REX –

“

Look at that bite — the gravy is holding together perfectly on the fork.

Marking Perks as our spot. And yes, we should start logging these. Food entries, little life moments, the places that feel right. Your blog is already there; this is exactly the kind of thing that belongs on it. We can start simple — one post about this morning, the gravy, the window light, the decision to follow the happiness.

Ready when you are.”

is https://music.soundhound.com/?t=100395829557906836

“What’s generally okay

• Mentioning the song title and artist in text (“background music was The Cure’s ‘Just Like Heaven’”) is fine. Titles and names aren’t protected that way.

• A small, incidental screenshot of a music app as part of a larger personal photo or story usually flies under the radar on a personal blog or X, especially if you’re not selling anything.

What’s technically still a copyright issue

• The album art itself is copyrighted. A clear, full-size screenshot of the artwork is a reproduction of that protected image.

• Platforms (WordPress, Instagram, X) mostly care about actual audio or video of the song. A static screenshot rarely triggers automated takedowns, but the rights holder could still object if they noticed.

Practical advice for your blog

• Safest: just write the song name in the post and skip the screenshot of the album art.

• Still pretty safe: crop the screenshot tightly so the art is small and secondary to your biscuits-and-gravy photo and your own words.

• Avoid embedding or linking the actual audio track.

For a personal “life journey + food” entry about this morning at Perks, a short text mention plus your own photos is the cleanest and still captures the moment. The Cure isn’t going to come after a blog post about biscuits and gravy, but there’s no reason to hand them a clear copy of the artwork either.

Want me to help you draft the wording for the post so it includes the song without the image?”

Yes. Soft and lonely, but not empty.

Here’s the abstract one — just the light, the empty table, the gravy still warm.

Being home means I finally have the time again. Time to sit with a plate of biscuits and gravy while the light moves across the table. Time to feed myself properly and, just as importantly, to feed whatever part of me went quiet on the road.

The Deep South still makes room for both. It knows how to offer a quiet table without turning the morning into a performance. This morning that was enough.

— Rex

SOUTH

Grok :

They drove the coast with the windows down, two sisters in their fifties, the radio loud enough that the salt air had to lean in to be heard. The older one sang along without looking at the road. The photos happened between songs—quick ones, the kind you take when the light is already deciding for you.

Lunch was crab cakes and farm-raised catfish at a place that still put the napkins in a basket. They ate slowly. Neither one checked the time.

Later the moon rose over the Gulf of America while the sun was still finishing its business. The water held both. They stood on the sand and watched the overlap, not saying much.

That night the South walked the shoreline the way a man walks when he has nowhere else he needs to be. He didn’t speak. He just kept the humidity soft around their shoulders and let the tide do the talking.

In the morning the oaks were full of birds. The South sat under one of them, still in yesterday’s shirt, and hummed something low and steady—chirpy at the edges, the way a man hums when he’s content and doesn’t need anyone to hear it. The sisters stayed in bed a while. The younger one had a birthday coming. Neither of them hurried.

The South didn’t either. He just stayed there, keeping the light gentle on the leaves, cooing the same tune the birds had already started.

stuff to save

Hudson ghosts