I look at myself in the first grade and I look at myself now, I'm basically the same. The temperament is not that different. -Donald Trump, Republican nominee for the US president (b. 14 Jun 1946) Reference: 1, 2
Friday, June 17, 2016
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Psalm 23
The Gun is my protector; I shall not want.
It lays waste to my enemy,
makes him lay down in bloody fields.
It troubles the waters.
It restores my manhood;
it proves I am right,
and none deny me for fear of its wrath.
Yes, my enemies shall know the valley
the valley of the shadow of death;
for I am the angel of death.
I shall fear no evil;
for I carry my Gun always,
its trigger and hammer are with me always.
I prepare a table before my enemies,
I anoint my head with oil;
my goblet overflows with no mercy.
Surely no one will follow me;
goodness and mercy shall give me wide passage;
and I will sleep with my Gun forever.
As translated by the NRA
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Idée d’jour
Historians tell the story of the past, novelists the story of the present.
– Edmond de Goncourt, writer, critic, and publisher (26 May 1822-1896)
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Idée d’jour
I felt odd: overtired, overwrought, unpleasantly like my brain had been removed and my skull stuffed with something like microwaved aluminum foil, dinted, charred and shorting with sparks.
Helen Macdonald, H Is For Hawk,Chapt. 1, pg 3
Saturday, May 21, 2016
Idée d’jour
We carry the lives we've imagined as we carry the lives we have, and sometimes a reckoning comes of all the lives we have lost.
... Sometimes a reckoning comes of all the lives we have lost, and sometimes we take it upon ourselves to burn them to ashes.
Helen Macdonald, H Is For Hawk, pg. 129-130
Saturday, April 30, 2016
How We Tell Our Stories
- It's the way we tell our stories that tends to set our fate
- We speak of heroes and villains
- We speak of winners and losers
- How we tell the story forms the mask we will wear
- The word on our lips
- The breath exhaled
- The air taken in
- All part of the mysterious stew
- It's the way we tell our story, the length of each line - longer than the palmist's reckoning
- We speak of our role, but
- We are always the hero of our own saga
- We speak of winning and losing,
- But each new breath is a victory
- How we decorate the hours,
- How we honor the day,
- How we dream the night
- How we limn the path determines where we go
- It's how we tell our stories that tends to set our fate
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Meet Dr. Black
You drop your silver needle
into the canyon of my heart
You sleep the sleep of reason
you dress yourself in dark
You never left the ceremony
you never found your bliss
You sleep the sleep of reason
And forget what you have missed
Sha la la la la
There's an owl outside your window
And he plays an eldritch drum
Your nightmare dreams of heaven
And things you've left undone
There's an owl upon the bed stand
She wears Minerva's crown
Your nightmare dreams of heaven
And all the sh*t gone down
Sha la la la la (shoop, shoop)
Dr Black & Lady Midnight –
You think they know the score?
They're at the end of Boogie Street
But they don't live there any more.
You've your golden record
And I've got my golden voice
Dr. Black is in his wheelhouse
And it seems you have no choice
You say the bed's gone crazy
And the bats have gone absurd
Dr Black is in his wheelhouse
But he never says a word.
Sha la la la la
You kneel before the altar
Where streams of honey flow
You've sacrificed your innocence
For things you'll never know
When you walked upon the water
Well, it was understood
You'd sacrifice your innocence
And enter the dark wood
Sha la la la la (shoop shoop)
Dr Black & Lady Midnight,
They seem to know the score –
They go whistling past the graveyard
But they don't work there anymore
It's the way we tell our stories
That tends to set our fate
You wander through the labyrinth
In lazy figure eights
I know your heart is spinning
Dr Black has got the cure
He'll lead you through the labyrinth
Where nothing's known for sure
Sha la la la la
You say you were a miner
There’s no diamonds in your mine
You’ve gathered all the laurels
The judges said were mine
And once you were a hunchback
Beneath your bed of snow
You gathered all the laurels
Down where the asphalt grows
Sha la la la la (shoop shoop)
Dr Black & Lady Midnight
They surely know the score
Down at the end of Boogie Street
It don't matter any more
You took the first position
in the mariotte parade
With your mistress and her lover
and her lovely chamber maid
Your father dreams in heaven
your mother's doing well
with your lover and your mistress
and the hermit in her cell
Sha la la la la
I'm the perfect imitation
of the man I'm meant to be
So I dance upon these stages
Believing I am free.
In the shadows of the evening
Where the saints are dressed in chains
You dance upon your stages
For the little that remains
Sha la la la la (shoop shoop)
Dr. Black & Lady Midnight
May want to know the score
Down at the end of Boogie Street
It don't matter any more
The structure of your innocence
It ain't too hard to see
as I kneel before you baby
and your fearless symmetry
Cause if I ever met you
I didn't catch your name
but I kneel before you baby
and I love you just the same
Sha la la la la
You drop a diamond needle
In the blackness of my heart
You sleep the sleep of reason
and you dress yourself in sparks
You never left the ceremony
You never found your bliss
You sleep the sleep of reason
And forget what you have missed
Sha la la la la (shoop shoop)
Dr Black & Lady Midnight
Can never know the score
Down at the end of Bookie Street
They don't live there anymore
Dr Black & Lady Midnight
They've got a place to dwell
Down at the end of Boogie Street
At the Mystery Motel
This pastiche of Leonard Cohen was inspired by a dream recounted in passing by Yosev Omed. All he could remember was a new LP by L. Cohen titled Sleep the Sleep; "Meet Dr. Black" was the opening track for side two.
Monday, March 07, 2016
Idée d’jour
For one human being to love another...the work for which all other work is but preparation.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Friday, February 19, 2016
Idée d‘jour
There's nothing that makes you so aware of the improvisation of human existence as a song unfinished. Or an old address book.
– Carson McCullers
Tuesday, February 02, 2016
Friday, January 29, 2016
Idée d’jour
Love, friendship, respect, do not unite people as much as a common hatred for something.
– Anton Chekhov
Monday, January 11, 2016
Idée d’jour
When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people.
– Abraham Joshua Heschel, rabbi and professor (11 Jan 1907-1972)