feeling so harmless

i know you know i know you show something's tearing up your mind

some "wretched" harmonica we all are. now i am one of those old spirits who seem to believe that the sincerity and the simplicity of the souls should be praised and held above any moral social educational prejudices or norms or rules. when a feeling appears in the pit of your stomach and you may not act upon it or may not consider it important--but "by God" (as the notoriously in love cummings say, "there is no excuse for may" or something) a feeling is a feeling and it rarely comes out anyways--so why be a liar for no reason and why be one of those unfortunate mass that lead "lives of quiet desperation"--quiet being the cursed word the unnatural forced upon moral code of our times--quiet are the spirits that lurk among the hallways with big clocks and trails of names and dates--quiet are the parents who know things will not work out the way their children plan--quiet are the friends who don't really enjoy each other companies--quiet is convenience--conformity--

me being one small spot on a land long lost--i tend not to stay quiet. if there's anything in my life i am proud of--that is that i never sit quiet. honesty sincerity and all that jazz, it starts in the human stomach. even when i should probably keep my mouth shut--but even the way that sentence comes out--the shoulds and the oughts and the plans and schemes. what happened to the good old human communication, what happened to asking a question and getting an answer for it, what happened just staring at someone's face while the word comes out instead of being the one to bear a warning of "oh hush here she comes"--

man all the concealing--i think people just die of hiding the curves of their brains--or the tiny bounces of their hearts. so when a poet just writes and writes and writes and no one has a clue whatthehell but everyone cheers--why there's a man who speaks! god forbid we all let things out in the open!

and me who keeps bitching about how i live in a world of traitors and liars and people constantly chained by thoughtless evaluations--well, me of all, should honor the code of codelessness-and knowing at times the world may not be able to handle such an act or the act shall not handle the world in the proper way--still, i should be able to plug in a good old dylan song to calm my nerves brew a beautiful cup of coffee and from the corner of my eye should see nothing--nothing that stops or limits--nothing of convenient measures--nothingness is the answer to my every question--where nothing exists everything else also can--

"Good is the passive that obeys Reason. Evil is the active springing from Energy."

W.Blake

The grandness i seek in life
is found but in the human heart.

D. (pretending to be a lost blake-ish spirit)

hush

you know that whole thing about animals smelling and people talking---well that's a load of crap. we don't talk. nobody does. everyone is so damn concerned with all that correctness shit--i think that's why i loved jack and allen and walt--because they never stop talking--

you know, the whole with a whimper and not a bang type of thing.

oh well.

it's not even safe no more in the--

60s dylan stuck in a 70s body.

just made my day.

...

let me forget about today until tomorow--

so 3 things should be banned during school months--

first--cute new yorker producers cracking jokes and vaguely mentioning in the attempt of expressing differences in point of views "totally different taste in music". second--spring weather, let's face it, it does absolutely no good to anyone. third--falling in love-well, i don't need to explain that.


but what i do wish i could explain is--

you know what, i'll leave it at that--i'm too tired sleepy restless to go on--

"unreasonable demands on the musculature of the heart"

funny thing i think you can physically make yourself hurt by hurting spiritually. i'm not even kidding--your heart sorta bounces in its spot and this unwanted unwelcomed air-like thing fills up the space--only your heart is not that big or mighty if you hadn't noticed so it bounces tinyly (oh the heart rarely ever relocates drastically) anyways so there's only an inch or two left but the air-like substance (may also be called as anxiety or hate or fear or regret or any other nerve-wrecking emotion) is way too much so you feel something push the inner walls of your inner world. anyways. i know that doesn't make a whole lotta sense but here's the thing--i'm running on 5 hours a night of sleep for about half a week by now, school takes getting used to, there are shifts and changes all around, and my mind is all hazy (as if you hadn't noticed that by my crazy pace of posting) and caleb followill sings so damn well. all that and a new story of my good old beautiful sad jack talking about his dreams--which make no sense whatsoever--which is something i miss in conversations. we all make too much sense nowadays.

well--still-the days roll on---

Let the whiteness of the bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
and would be forgotten, so I would forget.

T.S.Eliot said that.

oh you now, Eliot--
i said that.

...

Or warned you how despairing
The moths are when they are burnt?

W.B.Yeats

Probably put this on before but I needed to say it again--outloud--

had problems with drinking milk and being school tardy

so--first day back on the tracks.

not much happened really. i was too tired and too sleepy and a drop away from caffeine explosion just to stand up straight--so i rushed back home the second i was done. tomorrow may be a bit easier hopefully, and by the end of the week my body will go from going bed at sunrise to waking up to it.

anyways here's a good thing though--turns out i've been jacking up my ipod with a few songs for the past week or so that just wake you up like hell. i call'em the "morning boost" songs. mostly early KoLs--especially wasted time for some reason. perfect remedy for a sleepy, dopey, boring traffic jammed morning.

well, you know me well by now, the minute i stepped in the campus i just rushed to my sanctuary--the library that is. Oh even the smell of the place makes me happy, i swear.

last but not least--i was doing something irrelevant last night and this song came up on my list--and i think i listened to it about 40 times ever since. that followill boy sure can sing--and it's such a sad bluesy painful song but it's almost voluntarily painful--as if it's poking some red hot wound on purpose. i'll post the live version on here--but be sure to check out the album version--i mean, you'll probably hate it, i don't know, maybe you won't--but it's one of those songs that need to get you right when the time is right--

you know what i noticed just now? i hate periods (.) i do. they make me feel incomplete. hell with the periods--

something i never learnt

well once in a blue moon you have that very second in which you see how truly screwed up you are--by that i mean how dysfunctional--and you start counting down the way you can fix yourself.

oh well. here's something i need to learn. forgive. not by pretending that everything's fine not by not pursuing your anger--by truly forgiving, by truly letting go of your anger. i've never done that, i think. never once in my life. i've let things get better but i never let them disappear. i'm not sure if i know how.

thank god for the songs.

sit still

this gets me thinking.

the old creatures

i've been having morrison incidents over the last few days. i wanted to talk about him on here but i didn't know what to say--but then i realized i never really needed to say anything.

how much do we hold back just because of that dreaded obligation of saying something? or else it would have been so simple. i did that once a few weeks ago--wrote a beautiful friend a letter that was about half a page long and had no sense whatsoever but by god, the amount we hold in just because we can't find the perfect way to get it out--i say hell with it. i touch i cry i laugh too loud i hug i do as i please. i suggest you all the same. stop waiting for the right things to say. they may never come.

so what if it's dark and warmish outside and school's around the corner and i'm feeling bad that my comfort zone's being torn--so what if i read too much and thought too much and ate too much today--so what if i miss morrison and just wanna have him on here without having to say anything of worth--

200.

"...crusades, unrecorded voyages of discovery, republics without histories, wars of suppressed religion,moral revolutions...!/"comrades to watch your gazelle/phony/i spy with my little eye.../i spy with my little eye.../as the present now will later be past/finger on the pulse/wishful/cause-less/homeland/.../more february 6th/february 6th/"i call'em contemporary songs"/"happy-drunk"/... /keep that smile on your pretty face/.../when the snowflakes storm/bellum omnium contra omnes/blood on the tracks/duel/colors/five to one baby one in five/.../you'd know what a drag it is to see you/i'll keep it with mine/let me sleep all night in your---/.../.../do you know the introduction bob?/it struck me kinda funny/exodus/plums/wail/but if you try sometimes..../and the pills that mother gives you don't do anything at all/behavior lawless like snow flakes/where have you been my blue eyed son?/make a solid road/head in hand/no--bel prize/a memorable fancy/stars for your shoes/8th of december/you should not treat me like a stranger/a supermarket in california/bright midnight/farewell/bare november days/good bye is too good a word/cut loose before it gets late/.../happy birthday/.../--show off/"beningn and salutary our Russian cold is, friends"/... /.../hey hey fyodor dostoevsky i wrote you a song/.../November 11th/ata/"the morning is flying on the wings of his age--"/say that you want the kind of things that money just can't buy/now people just get uglier and i have no sense of time/my advice is to not.../man that will live longer than he/.../.../sugar for sugar, salt for salt/ain't it clear that i just can't fit/.../in Durance/October 21, 1969/october../lazarus' foot/the Good Night/see you later, allen ginsberg/said sugar, make it slow and we'll come together fine/how sweet is the baez /... /hey mr. tambourine man-- /"down in the Village, nothing seemed wrong..."/hiatus/mine've been like Verlaine's and Rimbaud...!/you can still find some room/latin, that soft bastard/.../september 25th/"why was cupid a boy?" /101/bird that whistles, bird that sings/short notice/positively 4th street/.../"try new mexico, i hear he's on a tortilla"/.../internet dinners/a million times or more dear/it takes a lot to laugh, it takes a plane to cry /... / /.../muttering small talk at the wall/.../they've got some hungry women there that'll make a mess out of you/a handful of rain/or else expecting rain/wild child/indian summer/... /myself forever reproaching myself/rats' alleys/barbaric yawp/well, i plugged it in my socket and the house exploded/"damn it, one can't die without explanations."/"repetition of salutes"/maybe i should switch to harmonic/it's a single L/feast of friends/.../invitation and invention/../fighting in the captain's tower/well that's what i call a loser/.../keeping the word /"looking for peace" /they sing while you slave../15 minutes/four letter wor/you can't always get what you want /my back pages /know your fyodor/empty handed painter from your street /as a wedding wov /bright midnight /into the wild /"Life -- Death & The lumberjacks are coming'"/and the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming/food for something /brown rice, sea weed and a dirty hotdog/.../summer's almost gone /july3rd.../july.../july.../july.../july.../whitman in alaska /.../desolation/tarantula/thriller/../album of the week*/mayonnaise comes in cans--down the river/... /ha! /judgement day/summertime love/son of a bitch!/..../go!!/free bird! /0-0 /... / /icarus! /one lump or two?/people.... /getting high on the air/details! /scatter plot /can't you see that i am not... /sailing /on the road with kerouac /overall/shuffle /uhm/ /rebel yell /classic rock mag/woodstock/random sampling /hey mr. lightman... /The Census-Taker/the crystal ship/

...

"Praised be I, writing, dead already and
dead again -
Dipped in acid ink!"

J.K.

"...crusades, unrecorded voyages of discovery, republics without histories, wars of suppressed religion, moral revolutions...!"

i have a wonderful friend with a great taste and talent in music and we often seem to set upon separate paths when i stubbornly and childishly claim every single time that "i have to connect--click--in some personal way!" and i can pinpoint that with many that one very string of heart that someone pulls every time i hear their voice read their words see their faces feel their warmth or stare at their smile or some other crazy way of them that makes me believe only i myself can see them that way--could be family friends musicians poets writers beautiful people with lights coming out of their eyes and their hands and their fingertips--god fingertips are so personal and so beautiful they are absolutely my favorite part of the body--

and i have to make all mine and i have to care for all--so days and months and years i think and i finally cracked open one box of pearls it's bob man i always thought what it was that made me want to listen to him and hear him and read him and i always thought it was the awesomeness of lyrics (which is definitely) but there are so many that have great lyrics that don't get to me that way--and tonight

the weirdest thing happens and i get scared and i get nervous and i have some old dylan concert playing in the back and its not a good anxiety but a bad one that gets to down when you're either too tired or too drunk or too upset to begin with---anyways so there and then i see it--what it is about bob--

he soothes me--not in a fatherly mature calm sane type of way god no who can feel sane in the middle of sad eyed lady or not feel out there and stranded in nobody 'cept you but in a silent way in a way when someone stands far away and stares at you beautifully or like someone you see on the bus who has so much feeling in their eyes--or in their FINGERTIPS--that you just feel like what the hell with the class you're failing love you're wasting person you're missing when someone has such feeling in their eyes or like your mother taking you shopping and it doesn't matter if you buy anything or like finding a friend around the corner who has time for just one cup of tea or like randomness anyways--anyways sorta like "locating silence" that's how bob deals with me and i deal with bob--because he soothes me in silence and in peace without overworking or overpushing and that peace and that silence is why i crawl right back---

that wonderful friend of mine must feel now pretty freaked out see this is me and i'm funny and useless that way and i love people for their eyes and for their smiles and for their ways of hugging you back and i love the randomest most strangest for the tiniest dumbest things and trust me my good dear friend in this world we and i and you and bob lives at times the absolute stranger is the least stranger of all---

good night all you random people with random beautiful ways

good night lorca hating new york noticing engines and tears

good night whitman with your beautiful beard and your butterfly made out of my stomach

good night pound

good night jim--your angelness your purity

good night ginsberg and kerouac and the hearts spilled on to the streets as i pick them up like flowers and stuff them down my ears and my throat and my eyes

good night salinger safe and sound and alive for all

good night friends foes family

good night earth rain and snow and sunrise and dawn and birds in the morning at the puddles of rain

good night this beautiful city city of no one else city of mine city of ancient roman beauty and eastern beauty and western beauty Paradise city city in which you can feel like every song was written for it

good night random person i think of randomly and million more who wastes seconds thinking of people wasting seconds

good night bob--

comrades to watch your gazelle

"And I, who follow every seed-leaf upon the wind!
They will say I deserve this."

E. Pound

phony

i'm at the top of my holden caulfield syndrome

and me not having a schedule today even though i have to pick courses tomorrow and people who think a semester or a year will make you so much older and wiser and capable of taking their dumbfuck courses are not helping either

i guess i'm always gonna be one of those who just constantly talk about taking off, but when the rambling ends, i'll still be right there

or who knows maybe i'll pack my bag and leave tomorrow morning

i spy with my little eye...

...a dylan verse for your valentine--

Nothing much matters or seems to please me
'Cept you, yeah you
Nothing hypnotizes me
Or holds me in a spell
Everything runs by me
Just like water from a well
Everybody wants my attention
Ev'rybody's got something to sell
'Cept you, yeah you

i spy with my little eye...

...an e.e.cummings poem that would make you cry--

love's function is to fabricate unknownness

(known being wishless;but love,all of wishing)
though life's lived wrongsideout,sameness chokes oneness
truth is confused with fact,fish boast of fishing

and men are caught by worms(love may not care
if time totters,light droops,all measures bend
nor marvel if a thought should weigh a star
—dreads dying least;and less,that death should end)

how lucky lovers are(whose selves abide
under whatever shall discovered be)
whose ignorant each breathing dares to hide
more than most fabulous wisdom fears to see

(who laugh and cry)who dream,create and kill
while the whole moves;and every part stands still:

i did in italics first. but then i realized italics was just not the cummings way. hope the post's not confusing.

as the present now will later be past

this is freakishly awesome. everyone needs to watch it. as the old ac/dc song so wonderfully states, the lady's got balls--and bob's just...well...bob.

ps: friends and foes-obviously i'm rolling down to 200. i was kinda thinking of doing something different. i have a few ideas but how about me haunting your conscience for the next few days so that you'll have look through the old posts and tell me stuff that caught your attention. stuff that stole a few seconds of your life. not in a condescending way you know, just in a sharing way. (videos, links, quotes, my pointless ramblings--everything works)

finger on the pulse

so, as i told you earlier--i was feeling a little blue in the morning. so what i did; i made myself a new pot of tea and embraced myself by my holy trinity--good book, warm liquid, good music.

but later on a new idea sparked in my head and i realized i hadn't watched the wonderful--and the first purchased item in my long list of dylan dvds--the other side of the mirror in a while. Dylan is one lucky musician--people seem to make awesome stuff about him. I mean, obviously, with that good of material, you have to try hard to blow things, but still, everything about him--No Direction Home, I'm Not There, Don't Look Back--all are awesome productions, one way or the other.

the other side of the mirror is more on the lines of Don't Look Back, with its directness and simplicity. It's just a series of Dylan performances, from the year of 63 to the year of 65--in which he went electric (oh i'll skip that--we all know the story). There aren't any major interruptions--except a few minutes of footage of Baez and Dylan separately, surrounded by fans, and a few remarks of Dylan that would please you before and after the songs. And the very brief yet wonderful Cash version of Don't Think Twice, It's All right. Besides that, it's pretty straightforward; it shows you Dylan, and it shows you all the other people reacting to Dylan.

I hadn't really paid attention to a few of the songs before which i did this time--I still can't listen to North Country Blues though, it gets me too depressed--but other stuff like Who Killed Davey Moore and only a pawn in their game which i hadn't given their worth, i did now. then of course i listened to my all time fave version of mr.tambourine man and a few others that i just loved--then all the rest.


then i did what i usually did and stared at the young face in the screen and tried to figure out a small piece of the mystery. maybe i did. probably though i didn't. still i enjoyed myself like hell. i suggest the other side of the miror heartily to anyone who likes the Dylan world. It's a perfect place to start--a lot less personal than Pennebaker stuff, a lot less informing than Scorsese--and its simplicity may be just what a newbie needs to get involved.

enjoy.

wishful

so i get online and the first thing i see is a picture of jim's gravesite taken by a friend of mine.

i get blues-y. as always.

cause-less

i am a day late, but couldn't have moved on without saying happy birthday to the wonderful artistic charming rebel beautiful forever young james dean.

a friend of mine (who's just as lovely as james) sent me a postcard of him once--this one that has this pinkish color--a pose of him walking in a new york street with one of those old cameras. even the sight of it fills me with poems.

so happy birthday james. may you be up there with the right ones.

homeland

i'm tired and feverish.

just read on the internet that that in that white house music thing--bobby and joan are gonna get together. now that's what i call a good news. man--you are in so much trouble--this blog is so gonna be dylanized all the way to june--and then some.


i wish i could write more. but i'm sick. so. that's it for the day.



this is the one that gives me the chills everytime. what can i do--i'm a sucker for this shipper (if that's the word).

...

"What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it."

The Catcher In The Rye-- J.D. Salinger


paying my long overdue respect.

and gets my brain all tingly.

more february 6th

i am dearly sorry but this has to be shared. small part of the legendary wonderful CBGB performance in the late 80s--

february 6th

today happens to be the birthday of my favorite redhead on earth. if the world and life and people and love is such a mystery--lovely axl rose is an angry tender part of it.




happy birthday dearest axl rose. hope life's treating you well.

"i call'em contemporary songs"

c'mon, bobsicle, come on...make it official. make it official. make it official.

in the meantime--



oh these boys bring out the comtemporary in me.

"happy-drunk"

so, quick updates.

the followill boys won 3 out of 4 nominations--which made my sleep-deprived night worthwhile after all. but the obvious fact stands--music industry has become lame. that's all i can say.

watched the second part--uhm, sorry, episode--of star wars. yummy master obi wan.

oh the good news just flows and flows--turns out mr.zimmerman decided to pack his crap and hit the paradise city this summer. at least that's the rumour. i'll just keep my fingers crossed that it won't be blown. anyways--here's a little something to make the day: