FRIDAY RANDOM TEN

It’s a beautiful Friday morning in Sweat City.

Yes, Sweat City. I’ve been here since Wednesday a.m., when I was greeted by a day’s worth of cold, rainy misery. But the front finally blew on through, leaving moderate temps and the deep blue sky that marks this town’s most glorious days. Not that I have had much of a chance to enjoy ’em. Sadly, my packed schedule of Bidnis-Related Activities has prevented me from doing much more than collapsing into my hotel room late at night.

It’s been a bit frustrating, that hotel room. Pleasant enough, but the hotel’s internet access has been on the fritz for the entire length of my stay. This is both good and bad news: It keeps me out of my Great Corporate Salt Mine e-mail, but it also keeps me out of Blodgyland. (Some of you may think that’s a good thing.)

This evening, I’ll get back in that Silver Aerial Bus for my ride home. After the debacle I dealt with last Sunday coming back from “Ballmer,” I am hoping for an on-time flight. Shyeah, right.

But it’s time for the Friday Random Ten, and I shall not be deterred. And I’m the guy that put the “turd” in deterred.

Here followeth this week’s Random Selection of Moozikal Miscellany from the iPod d’Elisson:

1. Kalfou Danjere - Boukman Eksperyans
   
2. Honeysuckle Rose - Django Reinhardt
   
3. Hunting Bears - Radiohead
   
4. Something/Blue Jay Way - The Beatles
   
5. It’s Hard To Be A Saint In The City - Bruce Springsteen
   
   I had skin like leather and the diamond-hard look of a cobra
   I was born blue and weathered but I burst just like a supernova
   I could walk like Brando right into the sun
   Dance just like a Casanova
   With my blackjack and jacket and hair slicked sweet
   Silver star studs on my duds like a Harley in heat
   When I strut down the street I could feel its heartbeat
   The sisters fell back said, “Don’t that man look pretty.”
   The cripple on the corner cried out “Nickels for your pity.”
   Them gasoline boys downtown sure talk gritty
   It’s so hard to be a saint in the city
   
   I was the king of the alley, mama, I could talk some trash
   I was the prince of the paupers crowned downtown at the beggar’s bash
   I was the pimp’s main prophet I kept everything cool
   Just a backstreet gambler with the luck to lose
   And when the heat came down and it was left on the ground
   The devil appeared like Jesus through the steam in the street
   Showin’ me a hand I knew even the cops couldn’t beat
   I felt his hot breath on my neck as I dove into the heat
   It’s so hard to be a saint when you’re just a boy out on the street
   
   And the sages of the subway sit just like the living dead
   As the tracks clack out the rhythm, their eyes fixed straight ahead
   They ride the line of balance and hold on by just a thread
   But it’s too hot in these tunnels you can get hit up by the heat
   You get up to get out at your next stop but they push you back down in your seat
   Your heart starts beatin’ faster as you struggle to your feet
   Then you’re outa that hole back up on the street
   
   And them South Side sisters sure look pretty
   The cripple on the corner cries out, “Nickels for your pity.”
   Them downtown boys they sure talk gritty
   It’s so hard to be a saint in the city
   
   
6. Take Time - The Books
   
7. Busted Bicycle - Leo Kottke
   
8. Zol Nokh Zayn Shabes - The Klezmer Conservatory Band
   
9. Nature’s Way - Spirit
   
10. Cigarette - The Clarks
    

It’s Friday. What are you listening to?