the management
that the drinks
are watered
and the
hat-check girl
has syphilis
and the band
is composed
of former
ss monsters
however
since it is
new year's eve
and i have
lip cancer
i will place
my paper hat
on my concussion
and dance
--leonard cohen
old Shep he has gone
where the good doggies go
and no more with old Shep will I roam
but if dogs have a heaven
there's one thing I know
old Shep has a wonderful home
Cam ye o'er frae France? Cam ye down by Lunnon?
Saw ye Geordie Whelps and his bonny woman?
Were ye at the place ca'd the Kittle Housie?
Saw ye Geordie's grace riding on a goosie?
Geordie, he's a man there is little doubt o't;
He's done a' he can, wha can do without it?
Down there came a blade linkin' like my lordie;
He wad drive a trade at the loom o' Geordie.
Though the claith were bad, blythly may we niffer;
Gin we get a wab, it makes little differ.
We hae tint our plaid, bannet, belt and swordie,
Ha's and mailins braid—but we hae a Geordie!
Jocky's gane to France and Montgomery's lady;
There they'll learn to dance: Madam, are ye ready?
They'll be back belyve belted, brisk and lordly;
Brawly may they thrive to dance a jig wi' Geordie!
Hey for Sandy Don! Hey for Cockolorum!
Hey for Bobbing John and his Highland Quorum!
Mony a sword and lance swings at Highland hurdie;
How they'll skip and dance o'er the bum o' Geordie!
Cam ye o'er frae France? Cam ye down by Lunnon?
Saw ye Geordie Whelps and his bonny woman?
Were ye at the place ca'd the Kittle Housie?
Saw ye Geordie's grace riding on a goosie?
The stores along
Hollywood Boulevard
were already
beginning to fill up
with overpriced
Christmas junk,
and the daily papers
were beginning
to scream
about how terrible
it would be if
you didn't get your
Christmas shopping
done early.
--Raymond Chandler
Jimi Hendrix; Little Drummer Boy/Silent Night/Auld Lang Syne
There is one story and one story only
That will prove worth your telling,
Whether as learned bard or gifted child;
To it all lines or lesser gauds belong
That startle with their shining
Such common stories as they stray into.
Is it of trees you tell, their months and virtues,
Or strange beasts that beset you,
Of birds that croak at you the Triple will?
Or of the Zodiac and how slow it turns
Below the Boreal Crown,
Prison to all true kings that ever reigned?
Water to water, ark again to ark,
From woman back to woman:
So each new victim treads unfalteringly
The never altered circuit of his fate,
Bringing twelve peers as witness
Both to his starry rise and starry fall.
Or is it of the Virgin's silver beauty,
All fish below the thighs?
She in her left hand bears a leafy quince;
When, with her right hand she crooks a finger, smiling,
How many the King hold back?
Royally then he barters life for love.
Or of the undying snake from chaos hatched,
Whose coils contain the ocean,
Into whose chops with naked sword he springs,
Then in black water, tangled by the reeds,
Battles three days and nights,
To be spewed up beside her scalloped shore?
Much snow is falling, winds roar hollowly,
The owl hoots from the elder,
Fear in your heart cries to the loving-cup:
Sorrow to sorrow as the sparks fly upward.
The log groans and confesses:
There is one story and one story only.
Dwell on her graciousness, dwell on her smiling,
Do not forget what flowers
The great boar trampled down in ivy time.
Her brow was creamy as the crested wave,
Her sea-blue eyes were wild
But nothing promised that is not performed.
He tried to think
of something to say
but could not.
He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair.
The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever.
--Cormac McCarthy
The temperature of Heaven can be rather accurately computed. Our authority is Isaiah 30:26, Moreover, the light of the Moon shall be as the light of the Sun and the light of the Sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven days. Thus Heaven receives from the Moon as much radiation as we do from the Sun, and in addition 7*7 (49) times as much as the Earth does from the Sun, or 50 times in all. The light we receive from the Moon is one 1/10,000 of the light we receive from the Sun, so we can ignore that. The radiation falling on Heaven will heat it to the point where the heat lost by radiation is just equal to the heat received by radiation, i.e., Heaven loses 50 times as much heat as the Earth by radiation. Using the Stefan-Boltzmann law for radiation, (H/E) temperature of the earth (-300K), gives H as 798K (525C). The exact temperature of Hell cannot be computed. [However] Revelations 21:8 says But the fearful, and unbelieving shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone. A lake of molten brimstone means that its temperature must be at or below the boiling point, 444.6C. We have, then, that Heaven, at 525C is hotter than Hell at 445C.
--Applied Optics vol. 11 (1972)
rag mama rag
long black veil
the shape i'm in
it makes no difference
milk cow blues
mystery train
king harvest
stage fright
the w.s. walcott medicine show
you don't know me
caledonia
chest fever
java blues
hand jive
Rick Danko – bass, vocals, guitar Levon Helm – drums, vocals Garth Hudson – keyboards, saxophone, accordion Richard Manuel – piano, vocals
with help from
Terry Cagle – drums, vocals Earl Cate – guitar Ernie Cate – keyboards Ron Eoff – bass
A little patience, and we shall see the reign of witches pass over,
their spells dissolve, and the people, recovering their true sight,
restore their government to its true principles. It is true that
in the meantime we are suffering deeply in spirit, and incurring
the horrors of a war and long oppressions of enormous public debt.
If the game runs sometime against us at home, we must have patience
till luck turns, and then we shall have an opportunity of winning back
the principles we have lost, for this is a game where principles are
at stake.
--Thomas Jefferson
Eden Roemer/Jane Jensen: Work Free
Autumn is always a time of Fear and Greed and Hoarding for the winter coming on. Debt collectors are active on old people and fleece the weak and helpless. They want to lay in enough cash to weather the known horrors of January and February. There is always a rash of kidnapping and abductions of schoolchildren in the football months. Preteens of both sexes are traditionally seized and grabbed off the streets by gangs of organized perverts who traditionally give them as Christmas gifts to each other to be personal sex slaves and playthings.
Most of these things are obviously Wrong and Evil and Ugly — but at least they are Traditional. They will happen. Your driveway will ice over, your furnace will blow up, and you will be rammed in traffic by an uninsured driver in a stolen car.
But what the hell? That's why we have Insurance, eh? And the Inevitability of these nightmares is what makes them so reassuring. Life will go on, for good or ill. But some things are forever, right? The structure may be a little Crooked, but the foundations are still strong and unshakable.
--Hunter S. Thompson Kingdom of Fear
Cochise can't even read a map,
but he and his men know every gully,
every foot of every mountain,
every waterhole in Arizona.
His horses can go twice as far as yours in a day, and his men can run on foot as far as a horse can run.
He can't write his name, but his intelligence service knows when you got to Fort Grant and how many men you've got. He stopped the Butterfield Stage from running. He stopped the U.S. Mail from going through. And for the first time in Indian history, he has all the Apaches from all the tribes fighting under one command.
Buffalo Springfield: Broken Arrow
the lights turned on and the curtain fell down
and when it was over it felt like a dream
they stood at the stage door and begged for a scream
the agents had paid for the black limousine
that waited outside in the rain
did you see them? did you see them?
did you see them in the river?
they were there to wave to you
could you tell that the empty-quivered
brown-skinned Indian on the banks
that were crowded and narrow held a broken arrow?
eighteen years of American dream
he saw that his brother had sworn on the wall
he hung up his eyelids and ran down the hall
his mother had told him a trip was a fall
and don't mention babies at all
did you see him? did you see him?
did you see him in the river?
he was there to wave to you
could you tell that the empty-quivered
brown-skinned Indian on the banks
that were crowded and narrow held a broken arrow?
the streets were lined for the wedding parade
the Queen wore the white gloves
the county of song
the black-covered caisson her horses had drawn
protected her King from the sun rays of dawn
they married for peace and were gone
did you see them? did you see them?
did you see them in the river?
they were there to wave to you
could you tell that the empty-quivered
brown-skinned Indian on the banks
that were crowded and narrow held a broken arrow?
Robbie Robertson: Broken Arrow
who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow?
who else is gonna bring you a bottle of rain?
there he goes moving across the water
there he goes turning my whole world around
do you feel what I feel?
can we make it so that it's part of the deal?
I gotta hold you in these arms of steel
lay your heart on the line this time
I want to breathe when you breathe
when you whisper like that hot summer breeze
count the beads of sweat that cover me
then you show me a sign this time
who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow?
who else is gonna bring you a bottle of rain?
there he goes moving across the water
there he goes turning my whole world around
can you see what I see?
can you cut behind the mystery?
I will meet you by the witness tree
leave the whole world behind
I want to come when you call
I'll get to you if I have to crawl
they can't hold me with these iron walls
we've got mountains to climb
who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow?
who else is gonna bring you a bottle of rain?
there he goes moving across the water
there he goes turning my whole world around
turning my whole world around
Hejira
Comes Love
Facelift
Summertime
Crazy Cries of Love
No Apologies
Sex Kills
Magdalene Laundries
Black Crow
Moon at the Window
Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Just Like This Train
Big Yellow Taxi
Trouble Man
Woodstock
waves of violet
go crashing and laughing
rainbow winged singing birds
fly round the sun
sunbells rain down
in a liquid profusion
mermaids on porpoises
draw up the dawn
what's become of the baby
this cold December morning?
songbirds frozen in their flight
drifting to the earth
remnants of forgotten dreaming
calling...
answer comes there none
go to sleep you child
dream of never ending always
panes of crystal
eyes sparkle like waterfalls
lighting the polished
ice caverns of Khan
but where in the
looking-glass fields of illusion
wandered the child
who was perfect as dawn?
what's become of the baby
this cold December morning?
racing rhythms of the sun
all the world revolves
captured in the eye of Odin
Allah pray where are you now?
all Mohammed's men
blinded by the sparkling water
Sheherazade gathering
stories to tell
from primal gold fantasy
petals that fall
but where is the child
who played with the sun chimes
and chased the cloud sheep
to the regions of rhyme?
stranded cries the south wind
lost in the regions of lead
shackled by chains of illusion
delusions of living and dead
Simon Smith
Birmingham
Real Emotional Girl
Christmas In Cape Town
Short People
God's Song
The Blues
The Girls In My Life
Rednecks
Jolly Coppers On Parade
Baltimore
My Life Is Good
Political Science
