Patsy Cline, "Crazy".
I use this to introduce the kids to jazz, cuz of that piano.
But. Alone. At night.
I just sing it to the trees.
But. Alone. At night.
I just sing it to the trees.
Mom, ya know, mom was a pretty hurt cookie, not well at all, tho decent, I'm not saying any abuse-like shit. And of an evening, she'd have a beer, and would put a record on our record-player. It wasn't a stereo, we were poor as fuck, but a record-player.
And Patsy would sing. And my mother would pace around, holding the beer a certain way, and I knew her, then, for one of me, or me for one of her.
We call it "formative".
She was a good kid, I think, in a very hard world.
Patsy made it possible for her to center.
As, indeed, Patsy makes it possible for me.
Patsy made it possible for her to center.
As, indeed, Patsy makes it possible for me.
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