Nothing Wrong With Old Kentucky

I don't mention a lot that I'm originally from Kentucky, at least not here, although that is literally all I write about in STEPS, and a lot of the blogs on the side are Kentucky ones. One of them, Crow's Nest, which I found through Bejeezus Magazine (always cite your sources, kids!), had a recent post that made me really jealous, starring perennial Kentucky crush-ee Joe Manning. I used to work with Joe a while back, he plays lap steel and guitar (and writes ridiculously good music on them) and mixes a mean Bloody Mary. He also has the most luxuriant of all of the post-Will Oldham Louisville beards, thereby winning the Kentuckiana trifecta of music, liquor and facial hair, making him what mommas should encourage their babies to grow up to be instead of cowboys. His first(?) album, which I lost when my computer just totally ate shit and died, was recorded in a tunnel in Cherokee Park, and you can hear the crickets of summer in the background the entire time. You can also hear the cop that rousted him, but in any case, very good stuff.
As long as we're dropping mad MySpace music linx, check out these guys, who I found through this animated thing from Mr. Chen.
Sunday night, all of a sudden, it felt like someone had grabbed my back muscles and pulled. I took a shower and went to sleep, hoping that it would go away. INSTEAD, I woke up unable to move or even roll over without whimpering in pain. It was AWESOME. After throwing on clothes and occasionally falling down from pain, I went on a really long bus ride to a medical clinic that refused to take my Johnny American insurance and instead demanded $200 in cash. I called bullshit on that and instead bought some over the counter muscle relaxers and got on with my damn day. It feels better, but occasionally my back clinches like a fist. I really need a damn vacation.