When the surreal get going...

Okay, so the thing is this: sometimes, real reality is weirder than surreality. Press conferences where people cheer for letting the uninsured die. Where the southern debate crowd boo a soldier just back from service in the mideast as he announced that he was gay. Where stocks plunge and rise like a yoyo in the hands of a spastic. Where the US house of representatives defeats a temporary budget because there are no offset social program reductions to pay for disaster aid (that's allright, we don't need to fix those roads and bridges after the hurricane). Also this week, unnoticed by most people, there was an interesting tidbit in the news about a guy named Marc Anthony Donais, 47, formerly known as '90s gay porn star Ryan Idol, who was convicted on Tuesday of attempting to kill his girlfriend with a porcelain toilet tank lid.

Wait.
Gay porn star.
Girlfriend.
Toilet tank lid.

uh...okay...

In the ensuing press coverage, a drag queen was quoted as saying, "I lived next door to Ryan when I first moved to LA in 1996 and, CHRIST ON A CRACKER, that bitch was NUTS."

uh, huh...

Today happens to be the birthday of Ian Tyson. Most people have probably forgotten him by now, and well over half of the people who get that crazy smiled wistful eyed look at the mention of his name have probably never heard of him either. He's about 78 now, a singer, songwriter, and rancher. Back in the late 60's or so, he and his then wife performed as a folk duo by the name of Ian and Sylvia. Around that time I knew this folksinger name of Hank Sable. He performed often at the Purple Dragon, a coffeehouse in Ocean City, NJ. that I helped run. He was the first person I knew to play "Alice's Restaurant". He'd been to that year's Newport Folk Festival and told us about Woody's son, played the song part, and made us memorize it so that when it came around again...  As the end of summer drew near, Hank would perform this one song that would get me every time. It was written by Ian Tyson, and I started thinking of it again when the leaves outside my window began to turn. And it still gets me, as I mentally see and sense the world slowly packing up and going away for the season. And after all these years, I may not be sure, but I think I've settled down.