The Great Plotnik

Wednesday, July 31, 2013


It's August tomorrow. That means musicians, like other humans, go away until September. So recording sessions have to be pushed back.

August means birthdays -- the Little Bear's just happened, then Mummy P. and then Ducknik.

August means padron peppers ripening on the deck. Plot is determined to have one very small plate of tapas out of those padrones before he and Duck fly east to swim in mountain lakes and eat loaves of raisin pumpernickel in Ellenville.

August might be hot or not, and it will be windy, but it will not be humid. We choose fog a hundred times over humidity.

August might mean driving back to Catawissa, even if Plotnik has to go by himself. The stories we have heard recently about what has happened to the bucolic country where Plot and Duck lived when The Great PD was born, are kind of chilling. (We hear Berwick, PA, where PD was born, is now known as "Methwick.")

August might mean First Place or it might mean Last Place. But the only thing that counts is where you are on September 29.


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