An Unreasonable Man

Blood and Fire

2011-10-16T06:20:00.000-07:00

I have spent nights with matches and knives,Leaning over ledges, only two flights up.Cutting my heart, burning my soul.Nothing left to hold,Nothing left but, blood and fire. You have spent nights, thinking of me,Missing my arms, but you needed to leave.Leaving my cuts, leaving my burns,Hoping I'd learn. Blood and fireAre too much for these restless arms to hold.And my nights of desire are calling me,Back to your fold.And I am calling you, calling you from 10,000 miles awayWon't you wet my fire with your love, babe? I am looking for someone, who can take as much as I give,Give back as much as I need,And still have the will to live.I am intense, I am in need,I am in pain, I am in love.I feel forsaken, like the things I gave away. Blood and fireAre too much for these restless arms to hold.And my nights of desire are calling me,Back to your fold.And I am calling you, calling you from 10,000 miles awayWon't you wet my fire with your love, babe? I am intense, I am in need, I am in pain, I am in love.I am intense, I am in need, I am in pain, I am in love.I am intense, I am in need, I am in pain, I am in love. Blood and fireAre too much for these restless arms to hold.And my nights of desire are calling me,Back to your fold.And I am calling you, calling you from 10,000 miles awayWon't you wet my fire with your love, babe?

Oh Jesus!

2011-10-10T07:36:00.000-07:00

I don't know where this happened, and should warn that it is VERY difficult to watch, but...

Be Here to Love Me Today

2011-10-04T08:05:00.001-07:00

The Church of 80% Sincerity

2011-10-03T13:16:00.001-07:00

Test Post

2011-10-03T12:01:00.001-07:00

For some unknown reason, I have been unable to post to this blog for some time -- gave up trying for many months, but decided to try again.

For the sake of the song

2010-01-06T15:50:00.001-08:00

From For the Sake of the Song: LINK

"Was I ever in love? I called it love... I mean, it felt like love,
There were moments when, well, there were moments when..."

Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?

2009-05-22T10:14:00.000-07:00

Took the quiz on Facebook with the following results -- perhaps any of you who know me can comment as to its accuracy:

You have Antisocial Personality Disorder. You are extremely manipulative and you couldn't care less about other peoples' feelings, rights, or safety. You'll often go to extremes to exploit others to reach your own personal goals--even if it means murder--and you never feel even a grain of regret about it. The scary part is that people often see you as charming and charismatic, which makes it much easier for you to manipulate and exploit them until you are satisfied. Congratulations, you would fit in with the most famous of serial killers!.

Music by the Neurotic Kites

2009-05-20T14:14:00.000-07:00

Perhaps not the genre of music to which I most frequently listen, but this is by a friend of mine in Barcelona. Let me know what you think:

Neurotic Kites

New Music from Deckthree

2009-05-19T10:31:00.000-07:00

Not sure where I happened to stumble across his music, but some good stuff:

RIP Stephen Bruton

2009-05-19T07:12:00.000-07:00

I mostly knew of Stephen from his frequent playing with Kris Kristofferson, but he was an accomplished songwriter and performer on his own as well.

Just learned that he died recently of throat cancer. LINK

Stephen playing with Kris:

The Heavy Metal Continental

2009-04-26T13:11:00.001-07:00

New from Neil Young

About his alternative fuel Lincoln Continental.

Perhaps not among his more artistically successful works, but....

I Ain't in the Mood for Sunshine Anyway

2009-04-25T11:39:00.000-07:00

It's plain to see, the sun won't shine today
But I ain't in the mood for sunshine anyway
Maybe I'll go insane
I got to stop the pain
Or maybe I'll go down to see Kathleen.

A swallow comes and tells me of her dreams
She says she'd like to know just what they mean
I feel like I could die
As I watch her flying by
Ride the north wind down to see Kathleen.

Stars hang high above, the oceans roar
The moon is come to lead me to her door
There's crystal across the sand
And the waves, they take my hand.
Soon I'm gonna see my sweet Kathleen.

Soon I'm gonna see my sweet Kathleen.

2009-04-14T13:24:00.001-07:00

I'm Your Man

2009-03-24T16:34:00.000-07:00

As a big fan of Leonard Cohen, I am not sure how I had missed seeing this when it came out about 4 years ago, but I did somehow. Just happened to see it at the local library yesterday so checked it out.

Heartily recommend it for anyone who likes his music.

I see most of the movie is available on youtube, so if you don't wanna look for it at Blockbuster or Netflix, here it is -- albeit in peicemeal fashion

Runaway Train

2009-03-19T10:41:00.000-07:00

If there was ever an example of a runaway train, this BOTF thread would seem to be that.

358 posts and apparently still growing. A perfect example of what has gone so wrong with that forum.....

The Perfect Wedding Ceremony

2009-03-17T11:59:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Claude Scales for this:

A Museum for Dicks

2009-03-16T08:38:00.000-07:00

Leo and Loudon

2009-02-14T14:16:00.000-08:00

About a week ago, I was bemoaning the fact that I was gonna miss the Leo Kottke and Loudon Wainwright III concert being held tonight in Park City, because my wife and I would be in Virginia for a job interview. But a couple of days ago, that interview was moved to next week.

Anyway, this morning, when I opened the Valentine's Day card from my wife, inside were tickets for the concert tonight!

Famous Blue Raincoat

2009-01-04T10:43:00.001-08:00

Crazy Train

2009-01-02T07:18:00.000-08:00

Posting this video mostly because the musician happens to be my wife's 12-year-old nephew. Pretty impressive, although it is not really my musical genre so perhaps I don't know whether it really is any good....

Sunday Hymn

2008-12-30T15:53:00.000-08:00

Originally Posted 9/14/08 at Age of Reason:

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

I know a man
He came from my home town
He wore his passion for his woman
Like a thorny crown
He said Dolores
I live in fear
My love for you's so overpowering
I'm afraid that I will disappear

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

I know a woman
Became a wife
These are the very words she uses
To describe her life
She said a good day
Ain't got no rain
She said a bad day's when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

And I know a fa-ther
Who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons
For the things he'd done
He came a long way
Just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and headed home again

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

God only knows
God makes his plan
The information's unavailable
To the mortal man
We're working our jobs
Collect our pay
Believe we're gliding down the highway
When in fact we're slip slidin' away

Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away

Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination
The more you're slip slidin' away
Mmm...

Just Like a Woman

2008-12-30T15:49:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 8/16/08 at Age of Reason:

When I Was Young

2008-12-30T15:46:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 8/16/08 at Age of Reason:

My faith was so much stronger then
I believed in fellow men
And I was so much older then
When I was young
When I was young
When I was young

Beautiful Agony

2008-12-30T15:40:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 3/23/08 at Age of Reason:

play windows media

play quicktime

beautifulagony.com

3 comments:
catnapping said...
allergy season? i remember sneezing 17 times in a row, once...

March 25, 2008 1:46 PM
Thomas Paine said...
That is not fair. Men can't do it that quickly in succession -- even when I was young, 2-3 in quick succession was about all I could muster.

March 25, 2008 5:46 PM
catlin said...
i'd give it all up just to be able to pee standing up.

March 25, 2008 5:57 PM

Love Song to a Stranger

2008-12-30T15:37:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 3/17/08 at Age of Reason:

- Joan Baez

How long since I've spent a whole night in a twin bed with a stranger
His warm arms all around me?
How long since I've gazed into dark eyes that melted my soul down
To a place where it longs to be?
All of your history has little to do with your face
You're mainly a mystery with violins filling in space

You stood in the nude by the mirror and picked out a rose
From the bouquet in our hotel
And lay down beside me again and I watched the rose
On the pillow where it fell
I sank and I slept in a twilight with only one care
To know that when day broke and I woke that you'd still be there

The hours for once they passed slowly, unendingly by
Like a sweet breeze on a field
Your gentleness came down upon me and I guess I thanked you
When you caused me to yield
We spoke not a sentence and took not a footstep beyond
Our two days together which seemingly soon would be gone

Don't tell me of love everlasting and other sad dreams
I don't want to hear
Just tell me of passionate strangers who rescue each other
From a lifetime of cares
Because if love means forever, expecting nothing returned
Then I hope I'll be given another whole lifetime to learn

Because you gave to me oh so many things it makes me wonder
How they could belong to me
And I gave you only my dark eyes that melted your soul down
To a place where it longs to be

© 1972 Chandos Music (ASCAP)

Love Song to a Stranger Pt II

They brought me a beautiful basket of fruit
And two finger bowls of glass
The couch is gold with a floral design
And the wine is Germany's best
And the wine is Germany's best

My thoughts drift ino the frozen night
Frankfurt is covered with snow
And numbly they ride on an icy wind
To places they're longing to go
To places they're longing to go

I remember the tall dark Irish rose
Who held me in my limousine
And slept with me under a burgundy quilt
With sheets of silk in between
Well, anyway, that's how it seemed

I thought I wanted to marry him
His face was sculpted by God
His words were gentle and ever so true
And soft as the Irish fog
And lost in the Irish fog

I remember the boy from the monastery
Who wanted to be a monk
But he brought flowers and wine to my room
And we both got happily drunk
And we both got perfectly drunk

He laughed like the chimes of a silver bell
His eyes were alexandrite blue
He danced the t'ai chi with the grace of a deer
And I wanted to marry him too
Yes I wanted to marry him too

There was that son of a dog from the Tennessee hills
Kept telling me I was still young
He spoke in pure southern and smoothed out the lines
Round my eyes saying I was the one
Forever that I'd be the one

He drank and he cussed and he wrote his own songs
He was very much on the go
We followed each other for over a year
I couldn't have married him though
So we just lived in sin on the road

There was that black eyed beauty from Boston town
Two days were never too long
He stood by the mirror and picked out a rose
But I already wrote him a song
Yes, I already wrote him a song

So here I sit with my basket of fruit
And two finger bowls of glass
I finished my bottle of Germany's best
And concluded my thoughts on the past
That love is a pain in the ass

Van Morrison

2008-12-30T15:35:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 3/9/08 at Age of Reason:

Van doesn't often allow his videos to stay up at YouTube for long, so I don't know how long these links will be good. All of these were recorded live at the Ryman:

Till I take Control Again

There Stands the Glass

Playhouse

Bobby McGee in Italian

2008-12-30T15:28:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/27/08 at Age of Reason:

And an older, more rocking version:

GIANNA NANNINI - SUICIDIO D'AMORE

2008-12-30T15:25:00.001-08:00

Originally posted 2/27/08 at Age of Reason:

'52 Vincent Black Lightning

2008-12-30T15:21:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/25/08 at Age of Reason:

Beyond all doubt the best motorcycle song ever.

"....red hair and black leather are my favorite colour scheme"

Oh says Red Molly to James "That's a fine motorbike.
A girl could feel special on any such like"
Says James to Red Molly "My hat's off to you
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952.
And I've seen you at the corners and cafes it seems
Red hair and black leather, my favourite colour scheme"
And he pulled her on behind and down to Boxhill they did ride
Oh says James to Red Molly "Here's a ring for your right hand
But I'll tell you in earnest I'm a dangerous man.
For I've fought with the law since I was seventeen,
I robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine.
Now I'm 21 years, I might make 22
And I don't mind dying, but for the love of you.
And if fate should break my stride
Then I'll give you my Vincent to ride"

"Come down, come down, Red Molly" called Sergeant McRae
"For they've taken young James Adie for armed robbery.
Shotgun blast hit his chest, left nothing inside.
Oh come down, Red Molly to his dying bedside"
When she came to the hospital, there wasn't much left
He was running out of road, he was running out of breath
But he smiled to see her cry
He said "I'll give you my Vincent to ride"

Says James "In my opinion, there's nothing in this world
Beats a 52 Vincent and a red headed girl.
Now Nortons and Indians and Greeves won't do,
Ah, they don't have a soul like a Vincent 52"
Oh he reached for her hand and he slipped her the keys
Said "I've got no further use for these.
I see angels on Ariels in leather and chrome,
Swooping down from heaven to carry me home"
And he gave her one last kiss and died
And he gave her his Vincent to ride.

Til I Gain Control Again

2008-12-30T15:13:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/22/08 at Age of Reason:
Fuck, the recording by Van Morrison has been pulled for copyright infringement!

A beautiful performance of a beautiful song:

Link to YouTube

Just like the sun over the mountain top
You know i'll always come again
You know i love to spend my morning time
Like sunlight dancing on your skin
I've never gone so wrong as to telling lies to you
What you've seen is what I've been
There is nothing I could hide from you
You see me better than I can
Out on the road that lies before me now
There are some turns where I will spin
I only hope that you can hold me now
Till i can gain control again

Like a lighthouse you must stand alone
Landmark the sailor's journeys end
No matter what sea I've have been sailing on
I'll always roll this way again
Out on the road that lies before me now
There are some turns where I will spin
I only hope that you can hold me now
Till i can gain control again

Rodney Crowell

Crystal Gayle

Because of

2008-12-30T15:10:00.000-08:00

Originally Posted 2/20/08 at Age of Reason:

Because of a few songs
Wherein I spoke of their mystery,
Women have been
Exceptionally kind
to my old age.
They make a secret place
In their busy lives
And they take me there.
They become naked
In their different ways
and they say,
"Look at me, Leonard
Look at me one last time."
Then they bend over the bed
And cover me up
Like a baby that is shivering.

Leonard Cohen

This Made Me Blow Coffee out my Nose!

2008-12-30T15:07:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/20/08 at Age of Reason:

2 comments:
booby-breasted avatar said...
no comments?

heeeeeeeeeeee.

February 22, 2008 1:01 PM
Thomas Paine said...
As someone who was somewhat of a math geek in school, and one who claims some expertise in cunnilingus, I am surprised that I never thought to apply mathmatics to that topic!

February 24, 2008 4:46 PM

Two Days in Paris

2008-12-30T15:03:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/18/08 at Age of Reason:

Thanks to Sullivan for this clip. We apparently have some similar tastes in movies, as I also loved Before Sunset and Before Sunrise.

I have to make it a point to see this when (if) it ever comes to the local theater.

Who By Fire

2008-12-30T15:00:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/17/08 at Age of Reason:

And who by fire, who by water,
who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
who in your merry merry month of may,
who by very slow decay,
and who shall I say is calling?
And who in her lonely slip, who by barbiturate,
who in these realms of love, who by something blunt,
and who by avalanche, who by powder,
who for his greed, who for his hunger,
and who shall I say is calling?

And who by brave assent, who by accident,
who in solitude, who in this mirror,
who by his lady's command, who by his own hand,
who in mortal chains, who in power,
and who shall I say is calling?

Amazing performance of this -- with accompaniment of sax great Sonny Rollins

The Hallelujah Tapes

2008-12-30T14:56:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/17/08 at Age of Reason:

"It's, as I say, a desire to affirm my faith in life, not in some formal religious way but with enthusiasm, with emotion.... It's a rather joyous song." ~ Leonard Cohen

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well, it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, baby, I've been here before.
I've seen this room, and I've walked this floor.
I used to live alone before I knew you.
But I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
And love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it is a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, there was a time when you'd let me know
What's really going on below,
But now you never show that to me, do you?
But remember when I moved in you,
And the Holy Ghost was moving too,
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, maybe there is a God above,
But all that I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.
It's not a cry that you hear at night,
And it is not somebody who has seen the light
It's a cold and it is a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Then, to two alternative versions by the Crow[e] Sisters -- Allison (Crowe) and Cheryl (Crow) -- both of which are very nice:

And this powerful version from KD Lang is one of my favorite covers:

This one by Jeff Buckley features some beautiful guitar work:

And this acoustic version from Bon Jovi:

Ne Me Quitte Pas

2008-12-30T14:50:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/17/08 at Age of Reason:
Fuck, the videos have been removed. I will try find replacements if possible.

Thanks Dawn Coyote

Chocolate Orgasm - A Late Valentine

2008-12-30T14:47:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/16/08 at Age of Reason:

Tongue slides to the sliver

of strawberry pink,

Peeking through the smooth dark

chocolate surface

(you can see why I do not often write poetry!)

2 comments:
Archaeopteryx said...
Hey...you're not talking about strawberries here, are you?

February 19, 2008 5:08 PM
Thomas Paine said...
Well, it could be!

It actually was inspired by having seen chocolate covered strawberries being prepared for Valentine's day. The pastry chef was hand dipping the berries and I noted one where a slash of pink/red was showing (I think the chocolate cracked as it cooled) -- and if you have ever made love with a black woman (or have ever viewed an ebony porn site), you can probably imagine what it looked like to me!

February 19, 2008 8:34 PM

Just Cause I Like It!

2008-12-30T14:44:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/11/08 at Age of Reason:

Chelsea Hotel #2 - More by Leonard Cohen

2008-12-30T14:40:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/10/08 at Age of Reason:

Now playing on my computer:

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music."

And then you got away, didn't you babe...

I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can't keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that's all, I don't even think of you that often

The Sound of Silence

2008-12-30T14:38:00.001-08:00

Originally posted 2/10/08 at Age of Reason:

Head this read (to piano accompanyment) as part of the services at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship this morning -- had not seriously considered this for years, but it fit perfectly with the speakers message:

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach to you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
in the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets

are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls."
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.

-- Paul Simon

The Hole

2008-12-30T14:28:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/8/08 at Age of Reason:

The old woman finally caught me
Sneakin' 'round her cave
Her hair looked just like barbwire, boys
and her smile just like the grave

She asked me could I stay awhile
I said I'd better go
She slid her arm around my neck
and sweetly whispered no

It's cold and dark and lonely here
as soon enough you'll see
I'm oh so glad you stumbled in
I've been cravin' company

I cannot stay too long you know
I left some friends at home
Don't you fret about your friends
Down here we're all alone

What about my mother
I can't just leave her there to mourn
You don't have to think about her
Just forget you were ever born

I'll disappoint my father
you know he worked so hard for me
If you have to pay your father back
Just send him some misery

I'll miss, I said, a girl I know
I can't just leave there to pine
she's still got plenty of men to go
I'm sure she'll do just fine

What about my little boy
She said, he's just like you
Let a few short years roll by
He'll end up down here too

Then her pale green eyes began to glow
she placed her hand on mine
she smiled and said don't worry
you'll get used to me in time

As her cold tongue flickered toward
I spun myself around
made a dive for the passageway
but the walls come crashing down

Now her eyes were the only light
my fevered brain could see
but I tore myself away from them
and fell down to my knees

I've come too far, I can't get back
I beseeched the Gods of men
fame and fortune just laughed at me
then silence once again

A whisper deep within
embrace the God of Love
I lifted my face and through the tears
I saw light fall from above

I hurled myself into the wall
I ripped and clawed my way
through the stinkin', clingin' loam
back to the light of day

I crawled out into the wind again
the sky upon my face
I heard the earth sigh patiently
as it slid back into place

Now I'm back among the ones I love
I'm loved by them in turn
and it's only on the darkest night
that green eyed memory burns

So walk my friends, in the light of day
don't go sneakin' 'round no holes
there just might be something down there
wants to gobble up your soul

Townes van Zandt

So Fucking Alone

2008-12-30T14:26:00.001-08:00

Originally posted 2/7/08 at Age of Reason:

In the words of the inimitable Lucinda Williams:

You say there's always gonna be this thing
Between us days are filled with dreams
Scorpions crawl across my screen
Make their home beneath my skin
Underneath my dress stick their tongues
Bite through the flesh down to the bone
And I have been so fuckin' alone
Since those three days

Did you only want me for those three days?
Did you only need me for those three days?
Did you love me forever
just for those three days?

You built a nest inside my soul
You rest your head on leaves of gold
You managed to crawl inside my brain
You found a hole and in you came
You sleep like a baby breathing
Comfortably between truth and pain
But the truth is nothing's been the same
Since those three days

Did you only want me for those three days?
Did you only need me for those three days?
Did you love me forever
just for those three days?

You say there's always gonna be this thing
Between us days are filled with dreams
Scorpions crawl across my screen
Make their home beneath my skin
Underneath my dress stick their tongues
Bite through the flesh down to the bone
And I have been so fuckin' alone
You built a nest inside my soul
You rest your head on leaves of gold
You managed to crawl inside my brain
You found a hole and in you came
You sleep like a baby breathing
Comfortably between truth and pain
But the truth is nothing's been the same
Since those three days

Did you only want me for those three days?
Did you only need me for those three days?
Did you love me forever
just for those three days, baby?

Did you only want me for those three days?
Did you only need me for those three days?
Did you love me forever
just for those three days?

For those three days

For those three days

Country Songs by Les Visable

2008-12-30T14:16:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 1/19/08 at Age of Reason:

This was posted at Slate and I really liked it.

Artist: Les Visible

I Don't Love You Anymore

Then You Let Go

Peace

I DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE

There are sweet dreams and visions and nightmares
There are dishes piled up in the sink
And though I know it will only destroy me
I am badly in need of a drink

Some people spend their whole lives in prison
For just what you are doing to me
And If I am going to die with my pants down
Then I know which end of me you will see

Call all the radio stations
The talking heads on TV
Ring out the bells from the ship to the shore
To say I don’t love you any more

I worshipped the ground that you walked on
I was glad it was holding you up
If I had only known what was coming
Then I would have been wearing a cup

Well you’ve broken my heart for the last time
I know that I have said that before
No one’s ever come this close to ending my life
So darling I don’t love you any more

CHORUS

I got some small satisfaction
When you gave my friends venereal disease
And I suppose that I should be grateful
That you weren’t sleeping with me

They say that there’s one born every minute
So then I’ve done more than my share of time
And I just hope you don’t have a sister
Waiting for me further down this line

CHORUS

PEACE

If I don't get to sing you
a private serenade
I hope you know I wanted to
it would have made my day

To hold you close as close could be
until there's only one
If only for a little while
it would have made me young

There's a silken fountain
There's a deep release
And if I don't get to show it to you
Then may I wish you peace

If I don't get to kiss you
Ah that would be so sad
It feels like I am supposed to
like I already have

Life is suck a mystery
so deep and so profound
Like looking in your eyes
And watching myself drown

Repeat Chorus

If I don't get to feed you
I hope that you get fed
I wish you all the finest
and blessings on your head

Somewhere we are together
if only in my mind
But I just keep believing
I know what I will find

Repeat Chorus

ADDENDEM: Les tells me he cannot keep those links up for too long, so if they no longer work, that is the reason.

Altarwise by Owl-light

2008-12-30T14:07:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 1/19/08 at Age of Reason:

Altarwise by owl-light in the half-way house
The gentleman lay graveward with his furies;
Abaddon in the hangnail cracked from Adam,
And, from his fork, a dog among the fairies,
The atlas-eater with a jaw for news,
Bit out the mandrake with to-morrows scream.
Then, penny-eyed, that gentlemen of wounds,
Old cock from nowheres and the heaven's egg,
With bones unbuttoned to the half-way winds,
Hatched from the windy salvage on one leg,
Scraped at my cradle in a walking word
That night of time under the Christward shelter:
I am the long world's gentlemen, he said,
And share my bed with Capricorn and Cancer.

Death is all metaphors, shape in one history;
The child that sucketh long is shooting up,
The planet-ducted pelican of circles
Weans on an artery the genders strip;
Child of the short spark in a shapeless country
Soon sets alight a long stick from the cradle;
The horizontal cross-bones of Abaddon,
You by the cavern over the black stairs,
Rung bone and blade, the verticals of Adam,
And, manned by midnight, Jacob to the stars.
Hairs of your head, then said the hollow agent,
Are but the roots of nettles and feathers
Over the groundowrks thrusting through a pavement
And hemlock-headed in the wood of weathers.

First there was the lamb on knocking knees
And three dead seasons on a climbing grave
That Adam's wether in the flock of horns,
Butt of the tree-tailed worm that mounted Eve,
Horned down with skullfoot and the skull of toes
On thunderous pavements in the garden of time;
Rip of the vaults, I took my marrow-ladle
Out of the wrinkled undertaker's van,
And, Rip Van Winkle from a timeless cradle,
Dipped me breast-deep in the descending bone;
The black ram, shuffling of the year, old winter,
Alone alive among his mutton fold,
We rung our weathering changes on the ladder,
Said the antipodes, and twice spring chimed.

What is the metre of the dictionary?
The size of genesis? the short spark's gender?
Shade without shape? the shape of the Pharaohs echo?
(My shape of age nagging the wounded whisper.)
Which sixth of wind blew out the burning gentry?
(Questions are hunchbacks to the poker marrow.)
What of a bamboo man amomg your acres?
Corset the boneyards for a crooked boy?
Button your bodice on a hump of splinters,
My camel's eyes will needle through the shroud.
Loves reflection of the mushroom features,
Still snapped by night in the bread-sided field,
Once close-up smiling in the wall of pictures,
Arc-lamped thrown back upon the cutting flood.

Dylan Thomas

When I Die

2008-12-30T14:02:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 1/18/08 at Age of Reason

Hadn't thought of this song in years, but a discussion on the afterlife (or lack thereof) on Slate's Faith-Based made me think of the Blood, Sweat and Tears version of this great song by the late, much lamented, Laura Nyro:

I'm not scared of dyin'
And I don't really care
If it's peace you find in dyin'
Well then let the time be near
Just bundle up my coffin
'Cause its cold way down there
And when I die
And when I'm gone
There'll be one child born
And a world to carry on

My troubles are many
They're deep as a well
I swear there ain't no heaven
And I pray there ain't no hell
But I'll never know by livin'
Only my dyin' will tell
And when I die
And when I'm gone
There'll be one child born
And a world to carry on

Give me my freedom
For as long as I be
All I ask of livin'
Is to have no chains on me
All I ask of livin'
Is to have no chains on me
And all I ask of dyin'
Is to go naturally
And when I die
And when I'm gone
There'll be one child born
And a world to carry on

4 comments:
Thomas Paine said...
More by Laura Nyro:

New York Tendaberry

Blue berry
A rush on rum
Of brush and drum
And the past is a blue note
Inside me
I ran away in the morning

New York tendaberry
Blue berry
Rugs and drapes and drugs
And capes
Sweet kids in hunger slums
Firecrackers break
And they cross
And they dust
And they skate
And the night comes

I ran away in the morning

Now I'm back
Unpacked
Sidewalk and pigeon
You look like a city
But you feel like a religion
To me

New York tendabery
True berry
I lost my eyes
I east wind skies
Here where I've cried
Where I've tried
Where God and the tendaberry rise
Where quakers and revolutionaries
Join for life
For precious years
Joined for life
Through silver tears

New York tendaberry

January 18, 2008 8:14 PM
Thomas Paine said...
On the same theme, this written in her memory:

Portrait of a Tendaberry Girl

I get a flame in my heart
Every time I hear the voice of reverie

It’s been alive from the start

I can tell you as she comes down to surry,

From Central Park westward

To Broadway and East 3rd

The Goth looking girl’s still there,

I will drink a toast to Eli

With some red and yellow wine

It’s gonna take a miracle now

To find a Tendaberry rhyme,

I can see the thunder’s fury

In her passion eyes of May

And when I die throw trains of blossoms

The New York,

Tendaberry way;

Laura

I get a pain in my heart
Just to think she’ll never write one more song

And she was chic from the start

Laura

Even when the business did her so wrong,

As music keeps changing

Her soul is raging

You better hide your hearts,

I will drink a toast to Billy

With some red and yellow wine

It’s gonna take a miracle now

To find a Tendaberry rhyme,

I can see the thunder’s fury

In her passion eyes of May

And when I die throw trains of blossoms

The New York,

Tendaberry way;

From slow dance to romance

An adolescent fantasy

It would have been my honor then

Just to walk with her through NYC,

I get a flame in my heart
Every time I hear the voice of reverie

It’s been alive from the start

Laura
I can tell you as she comes down to surry,

Critics are scheming

Websites are screaming

Stop analyzing her,

I will drink a toast to Eli

With some red and yellow wine

It’s gonna take a miracle now

To find a Tendaberry rhyme,

I can see the thunder’s fury

In her passion eyes of May

And when I die throw trains of blossoms

The New York,

Tendaberry way;

I will drink a toast in gladness

To her passion eyes of May

And when I die throw trains of blossoms

The New York,

Tendaberry way,

Evermore to hear her play

The New York,

Tendaberry way;

Composed, arranged and produced by Stephen Foglia

Copyright 2006

Ramblood Publishing Co.,/BMI

Ramblood Recon Records

January 18, 2008 8:29 PM
Primate said...
Always loved "Christmas in My Soul" - the war in the song is Viet-Nam, but sadly enough, the lyrics still work:

Come young braves
Come young children
Come to the book of love with me
Respect your brothers and your sisters
Come to the book of love
I know it ain't easy
But we're gonna look for a better day
Come young braves
Come young children.

I love my country as it dies
In war and pain before my eyes
I walk the streets where disrespect has been
The sins of politics, the politics of sin
The heartlessness that darkens my soul
On Christmas.

Red and silver on the leaves
Fallen white snow runs softly through the trees
Madonnas weep for wars of hell
They blow out the candles and haunt Noel
The missing love that rings through the work
On Christmas.

Black panther brothers bound in jail
Chicago seven and the justice scale
Homeless Indian on Manhattan Isle
All God's sons have gone to trial
And all God's love is out of style
On Christmas.

Christmas in my soul
Christmas in my soul
Christmas in my soul.

January 19, 2008 8:43 AM
Thomas Paine said...
Thanks for that, Primate, and glad you found your way here.

I realize that I do not have any Laura Nyro in digital format. I have to remedy that.

Now to prioritize what albums to acquire....

January 19, 2008 10:59 AM

Sisters of Mercy

2008-12-30T13:52:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/7/08 at Age of Reason:

You know who you are:

By Leonard Cohen

Oh the sisters of mercy they are not
Departed or gone,
They were waiting for me when I thought
That I just can't go on,
And they brought me their comfort
And later they brought me this song.
Oh I hope you run into them
You who've been traveling so long.

Yes, you who must leave everything
That you cannot control;
It begins with your family,
But soon it comes round to your soul.
Well, Ive been where you're hanging
I think I can see how you're pinned.
When you're not feeling holy,
Your loneliness says that you've sinned.

Well they lay down beside me
I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes
And I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf
That the seasons tear off and condemn
They will bind you with love
That is graceful and green as a stem.

When I left they were sleeping,
I hope you run into them soon.
Don't turn on the light
You can read their address by the moon;
And you won't make me jealous
If I hear that they sweeten your night
We weren't lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right
We weren't lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right.

Tangled up in Blues, Installment V

2008-12-30T13:47:00.000-08:00

Previously posted (2/8/08) at Age of Reason

An ongoing series.

Early Installments

Part III

Part IV

Ahhh, Cookie.

The one I let get away.

Cookie worked in Accounts Payable for a real estate development company in North Hollywood. I was working for the corporate office. I was spending a few weeks in North Hollywood preparing for a tax audit, and my office was next to hers.

Cookie was possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever known. She was tall (perhaps 5' 9") -- much of this legs -- with flawless dark chocolate skin. Some casual flirting led to more, and we spent a few evenings together. It was a real ego trip eating at one of the trendy restaurants on Sunset Strip and having movie agents interrupting our meal trying to get her phone number. Cookie was a great singer and had done back up vocals on several records but was refusing to get into that life herself.

I spent quite a bit of time with her over a period of 5-8 months, shortly after divorcing my first wife, and I would easily have fallen deeply in love with her, which would have been exactly the wrong thing to to at that time, but I was really upset when she got pregnant and decided to marry the baby's father instead of me (I tried to convince her that I might be the baby's daddy, but unfortunately I had already mentioned that I had had a vasectomy -- what in the Hell did I do that for?

But I did really enjoy the time we spent in her neighborhood in Watts circa 1978.

Tangled up in Blues, Installment IV

2008-12-30T13:37:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 2/7/08 at Age of Reason

Barbara....

......Barbara

......Barbara

I was about a year out of university, a newly licensed CPA working for KPMG's Denver office. Was sent out on a multi-office engagement to Portland Oregon for what turned out to be a 9 month engagement. We were put up in a hotel on the Willamette river, not far from the offices of our client.

Living in that hotel for so long, we all got rather well acquainted with the staff of the hotel. One of the regular waitresses was an ethereal-looking young woman with long blond hair and almost translucent skin. I soon learned her name was Barbara. Barbara was tall and almost anorexically thin. She certainly was not physically my usual type of woman. But as we spent so much time together, I discovered she was a very fascinating woman. She had had a very difficult life -- she was abandoned by her parents as a child, spent several years in foster care before being adopted by a nice Jewish family at age 10. Then as a young woman, she was violently raped by a customer at the bar where she was a bartender. But none of that was very significant compared to her status at the time I met her -- she had been diagnosed with terminal leukemia -- the chemo had a lot to do with her appearance.

I fell deeply in love with Barbara -- I was married at the time but would have willingly left Karen for Barbara -- had she given any encouragement to me to do so. Over the time we were in Portland, I watched he go through multiple rounds of chemo, get the shit knocked out of her, then fight back. Watching that was perhaps the hardest thing I have done. I had never had the experience of watching someone my own age dying in front of me.

We never did actually quite have a real romantic relationship -- we did spend a number of evenings out at Portland's best restaurants, clubs, etc but nothing beyond that ever happened.

I did help organize a blood drive for her (she needed massive blood transfusions following her chemo rounds) but she died shortly before we completed our assignment in Portland.

Tangled up in Blues, Installment III, Early Years

2008-12-30T13:33:00.000-08:00

Originally posted (2/7/08) at Age of Reason

This is a flashback to the mid-50s, and to my first memories of anything that could remotely be considered erotic.

In 1954-55, my father was doing his Physical Therapy Residency at the White Memorial Sanitarium (now White Memorial Medical Center) in Los Angeles. We lived nearby in what was then a brand-new low-income housing project in a neighborhood that was then mixed black/Mexican (about 75/25).

My mother was working to help pay the bills, so my brother and I were left during the day in the care of our next door neighbor. She was a young black woman, probably late teens or early 20s. I don't remember much about her (I was 4-5 years old, for Christ's sake) but I can still picture her.

This period was significant for me for two reasons. One, it exposed me to some of the best music this world has known -- Jazz, Blues and early R&B -- music my rural white parents certainly never listened to.

The other thing was that she apparently thought my younger brother and I were young enough that she didn't need to give any thought to us when she would undress or change her clothes. So, my first recollection of female breasts were those full, firm, dark chocolate beauties. Damn, I can still picture them. And the image is still incredibly erotic.

From the time we moved away in in December of 1955, I never had a close encounter with another black person until after I graduated high school, but I never lost that love of the music or that erotic image.

From this perspective looking back, I note that a hugely disproportionate number of the women with whom I have had some sort of relationship have been black, and I attribute this in large part to that early experience.

Tangled up in Blues, Redux

2008-12-30T13:30:00.000-08:00

Originally posted (2/7/08) at Age of Reason

Last April, I began what was intended to be a series of vignettes on some of the women that played especially meaningful roles in my life. For a variety of reasons (lack of discipline being amongst the leading ones) that effort petered out early on -- I am going to try resuscitate that project now.

To bring everyone (mostly me) up to date, the following links are to those prior installments:

Intro

Installment I

Installment II

2008-12-30T13:23:00.000-08:00

Previously posted (1/11/08) at Age of Reason

Just heard a great recording of this song on KPLU (local NPR station out of Pacific Lutheran University)

Spoonful
by Willie Dixon

Could fill spoons full of diamonds,
Could fill spoons full of gold.
Just a little spoon of your precious love
Will satisfy my soul.

Men lies about it.
Some of them cries about it.
Some of them dies about it.
Everything's a-fightin' about the spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.

Could fill spoons full of coffee,
Could fill spoons full of tea.
Just a little spoon of your precious love;
Is that enough for me?

Chorus

Could fill spoons full of water,
Save them from the desert sands.
But a little spoon of your forty-five
Saved you from another man.

Chorus

Tangled up in Blues, Installment II

2008-12-30T12:51:00.000-08:00

Previously posted (4/5/07) at Age of Reason

Apologies for ripping off Dylan's idea here.

For those poor sods who slogged through Installment I, the events in this installment occurred roughly midway through those in that installment.

I only knew her for a few days and possibly there was really not much special about her. I cannot even recall her name -- although if I close my eyes, I can easily picture her.

I had been working as a logger on the Oregon coast, and had decided to head to Vancouver to find Margaret (from Installment I). Just outside of Tillamook, I came across her and a friend hitchhiking. They squeezed into my VW Karmann Ghia, along with my guitar, sleeping bag and a few clothes (if you are familiar with Karmann Ghias, you can appreciate how crowded that was) and I took them to Portland, where they were part of a commune that shared an old house.

To backtrack a bit here -- at this time, I had essentially traded the strict fundamentalist morality of my childhood for a similarly strict and grim political morality. So, while in principle, I favored sex, drugs and rock n roll, that was not actually part of my reality -- everything was focused on "the cause." While I had spent some time in Haight-Asbury in the Summer of '67, that time was spent recruiting hippies to show up at anti-war rallies and that sort of thing -- I really was not a part of that life.

So this was a revelation to me. She was sympathetic to my political views, but made it clear that that was not her thing. Her "thing" was centered around art, music, hashish, macrobiotic food and Hindu/Buddhist thought. She made it very clear that we were not in a romance and certainly not exclusive. I had never before been sexually involved with someone with whom I did not at least pretend to to be in love.

I remained with her for only a few days, before departing for Vancouver. A few months later, I once again passed through Portland and tried to find her, but she had moved on and nobody seemed to know where she had gone and I never saw her again.

I never did completely rid myself of those old hangups, but this experience certainly was a good start.

Tangled up in Blues, Installment I

2008-12-30T12:48:00.000-08:00

Originally posted (4/5/07) at Age of Reason

Off topic (any excuse to postpone actual writing) but the title of this thread is from the House of Blues album "Tangled up in Blues - The Songs of Bob Dylan (This Ain't No Tribute Album)" -- with covers of Dylan songs by blues artists. I heartily recommend it to anyone who likes Dylan and/or the blues. Link to Amazon

By the way, the same label does a great album of Rolling Stones Songs titled "Paint it Blue - the Songs of the Rolling Stones" that I also recommend.

Back on topic. This is the first installment of what I intend to be a series of vignettes about some of the women who have played important roles in my life.

This one is possibly the most complex one of all. And one which, in spite of a definite mutual physical attraction, never materialized into a romantic relationship. Actually, come to think of it, this is a common theme here. Maybe someday, I will analyse why that has been the case.

I first met Margaret in 1968, at the beginning of my freshman year at the conservative Christian college we both attended. Physically, she was strikingly plain -- an impression exaggerated by her apparently complete lack of personal vanity and disregard for razors, makeup and contemporary fashion. In an environment where I also felt like a complete outsider, that may well be what first attracted my attention.

It turns out that both of us were involved in several Quaker-led political and social movements and both of us considered ourselves to be Quakers. We also shared an English Lit class and a love for the music of Joan Baez.

Margaret was much more sophisticated and worldly than I. Her parents had immigrated to Canada from Germany following WWII, and she spoke fluent German and French. She had spent the previous summer studying in Paris and had been caught up in some of the student uprisings there. Both her political and literary orientations were much more radical than mine.

We became quite close, but while I was clearly interested in a romantic relationship, she just as clearly was resisting that. But we did spend many hours debating politics, philosophy and poetry.

One of her political obsessions was anti-Semitism. This was strange to me, because in the community in which I was raised, I had never really encountered any traces of that -- lots of racism, but nothing directed toward Jews. It was not until much later that I understood the roots of her obsession. Her parents had been members of the Nazi party in Germany, and the reason they were in Canada was that they were not permitted to immigrate to the US.

I dropped out of school to pursue my anti-war and civil rights causes and lost touch with her for some time. But we reconnected several times over the next 2-3 years. The next time was when she dropped by on her way from Greenwich Village to Vancouver. She wanted me to join her, but at that time, I was romantically involved with another girl.

About a year later, I was about to be drafted and was debating going to jail or to Canada, so decided to check out the scene there. I drove up to Vancouver, hoping to hook up with her there, but she had moved on. I spent a few days there, and learned that she had returned to her parents home in the Okanagan Valley. I reached her father by telephone and he invited me to spend some time there.

I spent about a month helping him with his orchard, repairing outbuildings, picking fruit etc, but things with Margaret just didn't click like I had hoped. It was clear to me that she did not want any relationship at that time, and that she would soon be moving on -- physically and emotionally. I returned to the US, and while I got a couple of letters from her, I never saw her again.

Months later, I learned from her sister that she had been in the Bay Area where she was involved with the Panthers and the Weather Underground, and had then returned to Europe where she joined the radicals and was reportedly being sought by German police for suspicion of having participated in attacks by the Baader-Meinhof Gang.

Somehow, it seems as we could never be the same place at the same time. In retrospect, I think she sensed that I was too emotionally demanding -- that a romantic relationship would have been smothering for her -- that she would have been happy to just fuck me, but sensed that I needed more than that.

From a political perspective, she and her friends were responsible for radicalizing my views, and ultimately, when I saw the extent to which they were willing to go, for my subsequent disillusion with radical leftist politics.

Tangled up in Blues

2008-12-30T12:45:00.000-08:00

Originally posted (4/5/07) at Age of Reason

Last evening, while walking my dog, the random shuffle on my i-Pod gave me, in quick succession, Willie Nelson's version of "All the Girls" (schmaltzy, but I still love Willie), followed by Bob Dylan's "Tangled up in Blue" (quite possibly his best work, IMHO). This triggered a train of thought about many of the women who have, in some important ways, been a part of my life.

I awoke in the wee hours of this morning continuing that thought, and decided to put some of these memories to words -- I should have gotten up then to do so, because some of what I mentally composed seemed quite good at the time, but getting it to the screen now, several hours later, might be a challenge.

I anticipate that some of the characters and situations, in modified/disguised form, may be incorporated into a future fictional project I have been contemplating.

Some of these relationships barely qualify as such, and are important mostly because of what was happening in my life at the time. And as of right now, I do not intend to address the most important one -- the one with the woman to whom I have been married for the past 27 years -- that one is too complicated and too personal to share right now.

My plan it to publish a summary of each as a separate post, as time permits, over the next several days.

I Have Tried, in my Way, to be Free.....

2008-12-30T12:32:00.000-08:00

Previously posted (8/23/08) at Age of Reason

Like a bird on the wire,
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
Like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.

Like a baby, stillborn,
Like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
And by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
He said to me, you must not ask for so much.
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
She cried to me, hey, why not ask for more?

Oh like a bird on the wire,
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

American Tune

2008-12-30T12:29:00.000-08:00

Previously posted to Age of Reason (9/14/08)

I stumbled across this on youtube today -- I am fairly sure I had not heard the song for at least 30 years! I tend to listen to Paul Simon only rarely these days, and I tend to forget just how good some of his songs really are.

Many's the time I've been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and I've often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
Oh, but I'm all right, I'm all right
I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered
or driven to its knees
but it's all right, it's all right
for we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the
road we're traveling on
I wonder what's gone wrong
I can't help it, I wonder what's gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age's most uncertain hours
and sing an American tune
Oh, and it's alright, it's all right, it's all right
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying to get some rest