I got a nice new piano. I am giving my old one away. The piano we used a few weeks ago at 2nd Story Recording Studio has the long lost old Sorcerer piano in it, the one I recorded Dead Boy and certain songs from the last album on a few years ago!!! I was so happy to see it again. It seemed different. I tried to pretend that I recognized it. But it reminded me of the cat that changed color when it got a new owner. Norah Jones recorded her first record on that piano too. Anyway it sounded great.
Then there are the miracles of the performances by Harry Dean Stanton, Nastassja Kinski and Hunter Carson (the son of Karen Black and . Kit Carson). Stanton has long inhabited the darker corners of American noir, with his lean face and hungry eyes, and here he creates a sad poetry. Kinski, a German, perfects the flat, half-educated accent of a Texas girl who married a "raggedy" older man for reasons no doubt involving a hard childhood. Young Carson, debating relativity and the origin of the universe, then asking even harder questions such as "why did she leave us?" has that ability some child actors have, of presenting truth without decoration. We care so much for their family, framed lonely and unsure, within a great emptiness.
My sister was taking a Literature class and she had to read some of Thomas Wyatt’s poems. The poems were good, but the brief biography on him was terrible. The biography said that Thomas Wyatt confessed to being Anne’s lover and that the king forgave him because of that. Since I’m the Anne Boleyn expert in my family, my sister was confused and showed to me and then got to enjoy the sight of my face turning sixteen shades of red. She then received a massive rant on my part about how there is no evidence of requited love between Anne and Thomas Wyatt. She then told her teacher the book’s error the class, probably painting me as some Tudor freak but at least her teacher now knows that the book is faulty.