Genius is such an inadequate word.
Suddenly, the world is a less wonderful place.
Toasting the great man with Laphroaig (what else?) as I type. Think I might play some music before I go to bed. It is likely to be a very, very late night. [Postscript: It was.]
Don loved to play with words. I have written a short poemto his memory in his style....
Oh, man, that is so heavy.
Love that, love those words.
Not to be confused with Don Was.
That's right, Jonathan Hitchin, Don...gone. Also a tin(y) teardrop!
I spent the afternoon of the 19th December, my birthday, listening to Clear Spot and Trout Mask. I had the privilege of seeing/hearing the Good Captain four times live concerts that will stay with me till I die. To say that he and the Magic Band were unique is not strong enough.