Hurricane Gustav

  
Out of respect for the residents of New Orleans, the rest of the Gulf Coast and all the survivors and non-survivors of Katrina, there will be no more blog postings until we see which way the wind blows.


   

... time of your life

 
if i were a better blogster i'd have titled this piece, "Something Unpredictable," rather than 3 silly ellipses followed by "time of your life."  how gauche.  and i'd think up my own topics, persuading the reader on the merits rather than on the emoting which inevitably comes to my aid when the reader hears the music and lyrics.  what an exploitative carbetbagger i am.

BUT WAIT - burb ...
that's better.  now, where was i?  oh, yeah, it's laa l-la la LAA la la, but laa la la la laa.  that's it, you got it, now you:

it's something unpredictable,
but in the end it's right.
i hope you had the time of your life.

thar ya go, music and lyrics of 'good riddance (time of your life)' by Green Day, released in 1997, used as the emoting background of Seinfeld's last episode.   let it run through your mind awhile.  bounce it off your ears.   very nice.   but in the words of 'llb,' the first person to comment on my blog,  'what's your point?'  yup, well, without going into the background of this strange little group (with its energy saving name and lead singer shorter even than i am, wearing all that cute dark makeup), the words, ah those words, go on ...

so take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
for what it's worth it was worth all the while

impressive mix, don't u think?
a little like Talking Heads. u know, '(nothing but) flowers'

you got it, you got it

lots of us here already, with lots of us coming.  it's seems something unpredictable, alright.  but in the end do you think it's right?  and what did the little man mean
by 'tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial?
don't just think, write.
a nice little smiley face to ya.


 * * *

Credits -
           Music and lyrics: by Green Day, album Nimrod (1997)
           youTubelink1 (by pane92) , youTube link2 (by bloo2jay)
           Music and lyrics: by Talking Heads, final album Naked (1988)
           youTubelink3 (by marquee84)


     

Things That Make Your Head Hurt

   
--->  counting to infinity
--->  visualizing the edge of the universe ahead of you
--->  visualizing the edge of the universe getting smaller behind you
--->
--->  trying to thread a needle
--->  trying to thread a needle with two threads at once
--->  listening to Elvis sing in the ghetto

Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto

And his hunger burns . . .

--->  drinking the last beer in the refrigerator
--->  waiting for someone to comment
--->  dreaming of dragons
------> 
--->  dreaming of really big angry fire breathing red dragons
----->
--->  wondering what gravity really is
--->  asking how light can be a wave and a particle at the same time
->
--->  wondering what gravity really is
--->  hitting your head in a car wreck
---->  hitting your head on the corner of the mantlepiece
--> hitting your head on your brother's head

you try
 
 
  * * *
 
Credits -
         Words and Music:  In the Ghetto, by Scott Davis

        

Sirens in the Night

   
At one of my homes it is so quiet the sounds of a distant train will travel slowly down a hill, wander across the water, drift up my lawn and sidle through my bedroom window.  Mournful.  Pleasant.  Sometimes with a soft wail under a light northern wind.  Forgotten.

Here, as I work late into the southern california night, crafting my words, absorbing the yellow light from a distant streetlamp and just now sensing the cool drift of the desert’s evening air through the open window, the on again, off again sound of the traffic below me is suddenly pierced with the scream of the sirens.  Police perhaps?  No, fire engine and then the ambulance.  Red light floundering violently off the bottom of the branches and stucco overhang.  Light and sound fading slowly.  Painfully.

In Vegas, my apartment was in a poor neighborhood.  Off the street, way at the back.  Hot and heavy the summer air.  Cold and sweet the winter wind.  Window never closed.  No matter.  The sirens there were almost always police.  Fire trucks and ambulances more cautious in their approach.  The unmistakable crack crack sound of pistol fire.  The eerie sound of the wailing voice.  The harsh reality of the fierce angry one.  Once, sometimes twice a week.  For a year.  Not forgotten.  Sirens in the night.

           
  

California Slots

    
Glorious.  Roll of $20s.  Try one out.  See how far it goes.  Not too bad.  Try another, and another.  Push the buttons, pull the lever, load up.  Try a different selection, a different machine.  Keep hoping.  Keep peeling them off and trying those bills.  Try them one at a time, try 3 or 4 together.  Wait a few days.  See if anything improves.  Figure that if you just push enough buttons, pull enough levers, you might somehow get a few gallons, of free gas.