Matthew Epperson

Austin City Limits by Matthew Epperson

This past Saturday night I watched my favorite show on Public Television. As always, it produced a perfect performance. I’ve never heard of Kacey Musgraves until now. Wow, she is a firecracker. Her voice was gentle and pitch perfect. She didn’t rely on a vabrato to get her to the note she needed to be at. And to top it all off, she did a little dance on her last song that was CUTE! I love her! I literally said that every time one of her songs ended.

The second performer was Willie Nelson’s son, Lucas Nelson. You want to talk about following in his father’s footsteps, this is the guy. He plays his guitar the same way his dad does, he hits the vabrato in the same fashion as his dad, and he even has the hair going on. Now, Im not a fan of the Willie sound, so I wasn’t that impressed with the goat-bahing vocals, or the wiggling guitar leads. However, they did bring a southern rock sound that the crowd thoroughly enjoyed.

I’ve given up on William Faulkner. I know, what’s wrong with me? He’s an American Classic, how can you give up on perfection? Well, allow me to explain: It’s his pronoun usage. I got halfway through As I Lay Dying and I wanted to throw the damn thing. His characters, which I honestly wasn’t impressed with the distinction of them, talked as if the reader was literally there and saw where they were pointing. True, I see the connection between the author and his readers, but GET OFF THE PRONOUNS!!! Use the proper noun for crying out loud. It was as if Faulkner was relying on the subliminal understanding of his readers to fill in the blanks. Maybe I’m the one with a problem, because people dont arrive at literary fame unblemished. Maybe I’m just heckling, but if this can make it, than I sure as hell shouldn’t have any problems. Blaspheme, I know.

Go see something live!

Matthew Epperson
DOC #284812

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