Skip to main content

The Hook Of Texas 31: The Best Of Odd

 

Black Jack's Crossing Golf Course at Lajitas is the oddest thing, but in a fabulous way, the best of odd.  Thick, lush, grass islands surrounded by harsh, sparse, desert landscape.  Expensive beyond rational reason, but worth every dime.  I was, literally, the only golfer on the course, it was quiet out there, only buzzings and chirpings and hissings and a few echoing vulgarities--missed 3 foot putts are inescapable, even in paradise.  Overall, a boring 83 on the scorecard, no doubles or triples, no birdies, the rest pars and bogies, one penalty stroke, three putted 18.


After an impressive supper at the resort's fine restaurant, I headed to Terlingua to catch the Viva Big Bend Music Festival opener at the Starlight Theater.  Dusk was close.  Keegan McInroe, from Ft. Worth, was the headliner.  He'd pulled together some locals and a horn player from Lubbock to form his nameless band.  They were odd, and they were hot.


The Starlight Theater is magnificent, bigger than it looks from the outside with a large stage in the back and plenty of elbow room.  A life-size wood carving of the late grassjazz guitarist Slim Richey stands on the stage permanently.  I thought it was Leon Russell, originally, looked just like him.  Keegan McInroe And His Hot Band played 'til close, original songs about brothers talking, sad endings, and being stoned.  Jack-A-Roe, Dublin Blues, and John Brown were notable and well done covers, the horn player from Lubbock kept it all spacey.

Popular posts from this blog

Sources Say 2: They Miss The Ink

  Related to manipulation abuse, but with a capitalistic twist.  They are paid by the manipulators and the victims of manipulation.  It's a winning business model until the walls come crumbling down on the street, until the curtains pull back.  You thought Oz was bad, at least they got you back to Kansas.  These journal jerks got nothing. Even a few of my sources have moved on, the wreck has left the place dim and disgruntled.  Evidently, what's-her-name stormed out of a staff meeting in tears, mumbling something about pills and booze and karaoke night.  Guess it didn't go well.  Everyone laughed at her when she left the room, seems a real toxic work environment.  They miss the ink. But that won't stop them from cheering on China, and for good reasons.  Ask the finance department.  Money's money, honey, and they got the name, the bull statue, the cufflinks.  They got smear jobs, insinuations, and an editorial board.  Somewhat mobbish, if the mob was a bunch of silly

The Junkyard Court: The Fuzzy Yellow Sphere

It was near freezing.  We were geared up and anxious to move around, Bluetooth musical arrangements were made.  The tennis court was popping, Bob Schneider was singing about the stars over your house.  I was stretching.  Keck and Joe were listening intently to an old bar fight story from Coach Bill.  He really was one of the best back in his fighting 20s, an underdog with hidden fury, willing to be provoked.  A finisher.  This story featured a demonstrative re-creation of his final battle cry before his fists ended another brawl.  "You got blood in my brother's shirt!"  Fashion and blood, the Vita bond.  But it was too cold for stories and we quickly got started on the first round robin of the new year.   Fresh resolution possibilities of tennis basics consumed my thoughts.  'Watch the tennis ball all the way to the strings in 2019' emerged as the one.  The pros always do, but the rest of us tend to get wild eyed.  And it was working during the quick warm u