The (New & Improved) HYENA KITCHEN

  A s we age, we see clearer the things that influenced us in our youth.   The genius that we were exposed to that we took for granted. Two such groups, seemingly unrelated, had a monumental impact on how I looked at words - as wordplay and as lyrics.   The comedy sketch troupe, The Firesign Theater and the band, Little Fea t.   Individually, both genius in their own right. Firesign - collectively, Proctor, Bergman, Ossman, and Austin - masters of double-entendre, the parody of meaning, and of delivery.   O n the other hand, Lowell George - with his Brian Wilson-like quest to capture the ‘sound in his head’ - offered a mastery in alliteration and “cartoon consciousness” with his lyrics. “Lady in a turban in a cocaine tree” would fit right into any Firesign sketch, as every Little Feat song should be playing on the way to Future Fair.   B oth battled with a short-sighted record label unsure of how to market them; and both were best when listened to as a whole. The sum of the pa

 

      I recently saw a “meme/self-help affirmashit” about not being in competition with others, that I felt compelled (distracted) to comment on.   I have no time or desire to compete with others, it is enough to compete with myself.   The battle between my demons and my muses - oh, that right there, gives me a new story idea, that will never come to fruition - see, I can easily be distracted by the excitement of a new idea.   I am filled with a desire to be productive, but what I should be doing is charging admission to the cage match starring my procrastination/laziness and my ambition/ imagination. The words come, whether I ask for them or not - writing them down is merely a reliving of pressure that threatens to blow some internal seal.   In a perfect world, I’d be content to sip coffee, read, listen to music and never leave the house.   I think of “writers” like James Patterson Incorporated - with file drawers full of story ideas and shelves of house-pseudonyms - and would rathe