http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3S7HAvibdvc&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzuYdUAPXxw&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Usb9N2czOO8&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02L2VzgmA8Q&feature=related
FEEL FREE
July 4, 2011
November 12, 2010
Destination/ The Church
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHFWXK3dVSA&feature=related
this poetry has been floating in my head for days
September 17, 2010
August 17, 2010
“& true love waits..in haunted attics.”
"& True Love waits, in haunted attics", Thom Yorke, Radiohead, from "True Love Waits"
August 12, 2010
“Haunted Attics”
“& true love waits, in haunted attics”,Thom Yorke,Radiohead,from True Love Waits
May 18, 2010
Dennis Potter (May 17,1935-1994/ RIP)
The English playwright/TV-dramatist, Dennis Potter was born May 17, 1935 (d. 1994, cancer). His widely acclaimed television dramas mixed fantasy and reality, the personal and the social. He was particularly fond of using themes and images from popular culture.
Pieces such as The Singing Detective (1986) and Pennies from Heaven (1978) were astonishingly fresh genre-benders – mixing detective story, musical and realist drama (the title character in The Singing Detective suffers badly from psoriasis), helping bring postmodernism to the small screen…
.
a “thanx for sharing” to..Ordinary Finds, a delightful favorite at http://i12bent.tumblr.com/
April 20, 2010
“slightly mysterious bruises”
I don’t know what it is
But you got to do it
I don’t know where to go
But you got to be there
I don’t know where to fall
But I know that its comfortable where
I don’t know where it is
Putting all of my time
In learning to care
And a bucket of rhymes
I threw up somewhere
Want a locket of who
Made me lose my perfunctory view
Of all that is around
And of all that I do
So I knock on the door
Take a step that is new
Never been here before
Is there anyone else here too
In love with beauty
Playing all of the games
Who thinks three’s company
Is there anyone else who wears slightly mysterious brusies…”
Rufus Wainwright, From “I Don’t Know What It Is”
March 11, 2010
“Night Comes In” by Mr. Richard Thompson
Night comes in like some cool river
How can there be, be another day?
Take my hand, oh real companion
And we’ll dance, dance till we fade away
Oh, the songs poured down like silver
They can only, only break my heart
Drink the wine, the wine of lovers
Lovers tired of being apart
Dancing till my feet don’t touch the ground
I lose my mind in dance forever
Lose my mind in dance forever
Turn my world around, turn my world around
Oh, this night is like no other
And this room is ringing in my ears
And these friends will never leave me
And these tears are like no other tears
Dancing till my feet don’t touch the ground
I lose my mind in dance forever
Lose my mind in dance forever
Turn my world around, turn my world around
Well, I may find that street tomorrow
Leave the shadow of my lonely room
See my one, my one and only
Heart and soul, I’m coming soon
March 8, 2010
Music For When You’re On Your Knees Before Surrender
From “My Secret Life” by Mr. Leonard Cohen
I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In My Secret Life.
I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In My Secret Life.
Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.
.
.
.
February 21, 2010
“In Held Twas In I”, lyrics Keith Reid/Gary Brooker/Procol Harum
would just Have to be included in my imaginary list of 300 favorite songs (“it might be read,nothing’s better left unsaid”)
.
“Glimpses of Nirvana”
In the darkness of the night, only occasionally relieved by glimpses of
nirvana as seen through other people’s windows, wallowing in a morass of
self-despair made only more painful by the knowledge that all I am is of my
own making. When everything around me, even the kitchen ceiling, has
collapsed and crumbled without warning. And I am left, standing in the eye
of a well looking up and wondering why and wherefore. At a time like this,
which exists maybe only for me, but is nonetheless real, if I could
communicate, and in the telling and the bearing of my soul anything is
gained, even though the words which I use are pretentious and make you
cringe with embarrassment, let me remind you of the pilgrim who asked for
an audience with the Dalai Lama. He was told he must first spend five
years (in) contemplation. After the five years, he was ushered into the
Dalai Lama’s presence, who said, “Well, my son, what do you wish to know?”
So the pilgrim said, “I wish to know the meaning of life, father.” And so
the Dalai Lama smiled and said, “Well my son, life is like a beanstalk,
isn’t it?”
Held close by that which some despise
Which some call fate, and others lies
And somewhat small for one so tall
A doubting Thomas? Who would be?
It’s written plain for all to see
For one who I am with no more
It’s hard at times, it’s awful wrong
They say that Jesus healed the sick and helped the poor
And those unsure believed his eyes – a strange disguise
Still write it down, it might be read
Nothing’s better left unsaid
Only sometimes, still no doubt
It’s hard to say, it all works out
“‘Twas Tea-Time at the Circus”
‘Twas tea-time at the circus
King Jimmy, he was there
Through hoops he skipped, highwires he tripped
And all the while the glare
Of the aching, baking spotlight
Beat down upon his cloak
And though the crowd clapped furiously
They could not see the joke
‘Twas tea-time at the circus
Though some might not agree
As jugglers danced and horses pranced
And clowns clowned endlessly
>From trunk to tail, the elephants
Quite silent, never spoke
And though the crowd clapped desperately
They could not see the joke
“The Autumn of My Madness”
In the autumn of my madness
When my hair is turning grey
For the milk has finally curdled
And I’ve nothing left to say
When all my thoughts are spoken
(Save my last departing verse)
Bring all my friends unto me
And I’ll strangle them with words
In the autumn of my madness
Which in coming won’t be long
For the nights are now much darker
And the daylight’s not so strong
And the things which I believed in
Are no longer quite enough
For the knowing is much harder
And the going’s getting rough
“Look to Your Soul”
I know if I’d been wiser
This would never have occurred
But I wallowed in my blindness
So it’s plain that I deserve
For the sin of self-indulgence
When the truth was read quite clear
I must spend my life amongst the dead
Who spend their lives in fear
Of a death that they’re not sure of
Of a life they can’t control
It’s all so simple really,
If you just look to your soul
Some say that I’m a wise man
Some think that I’m a fool
It doesn’t matter either way
I’ll be a wise man soon
For the lesson lies in learning
And by teaching, I’ll be taught
For there’s nothing hidden anywhere
It’s all there to be sought
And so if you know anything
Look closely at the time
For others who remain untrue
And won’t commit that crime, yeah…
It’s all so simple, really,
If you’ll just look to your soul
