LOVE . . . SAND

A short life in a tanktop beats a long life in a parka.
P. Wilson

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I was probably six years old when I started listening to pop music on the radio.

My first favorite song was Love Letters in the Sand, sung by Pat Boone.

Hey, I was just a little kid!

It was 1955. Pat hadn’t gone politico-religious yet and, considering that this recording marked the apex of his career, my choice was almost even astute. Also, the heavy reverb is irresistible to a boy that age.

Anyway, it’s been so mf cold and damp around here, as the northern hemisphere heads toward the darkest of days, I needed a reminder of a better time.

Heartbreak’s not so bad, if you can go around in shorts and flipflops.

That dikey Canadian gal has a contemporary xmas song that uses the word Christmas as a verb, as in “I’ll be Christmasing with you.” Fingernails/blackboard. What does it mean, “to Christmas” with someone? Kinky?

Curt Hall, of The Authorities, used to say, “San Francisco has the worst weather in the world.” It’s obvious untruth was always encouraging.

Nonetheless, I’ve decided to solstice in Palm Springs. I hope I can remember how to act gay.

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