Doorsteps Are Nothing
Passion so deep
Comes out as something else.
I try to weep I do
But all I do is laugh.
Ah well, there are doorsteps to sit upon
a bony ass to contemplate,
I smother the chance at smiling
And watch the others pass by
and go home;
Sunset coming in...
Saw Reds for the first time last night and was amazed when old Hen came into view. Anybody got any info on this? It was released in 1981. Well... It isn't clear in what way Hen was connected with Reed except that they operated out of Brooklyn ... don't you know. Anyways, if I had to put bets...
I think he went on about his admiration for his namesake (uh) Bernard Levin, how admiring he was of him. I think. Hannibal's Footsteps was out then, I'd read it, didn't really know Levin was a Sunday Times columnist, right-wing panda.
He had lovely hands - goyaesque in a non-goyaesque kind...
Thanks for your support all of you. Hank, I just don't know if I CAN learn how to drink in moderation. It's like I'm having this internal conversation with myself 24 hours a day at the moment - "Well, two beers on a Friday ain't the end of the world!" etc. etc. But I think it would just...
So here it is, after 20 years hitting the bottle, I've quit. I saw a pattern arising. Jobs lost, girlfriends lost, disconnected with my family. Years running in Asia. I've had enough. Four days in now. Feeling eerie, like the walls are closing in, like I've lost a true friend. Oh...
I have to confess that friend of mine was me. Alright, I had time on my hands staying in a drab Japanese hotel.:) I seem to remember the guy was holding Betting on the Muse (from the colour) but don't remember which poem he read, if he read one, or how he waxed. I had other things on my mind...
A friend of mine told me the other day that he first got wind of Bukowski while watching (he thinks) BH 90210. I come to find out that this sit-com is about a bunch of super rich college types. In one episode, my firend says, there's this loner guy who tries to get in some girl's knickers by...
I met Jeffrey once in North London - in 1988 - I bought him a G&T - or he bought me one. I think this went on for a while. It was a nice bar. In Wood Green. A Boozeria. A good bar. He was a good guy. But maybe goodness is recycled hate afterall.
Did you hear the one about Mozart - a few days after his burial, eerie sounds can be heard coming from his grave. People are frightened and the Mayor is summoned. He presses his ear to the newly earthed sod and listens intently. After a while he stands and says to the crowd: "Nothing to worry...