Speaking of great albums

One of my first introductions to music other than rock was back in early 1998, in the dead of winter, on a frozen island in Lake Superior. I was up there for the weekend, dogsledding (which is quite a workout), and stopped into a deserted, very funky cafe for dinner. The owner, a character, of course, was playing the strangest, yet coolest sounding guitar music CD I'd ever heard. It was Ali Farka Toure's fine "Talking Timbuktu" album. I've been an admirer of Toure's music ever since, even going so far as to see him play live when he came to Chicago a few years back.

Sadly, he passed away yesterday at his home in Northern Mali.

In other news...
Sox haul out the lumber in a big spring training win over the Thomas-less A's.. Widger hits two homers. Blakely, Sweeney and Konerko each add one. The pitching held up as well, including Buehrle, who struck out 5 in 4 IP. Sox are back on track.

Oh, here's another flash, gordon:
The new Sports Illustrated claims Barry Bonds was big into roids. DUH!

I hate acknowledging these things, but today is the annivsary of my birth, 37 years ago on Chicago's west side. My parents are long dead, so I don't expect a call from them anymore. A lot has happened in the past year to make me cherish this life. And even though I am surrounded by love I still feel lonely sometimes. So watch this space later tonight for potentially drunken ramblings.