I have yet to figure out how to persuade more people to listen to Sarah Masen’s music or buy Todd Greene’s art or read my words or vote out white nationalists or tell each other what they love and why, but a few recent items have me thinking about my desire to do this.
Multi-instrumentalist, pie-maker, and restaurateur Gabe Scott and the poet-philosopher bard Andy Gullahorn who each live blocks away from me were both profiled in The Atlantic recently on account of a beautiful ritual they’ve enacted together for years. Religion, I like to say, is perceived necessity, and…I don’t want to spoil your read of the thing, but I invite you to put the question of perceived necessity to their story WHICH continues each and everyday at Ladybird Taco, a freshtastik space of escalating thoughtfulness founded by Gabe and his partner Keely. My beautiful genius daughter Dorothy Day works there.
One more thing. We’re weeks away from Holy Saturday, but Andy wrote an amazing song about hell. If you or someone you know would care to share and, if you’re inclined, attack it online, I believe that might serve the general welfare of our neighborhood over time.
AND I ALMOST FORGOT…I once secured a testimony concerning the excellence of Ladybird Taco’s tacos by speaking to singer-songwriter, Thad Cockrell, about his experience. I wrote it down on some paper, but it got destroyed in the wash. I’ll say this: He affirmed that it’s the best breakfast taco he’d ever had outside of California. Thad’s on my mind, because his music recently entered the bandwidth of a man named Jimmy Fallon. Here’s the story:
So…do tune in for Thad’s performance and, as time permits, consider giving time and attention to all of the above. Thank you for reading.
That song about hell is pretty darn amazing. So you can be so mad at God that you tell him to go to hell...He can say "been there, done that"