I thought I was gonna take a few days off, as we are ensconced at the above OG resort hotel, and yesterday’s post wasn’t shit other than celebrating a scary narcissistic value-free asshole’s political meltdown–here’s the moment I learned Missouri’s “governor” resigned:

But turns out you can’t stop the music. Imagine that! We’ve had a wonderful morning playing Canasta (learn it, if you knows what’s good for ya) and being centered by a) an Ethiopian nun who’s piano playing searches into the most uncertain corners of your being…

…and a long-gone pianistic genius from Memphis who played splintered shards of light and rapid-fire sparks of rhythm:

Also, in the early morning hours (we party late and rise early), I ate up brother Calvin Newborn’s hard-to-find memoir of growing up Memphis and living with and observing Brother Phineas. Seek it out if you wanna be electrofied by a mid-20th century account of being black and mid-South.

Short-shrift Division:

We also listened to a dude named Charlie Parker (35 minutes away from the city where he caught fire) while Nicole dealt caliente upon me as we played cards (3180 – 2650).