What are you listening to? The world really needs to know - III
- Thread starter Ponder
- Start date
New release:
Founding member of the post-punk group The Virgin Prunes,
Gavin Friday - catholic
Behind the scenes of the photo:
Track 1:
Founding member of the post-punk group The Virgin Prunes,
Gavin Friday - catholic
Behind the scenes of the photo:
Track 1:
Black Swan
Abord the Yorikke!
[This video is unavailable.]
Black Swan
Abord the Yorikke!
[This video is unavailable.]
chronic
old and in the way
The National Jukebox at the Library of Congress: http://www.loc.gov/jukebox/
Digney in Burnaby
donkeys live a long time
Found a syringe on the seat behind me last night. Two possible candidates: one stinker from the Canada Way ghetto who was mumbling to himself and telling others to be quiet on the bus; the other a woman who looked like Keith Richard circa 1973, complete down to the missing tooth. The road supervisor and I started sharing war stories after the rig was disposed of, showing off to some rookie. Hey, I must be a good driver if someone can crank up. Then I realized I was late so no one got a smooth ride down 12th Street. 30 years plus a week, six months until I can get pensioned off. Can't happen quick enough.
No great art from them or me.
No great art from them or me.
Digney in Burnaby
donkeys live a long time
The two John Lee Hooker House Rent songs brought this Bukowski to mind:
The Tragedy of the Leaves
I awakened to dryness and the ferns were dead,
the potted plants yellow as corn;
my woman was gone
and the empty bottles like bled corpses
surrounded me with their uselessness;
the sun was still good, though,
and my landlady's note cracked in fine and
undemanding yellowness; what was needed now
was a good comedian, ancient style, a jester
with jokes upon absurd pain; pain is absurd
because it exists, nothing more;
I shaved carefully with an old razor
the man who had once been young and
said to have genius; but
that's the tragedy of the leaves,
the dead ferns, the dead plants;
and I walked into a dark hall
where the landlady stood
execrating and final,
sending me to hell,
waving her fat, sweaty arms
and screaming
screaming for rent
because the world has failed us
both
And for something completely different, The Last are a glorious mess:
The Tragedy of the Leaves
I awakened to dryness and the ferns were dead,
the potted plants yellow as corn;
my woman was gone
and the empty bottles like bled corpses
surrounded me with their uselessness;
the sun was still good, though,
and my landlady's note cracked in fine and
undemanding yellowness; what was needed now
was a good comedian, ancient style, a jester
with jokes upon absurd pain; pain is absurd
because it exists, nothing more;
I shaved carefully with an old razor
the man who had once been young and
said to have genius; but
that's the tragedy of the leaves,
the dead ferns, the dead plants;
and I walked into a dark hall
where the landlady stood
execrating and final,
sending me to hell,
waving her fat, sweaty arms
and screaming
screaming for rent
because the world has failed us
both
And for something completely different, The Last are a glorious mess:
the only good poet
One retreat after another without peace.
was that Gladys Knight introducing them?
A little Richard goes a long long way.
great line.
A little Richard goes a long long way.
great line.
mjp
Founding member
Yeah, that's her. Midnight Special circa 73...though I suppose you could have guessed the year.