Calling out Easter for what it's become for me, remembering when I used to read, and a healthy dose of reality/lunacy from Raoul Duke.
I got happier as the recording went on. I guess I just felt a need to get a grin on.
An absurdist juxtaposition; excuse the imposition.
Containing:
- Harold Pinter reading Beckett's "The Unnamable"
- John Coltrane's "My Favorite Things"
- Billie Whitelaw performing Beckett's "Not I"
Don't try to follow how I got from one train of thought to the other, just sit back in the bar car and enjoy the ride.
So, really, how real to you want your reality to be when real life isn't that entertaining?
"A moment of inspiration will far surpass spending six years on something." - Tom Waits
Contemplating the the inherent cheese in a love song and why it was always difficult for me to embrace the cheese.
Wrapped in the christening shawl of a hangover
Baptized in tears from the real.
- Derek Dick
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night
- Allen Ginsberg
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
- T.S. Eliot
Down by the Riverside motel, it's 10 below and falling.
By a 99 cent store she closed her eyes and started swaying.
But it's so hard to dance that way when it's cold and there's no music.
- Tom Waits
Us people are just poems.
We're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation.
- ani difranco
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
petals on a wet, black bough.
- Ezra Pound
I've got this great idea.
Why don't we pitch it to the Franklin Fucking Mint?
Fine pewter portraits of General Apathy and Major Boredom singing whatever and ever Amen.
- Ben Folds
Scrambled eggs and whiskey in the false-dawn light.
- Hayden Carruth
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
- W.B. Yeats
Worlds spinning orbit quicker than 9/8ths Dave Brubeck.
We come now, frantically searching for Thomas More, rainbow villages.
Up on suddenly, Charlie Mingus and our man Abdul Malik,
to add bass, to a bottomless pit of insecurity.
- Gil Scott-Heron