I got a registerd letter in the mail Saturday. It was from a law firm in Virginia. It seems my attempt to trademark Words and Numbers has infringed upon the intellectual property of a company named Words and Numbers Inc. Whats a boy to do? I’m not going to have an extended correspondence with them explaining to them that I’m a blogger trying to make people’s lives a little brighter. Mary, she’s the law person who sent me the letter, wouldn’t understand. They’re just protecting what they think is theirs. I’ve decided to change the name of the blog. I thought a lot, okay, about an hour. I came up with a lot of names but nine seemed to fit my personality. I thought of Stud Muffin Review. Naw, too close to home. The Stormy Patriot? Who am I kidding? I queued up some music. I had Mark Geary’s 331/3 Grand Street loaded. I needed something familiar and a new CD just didn’t seem to be thought provoking, and I’d spend time listening to it. I needed one of my go-to CDs. Rites of Passage by the Indigo Girls is a big favorite but not good for prodding thoughts out. Tom Waits’ Nighthawks at the Diner is wonderful but Nighthawks Something won’t wash. The Who were out because they’re loud and make me play air guitar. I settled on Blood on the Tracks by Dylan. I listened and tossed ideas around inside my head. I fell asleep just as Lily, Rosemarie and The Jack of Hearts came on. I woke up a four a.m. I had a bad dream about knives, spears and cell phones. I own none of them. I cranked Dylan back up. I listened and it hit me!!!! The new title, after writing it down so I could read it and see if it flew, is Tangled Up In A Twist of Fate. If you’re going to get inspiration, get it from the best. The title is obtuse enough to allow me to wander around inside my head and find neat stuff to post. It adds an air of mystery and will pique the curiosity of passersby.

I’m going to use my limited tech skills to revamp the blog. It will be cosmetic. Maybe a new body and header, a typeface change for the header. A picture of something interesting, not too feminine but not overtly macho, you know appealing to as many as I can. I’ll try to get downloading videos and music.

Was channel surfing and came across Cool TV our local answer to MTV and VH1’s lack of music videos. I was caught Lynrd Skinrd playing Free Bird. This has been a bugbear for my since a bartender I knew played it on the jukebox. He played it everytime he took an, ahem. smoke break. I got to hate the song. At first, just playing it on the radio in my car drove me to punching station presets to get away from it. As I got older the rage died down into a dislike of certain parts of the song, like the lyrics and the music. As time passed I didn’t see it much and after a while it faded to the occasional play by a pseudo red neck. Then Cool TV arrived and with it concert videos, a domain of hard core fans. Cool TV played a video and I watched like a rabbit trying to stare down a timber rattler. I was sucked into the vortex that is Lynrd Skynrd. I watched, red neck lyrics, posturing and endless guitar solos. The one that came on today was triumphantly bad. They got through the song posturing and trying various guitar angles to show that they could play other than the standard horizontal to the front of the body. The end solo same. They wandered around the stage playing to as many front row fans as pracitible. They left the stage  and approached the crowd as close as they dared. The circled center stage and played the coda, five times, jumping back in as the piano player ran the keyboard. The ended blessedly and waved goodbye to their fans and headed backstage to collect their blood money. I had to shower to wash off all the pseudo moonshine and car exhaust off.

I gotta go. See you Wednesday.