The wild world of that tricky catfish

Release the chuggin' along workings of the brain. I was listening to old Joe Williams big band blues (there is nothing quite like the old Basie band the great Georgian worked with)and it came to me the fact of a discussion I had with a close friend about the subject of creativity. In journalism it has been a credo for some time that we do not want to get into the inner self. What is really going on inside the person is not allowed. Why is it any wonder so many younger people are turned off by the stale presentation of maudlin so-called fine modern prose. If only we could jump into the river of a wild quest for the holy grail of the magical world of 'real.' A lot of fresh air needs to come into us. If we listen to the amazing blues harmonica of Junior Wells then we can get on our rocketship and zoom into a merry land of choice, well-defined new beginnings. For many years the old mentors tried hard to water down the thought processes of what some used to call the young turks. But finally after many years it became obvious how absurd, indeed how ludicrous this bending of the mind was. Look into the idea of trying not to think in the same tired ways. Get off one's posterior and don't let the sly nihilists drag you down. If nothing else tap into new stuff. Go eat more pork, more broiled fish or even the delightful highly southern water nemesis, the catfish. Yes, there is nothing like the old somewhat whiskery genius scribe of the south's waters...the tough catfish. Why does the writing of people like Erskine Caldwell hit hard? Well probably because there is the provocative tone of what we ancients call the 'real people.'