2 songs that one could easily die for as one does with honor in some loving russian duel
wanderin' - dave van ronk
where did you sleep last night- leadbelly
http://www.divshare.com/download/12231637-9ea
Monday, August 9, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
now, how does it feel?
ah children
time is just memory mixed with desire says the great tom waits. and boy is he right.
i am officially 4 days into my 21st year now (or 22nd i just never managed to work those out anywho) and last night for the 4th time i celebrated my birthday with a lovely group of friends. i do have a lot to say i do really but this heat is choking me up and i seem incapable to put pen to paper but i'm slowly getting my wings back--been listening to good old bobby the way i used to for the last few days without resentment or weariness just the way i used to before all this not being able to write thing came up and last night was fun and beautiful from seeing familiar faces toast in my name to seeing my childhood friend to getting drunk to holding a pretty kitten in my arms in the middle of the night (you can only do that in this poem-like city) to feelings emotions and all that jazz and all was wonderful and all made me realize that there is one single purpose to all this struggle the only thing we're in vain to give or receive and we read and write and hope and try to find that--and that is love--and life is nothing but vague backdrops in a gigantic on going desperate struggle to just get love
i looked around scared last night thinking i was the only one who noticed that
me and possibly jim.
time is just memory mixed with desire says the great tom waits. and boy is he right.
i am officially 4 days into my 21st year now (or 22nd i just never managed to work those out anywho) and last night for the 4th time i celebrated my birthday with a lovely group of friends. i do have a lot to say i do really but this heat is choking me up and i seem incapable to put pen to paper but i'm slowly getting my wings back--been listening to good old bobby the way i used to for the last few days without resentment or weariness just the way i used to before all this not being able to write thing came up and last night was fun and beautiful from seeing familiar faces toast in my name to seeing my childhood friend to getting drunk to holding a pretty kitten in my arms in the middle of the night (you can only do that in this poem-like city) to feelings emotions and all that jazz and all was wonderful and all made me realize that there is one single purpose to all this struggle the only thing we're in vain to give or receive and we read and write and hope and try to find that--and that is love--and life is nothing but vague backdrops in a gigantic on going desperate struggle to just get love
i looked around scared last night thinking i was the only one who noticed that
me and possibly jim.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
...
dear bob calming the down as he does on this very confusing depressing tiring inbalanced saturday morning
Friday, August 6, 2010
no reason to wander no reason to roam
funny thing not being able to write is
right here in my stomach a little up maybe in my lungs could as well be in my heart
tried finding a cure in songs and pushkin poems
asked bukowski too
has a few lovely depressing honest things to say on it
i even tried to fake love
which sadly failed
me of all people
wonder why i even thought i could
i could not even
keep a journal
for the life of me.
but then again
it could be the heat
right here in my stomach a little up maybe in my lungs could as well be in my heart
tried finding a cure in songs and pushkin poems
asked bukowski too
has a few lovely depressing honest things to say on it
i even tried to fake love
which sadly failed
me of all people
wonder why i even thought i could
i could not even
keep a journal
for the life of me.
but then again
it could be the heat
Thursday, August 5, 2010
footnote to 21
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
that was all that kept ringing in my ear last night fueled up with tequila staring out to the dark street
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas-
sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering
beggars holy the hideous human angels!
holy allen holy allen holy me
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
21
as of midnight today i will be 21 years old.
that'll make me
6 years younger than jimmy ever was
8 years younger than a obscene poetic ginsberg spitting out the first lines of the great howl
3 years younger than dylan recording blonde on blonde
9 years younger that kerouac rumblin' on the road
4 years older than rimbaud rushing of the verlaine to become a great poet
5 years older than whitman moving to new york
huh.
that'll make me
6 years younger than jimmy ever was
8 years younger than a obscene poetic ginsberg spitting out the first lines of the great howl
3 years younger than dylan recording blonde on blonde
9 years younger that kerouac rumblin' on the road
4 years older than rimbaud rushing of the verlaine to become a great poet
5 years older than whitman moving to new york
huh.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
roll away the stone
i'm back, lovers.
truth is i came back on friday, but my mind took a weekend off in preparation for the upcoming busy days so i didn't have the chance to put anything down. i took leave for about two weeks, back to that place of childhood which always leaves the most pleasant taste in your mouth once you put it in your rear window--finished up my war and peace, studied some latin, had some family time-- i usually stay there much longer--months even--had in fact announced it to be my desolation peak--but this time it was only two short weeks.
it was weird as if it was a still slice cut of a big time cake and i felt a bit out of place. felt like nothing needed to be going on in my brain i cut off any and all music (except for an occasional bobby and that song halleluaj for some reason) i listened to the wind or to my mama's pen rushing over the crossword puzzle of the newspaper instead-- i didn't stare at the see for hours trying to come up with first questions then answers about love life and death-- i didn't write-- which became first a peculiarity then a burden then a dissapointment--i read an old story i had written last summer around the same time in the same spot in place and mind--over 20 pages i read and read and laughed and silently cherished the fact that now i was either too good or too bad to ever write like that--
so it was like i said--odd. i had gone that road hoping i may find what i have been searching for but nope nada--it was just--normal, you know. and i had a good two weeks rest and was happy and all but it was just weird (i should start coming up with better words than weird) anywho i went i saw i conquered and came back and life outside myself seems now irrelevant as it does when you spend some time away and of reach--and i get back on the tracks with two nights out tomorrow and on monday so back to my old tricks and back to my old flicks as always
like i said (again) i didn't think of much back there so i don't really have some fancy food for soul that i can throw at your face but i came back today and realized again that life goes on regardless and funny the circles we come in and go and school in a few weeks time and all i can do is smile and understand momentarily how unpredictable life truly is and how sometimes in the lamest of moments like when you're brushing your teeth you realize you've done something you would have never thought you'd do or something had happened that you never thought would have happened or someone had failed you and someone cracked open your heart and you look at the mirror and needlesly say to yourself "i wouldn't have had it any other way" and you know nothing you think of right now will unfold as you plan---understanding all only to forget about it all over again
all goes on and nothing collapses and all that deal you know
as i said
back to my old tricks
truth is i came back on friday, but my mind took a weekend off in preparation for the upcoming busy days so i didn't have the chance to put anything down. i took leave for about two weeks, back to that place of childhood which always leaves the most pleasant taste in your mouth once you put it in your rear window--finished up my war and peace, studied some latin, had some family time-- i usually stay there much longer--months even--had in fact announced it to be my desolation peak--but this time it was only two short weeks.
it was weird as if it was a still slice cut of a big time cake and i felt a bit out of place. felt like nothing needed to be going on in my brain i cut off any and all music (except for an occasional bobby and that song halleluaj for some reason) i listened to the wind or to my mama's pen rushing over the crossword puzzle of the newspaper instead-- i didn't stare at the see for hours trying to come up with first questions then answers about love life and death-- i didn't write-- which became first a peculiarity then a burden then a dissapointment--i read an old story i had written last summer around the same time in the same spot in place and mind--over 20 pages i read and read and laughed and silently cherished the fact that now i was either too good or too bad to ever write like that--
so it was like i said--odd. i had gone that road hoping i may find what i have been searching for but nope nada--it was just--normal, you know. and i had a good two weeks rest and was happy and all but it was just weird (i should start coming up with better words than weird) anywho i went i saw i conquered and came back and life outside myself seems now irrelevant as it does when you spend some time away and of reach--and i get back on the tracks with two nights out tomorrow and on monday so back to my old tricks and back to my old flicks as always
like i said (again) i didn't think of much back there so i don't really have some fancy food for soul that i can throw at your face but i came back today and realized again that life goes on regardless and funny the circles we come in and go and school in a few weeks time and all i can do is smile and understand momentarily how unpredictable life truly is and how sometimes in the lamest of moments like when you're brushing your teeth you realize you've done something you would have never thought you'd do or something had happened that you never thought would have happened or someone had failed you and someone cracked open your heart and you look at the mirror and needlesly say to yourself "i wouldn't have had it any other way" and you know nothing you think of right now will unfold as you plan---understanding all only to forget about it all over again
all goes on and nothing collapses and all that deal you know
as i said
back to my old tricks
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
no reply
lovers!
i will be taking off tomorrow morning and possibly won't be back till the beginning of august--in the meantime obviously i will not be able to post--but i'll be packing my tolstoy and my eliot tonight and leave for that golden myth called the beach and clear my head and my whole system for a while--so long!
miss me (you better)
Saturday, July 17, 2010
thrill is gone
funny how once you say something outloud
it loses all its charm and magic
seems to be very real ordinary not at all impressive from then on
except this
Bob Dylan - Idiot Wind - Bootleg Series Vol.2 - MyVideo
it loses all its charm and magic
seems to be very real ordinary not at all impressive from then on
except this
Bob Dylan - Idiot Wind - Bootleg Series Vol.2 - MyVideo
Friday, July 16, 2010
don't think twice...
"don't ask forgiveness," laughed natasya flippovna,
"that would destroy all the strangeness and originality"
F.D.
oh dear
how frightening the existence of all them spirits in love.
ah for the last two days the walls are coming down on me lines don't flow songs don't sound the same the air man i swear the air had been taken from the universe and me alone i'm trying to survive struggling like a fish on land--words even words have long betrayed their existence and shrugged and declared finally that they are not worth a dime--all because the comrade in name opens up pandora's box and sets loose all them evil things--love longing liking hating jealousy waiting--and now i try to stretch the lid back over the damn jar but it's impossible i pull and i push but alas the war has been lost--days shorter nights shorter life shorter--there it is in the morning when you wake up there it is lurking at the side of your desk at the screen of your damn computer who before showed no signs of life until that moment it is in pound and ginsberg and bukowksi all three proven to be useless by the way when i forced them to go up against it praying the front lines i drag them to would distract me and remind me of all the complicated intellectual smart people dilemmas and the great things like life death and lumberjacks but lord has anything ever been so simply invincible!-- no i've lost all battles on all lines and soldiers bleeding and broken and whitman blows softly and his breath tickles the wings of the butterfly and smiles as if to say "dear child have i taught you nothing?" and cummings strolls by proud to be the one who figured it out the first and grins michieviously as if to say it's a death trap we all fall in sooner or later
this this this i can not deal with simply for its simpleness there are no back and forth no questions or answer no puzzles or riddles--oh it is so simple and the moment you know it in your heart you can not unknow it but all this anger and resentment and hatred!
dear god the hatred--
But goodbye’s too good a word, gal
So I’ll just say fare thee well
I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don’t mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don’t think twice, it’s all right
Thursday, July 15, 2010
bellum et pax
if you are at all interested:
http://whatthedeadpoetsaid.blogspot.com/2010/07/war-and-peace-volume-i.html
http://whatthedeadpoetsaid.blogspot.com/2010/07/war-and-peace-volume-i.html
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
white russian.
"So great is the worth of Dostoevsky that to have produced him is by itself sufficient justification for the existence of the Russian people in the world: and he will bear witness for his country-men at the last judgement of the nations."
Nikolay Berdyaev
Sunday, July 11, 2010
fans
had a lovely night last night--but barely got any sleep (all that alcohol sucking the water out of your every pore) and with other unpleasant physical conditions added to that today i'm a wretch--this day will probably take 56 hours to get by--oh and holland lost--quite cheaply too, no heroism for the spain on that one--and though my heart is sorrowful at least paul the octopus will now be safe. and i think it's hilarious that the words paul and octopus even come together--anywho--
Saturday, July 10, 2010
born to run
i meant it when i said busy days busy nights kill the poet.
some nights though are a tad more worth the hassle than the others. like the night before- i met with 2 of my closest friends-- people i grew up with, people who were there possbily when i first liked a boy or when i first tried a cigarette-- who both had been a bit off my reach for various reason first one simply out of inconvenience of the daily life the other more on my mistake anywho--we met we dined we drank and we remembered how simple life was listening to old heart broken high school songs and trying to take a perfect shot of the lemon sideways on a tequila shot-- the old days of childhood and exaggeration--so we sat at some back alley bar and and smiled contently as the cigarette smoke danced around in waves of forgotten memories and we tried to fill in one another with the haste and enthusiasm that belongs to people who know that time passes no matter how much they love and cherish one another--
with promises made and mistakes noticed we split up in the pitch black night. oh before i forgot--my dear friend who now finally says what he thinks-- to some extent at least-- my dear dear friend called me up in the blue and i told him how much i've been enjoying his pysche--it made me appreciate once more the sanctity of the spoken word--made me appreciate the poets more than anything and I know one of them possibly whitman could be ginsberg too stood up and took a deep pleasant happy breath and smiled knowing none of his work had been in vain
you may have noticed that i'm skipping like a broken letter and can not seem to put my thoughts into words as good as i used to so i'm gonna cut this short--but believe me children this little pumpkin of a head of mine works too much anyhow and i still smile when i cross the street as the rain pours down in buckets and my toes are wet cause i'm never weather appropriate--and god give me strength and if he don't exist then somebody else--blake whitman pound kerouac-- don't matter--give me strentgh to never be weather appropriate in my remaining days--ever!
have fun. get wet.
some nights though are a tad more worth the hassle than the others. like the night before- i met with 2 of my closest friends-- people i grew up with, people who were there possbily when i first liked a boy or when i first tried a cigarette-- who both had been a bit off my reach for various reason first one simply out of inconvenience of the daily life the other more on my mistake anywho--we met we dined we drank and we remembered how simple life was listening to old heart broken high school songs and trying to take a perfect shot of the lemon sideways on a tequila shot-- the old days of childhood and exaggeration--so we sat at some back alley bar and and smiled contently as the cigarette smoke danced around in waves of forgotten memories and we tried to fill in one another with the haste and enthusiasm that belongs to people who know that time passes no matter how much they love and cherish one another--
with promises made and mistakes noticed we split up in the pitch black night. oh before i forgot--my dear friend who now finally says what he thinks-- to some extent at least-- my dear dear friend called me up in the blue and i told him how much i've been enjoying his pysche--it made me appreciate once more the sanctity of the spoken word--made me appreciate the poets more than anything and I know one of them possibly whitman could be ginsberg too stood up and took a deep pleasant happy breath and smiled knowing none of his work had been in vain
you may have noticed that i'm skipping like a broken letter and can not seem to put my thoughts into words as good as i used to so i'm gonna cut this short--but believe me children this little pumpkin of a head of mine works too much anyhow and i still smile when i cross the street as the rain pours down in buckets and my toes are wet cause i'm never weather appropriate--and god give me strength and if he don't exist then somebody else--blake whitman pound kerouac-- don't matter--give me strentgh to never be weather appropriate in my remaining days--ever!
have fun. get wet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)