has been doing it for 50 years and it ain't gonna stop now. But do I have to witness it?

On a happier note, I was struck by an interview with Paul Weller talking about his career and such and the fact that he is playing the Jam songs on his latest tour. The thing that struck me was his answer and that it was a great way to honor the 30 years from the Jam's first album, "In the City". It is a great album, but I am biased.

That got me thinking of other albums that I love that are also 30 years old this year. There is "Talking Heads '77" that stands out and The Stranglers, "Rattus Norvegicus". I loved that album back in the early and mid '80s (still do but I have not converted it to disc). I remember thinking back in 1982, that it was a 5 year old recording and now it is 30. Hell, the final Jam album, "The Gift" is 25 years old as is Roxy Music's "Avalon". Where does the time go?

I am getting freaked by the movement of time and my place in it. When I look at the age of those albums and the fact that the Lad is ten, I find it somewhat sobering. Who the fuck needs to be sober? Not me! I think I may have to go on one long drawn out drinking bender ala Nicholas Cage in "Leaving Las Vegas". That settles it, it is time for me, nay it must be my destiny, to drink myself to death. I can go out in a blaze, er haze, of glory. Or is that really a pathetic punctuation mark to a life, my life? I think it is the latter, so sober I must stay. Then again, I am going to the Outlaws, so a few shots cannot hurt and can only ease the mental pain (and physical if you count the food (over)cooked by my mother in law) I am going to have to live through in about an hour.

On that happy note, Ciao !