The lyric is I wanna go back to Alabama, to that sweet home of mine...
As I poured my coffee I caught myself singing I wanna go back to California, to that sweet home of mine...
Then I thought, wait, who does that song? Then I realized, no one. No one does that song. At least not that way ya dipshit.
Now I'm probably going to sing it that way for the rest of my life. That's the cool thing about music - or any art, really. Once it leaves the artist it is no longer theirs (Intellectual law notwithstanding).
Give it a listen. It's a beautiful song.
One of the things I am most grateful for in 2015 is a tatted up kid named Anthony.
I have this terrible tattoo on my left arm that he did. I've had offers to cover it or even leave it but, fix it. I have said no. I will always say no. Some tattoos just mean more than others.
|Anthony used to be this cute|
If The Dude abides, Anthony chills.
You see, I have a lot of really cool friends. But Anthony has become something else. He's become that guy you call (or text in our case because fuck talking on the phone) when you need to be sure of a thing.
Hey, I'm thinking about buying a house, what do you think?
Hey, I'm thinking about suffocating gramma with this pillow, what do you think?
That sort of thing.
He helps keep me grounded. He doesn't know it, but he does. And he does it while he's busy raising 87 kids (or, two), working a real job, and dealing with gramma.
I tell everyone that my baby sister Natalie is my favorite sibling. I haven't ever told anyone that, if I could be like any of them, I would want most of all to be like Anthony.
Then I remember he's a Raiders fan and I think, fuck that kid!