Burning Effigies of 2009

Today's verse Dec.. 31, 2009

Songs for the old depression and new year.

Worse than Bukowsk, perhaps,
those who couldn't even be bothered
to write it down, about the bluebirds and
the other stuff, but hey!
I'm just saying that you are going to value some
different stuff along the way
no matter what you say

today.



So I can say that if you can give me the time of day
then I would be a man who would stand in the way
and say
that I am the only man who is here today
and if you would like another man then

hey!
That's OK.

cuz I was only here



today

In the Spirit?

Here's Annie's latest card design. She was inspired at an early age by Peter's work. While we are not planning a career in patristics at this point, she is keeping her options open, while studying the urban environment and community arts (I think it means that you know how to paint a mural next to the community garden, but it is similar to patristics in that it is all Greek to me).


On another topic, the girls and I spent a little time yesterday reading the liner notes and lyrics from the Brothers Twain album. We all felt the love.

Joyeuse....., and all that

At the Auberege de Grand Sacconex

Courtesy of Peter. Note Pedro in the background.

Today's Verse: 22 December 2009

I wanted a great man
To be
Love
Worship
Serve
Slay
Mourn
Worship
Love
Serve
Be

Today's Verse: 10 December 2009

What brought the rat in the gents
I'd like to know what brought it
Was it transient like a passenger
Or did it have a goal
For which it vanished beneath a bench
That runs along a wall
Acknowledged, by avoiding, me
I respected its need for discretion

I can't think of everything
I'm cursing cause I lost it
Maybe the boss
At a cost
Bears a cross
Inside's soft
Exhausted

Wherever he is the boy is scared of serpents
Though at home he lives in comfort
Cause he believes he is free
From sudden lunges and sibilant surprises
When traveling a sneaking suspicion awakes
That he may not be entirely safe

I can't think of everything
But the boy may just have something there
Maybe I too should take care
Beware
The unseen snake's
Silent steady intent
Thrust
Agape

I've seen a newborn puppy plays underneath the hedgerow
Who'll raise the whelp to bare his shiny fangs in an agreeable grin
To winningly sport and ingratiate
Readying to sink them deep in
Love or hunger
Any way appetite

I can't think of everything
It's morning and I gotta go
About my business
Just like everyone I know
Selfless in pursuit of self
It's in my chromosomes

A diaphanous fold of phlegm floats above
Rising on visible currents of warmth
Blissed out on its own beauty and menace
Patient and only apparently passive
Like a sigh of the inevitable
Wonder what it makes of me

I can't think of everything
I'm sorry I lost it
Lost it completely
I was feeling the pressure
In the grip of the vice
Crushing my spirit
Vexing my mind
I'm sorry I lost it
Now I'm just fine

Songs for the New Depression: It's No Fun Being Poor

It’s no fun being poor
It’s really quite a bore
It’s not as much fun as some people think
There’s no glamour, there’s no glitz
It’s pretty much the pits
It’s no fun being poor, it kind of stinks
I thought that I could be like Garbo in Camille
But when my tummy’s rumbling it’s all too sadly real
The worry’s made me ill
Can’t afford a doctor bill
It’s no fun being poor and that’s for sure!

It’s no fun being poor
No money for the grocery store
I’ve had Top Ramen three nights in a row
Can’t stand KM&C
Guess it’s beans and rice for me
It’s no fun being poor and I should know
Not going out to restaurants is what I find the hardest
I don’t think I was cut out for the life of a starving artis
tBefore I give up the ghost
I’ll have mayonnaise on toast
It’s no fun being poor and that’s for sure

It’s no fun being poor
The landlord’s at the door
Saying he’ll kick me out on my caboose
He says that he’ll evict me
But no jury would convict me
For spending my last few bucks getting juiced.
Mother Theresa may have taken a vow of poverty
It made her loved by millions but it won’t make a saint out of me
Being poor’s no joke
Bumming your last smoke
It’s no fun bring poor and that’s for sure!

Well Jim I didn't bring you anything for your birthday, but I'm trying to build a fire on the first cold day here in Berkeley and drinking Spanish wine and I wish you were here with us playing your guitar. Here's to 50 more.

While we're on the subject of alternative headgear

and Thanksgiving, I would like to present this recent discovery from my daughter's closet.
I don't know if Dionysius himself recommended it, but it is good to be nice to your mother-in-law, in any event.

A little something I learned from Dionysus

Songs for the New Depression: Papa Stay and Fight

Papa called me to his side
And told me plain and clear,
“Son, you know my time has come
I have to move from here
Though it breaks my heart to say it
I fear I must take flight
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”

He said, “The land has turned to dust
And there’s no grass or grain
And though all day it thunders,
There’s hail instead of rain
The livestock is all starving
And stricken down with blight.
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”

He said, “The water’s noxious now
There’s nothing left to drink
The creek here runs as red as blood
The fish died, and they stink
The sky’s covered with locusts
The day’s as dark as night
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”

I said, “Papa, we Auerbachs
Have always worked this land
We’ve built the house and barn
With our hard-working hands
We’ve suffered and we’ve struggled
And toiled with all our might.
The farm’s your home”, I said to Papa.
“You must stay and fight.”

He said, “My body’s swollen
And covered with boils and sores
It’s time to cross that river
To a home on the other shore.
And there I will be healed and whole
And bathed in gentle light.
It’s time to go, I can’t stay here.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”

Toy Piano

The show is over
Ended bleakly
No brass band
And no soprano

Out of tune and
Playing weakly
Tinkling on a
Toy piano

Our song still plays on….

Today's Verse: 17 November 2009

Something slipped
my mind
slipped just
out of reach
then out
of sight
then
forgot it
partly
entirely

On the edge
Around the periphery
Obscured by rocks
In shadows
Darkness

Glimpse movement
recognize it
the instant
fleeting
gone
again

Not forgotten

Dig the classic T.

Peter and Jim, thank you for the kind birthday wishes. You make an old roundhouse man's eyes fill with water. I had a delightful Election Day weekend: Juliana took me to Yosemite National Park, where the schedule was more or less the following: early afternoon, hiking; late afternoon, drinking wine; evening, reading Moby Dick. It could only have been improved by the company of old friends.

Happy Birthday Johny!

I hope you're being treated well
From morning until night
That pleasure and fulfillment tell
The story of your life

I hope your noble spirit soars
Through depths to breathless heights
Encompassing the earth and more
Exulting in its flight

I wish that I could be this day
In your cherished company
To wonder at the way we are
And how we came to be

Though far away, you're in my mind
Your presence I perceive
First Jim, now you, have crossed the line
What next shall we conceive?

Half a Century

At half a century
our thoughts begin to tend
towards how we may support ourselves
when colder days descend

At half a century
through spectacles we look
and must resort to stronger ones
when we would read a book

At half a century
one feels assorted aches
and some of them may have to do
with thoughts of past mistakes

At half a century
new lines on face appear
and what we've made ourselves to be
becomes a bit more clear

At half a century
old questions still remain
they rattle round and round within
a more hard-wired brain

At half a century
a friend is still a friend
and may God grant you many years
before your years shall end


Happy Birthday, Johny!

Sub Mission

Today's Verse: 24 October 2009

There's more to life
There's death
Your wish
Second most dear
Close held
Compressed
A burning coal
Fire

From when you're socialized
Accustomed to your place
A kernel of lust
Passionate kin
Of its creative twin
Is conditioned, constrained, controlled
Within

The ever mounting desire to consume
Purge, annihilate, destroy
Tamed, ignored, caged
Rationalized

It wants out
To express its dark
Nature
To rage

A current may
Forge a channel
To a rising tide
That swells and frees it
To merge, fulfilment
In grand deluge

The tide recedes
Desire contracts
Once more enclosed
Concealed
All 'round
Just under the skin

Today's Verse: 13 October 2009

I'm friends with the door
It won't shut me out
I'm friends with the floor
It won't let me down

I'm friends with the clock
That sits by the bed
Its steady tick tock's
Like a poem I read

Chorus:
I like my friends
I like them there
Whether they know
Whether they care

I like my friends
Like them alot
Whether they're good
Whether they're not

My friendship's a railway
With weeds in between
It bisects the forest
Dark silent unseen

My friendship's a country
Of mountains and plains
It hitchhikes on highways
And wanders back lanes

My friendship's a stranger
Obscure and complete
My friendship's in danger
Exciting and sweet

My friendship's a chain gang
Partners in crime
Entangled in mischief
Imprisoned in time

I'm friends with the losers
Who lose though they cheat
I'm friends with the bruisers
Who battle defeat

I'm friends with the lovers
I'm friends with the bums
I'm friends with the others
Who leave them the crumbs

I'm friends with the nigger
Whose secret I keep
I like the grave digger
Who'll put me to sleep

The soldier the preacher
The tin-hearted whore
We've been friends for years
We'll be many more

Be your own best friend
Psychologists say
Why should I pretend
Why put on a play

I belong to our friendship
It's not part of me
Without it I'm blind
Within it I see

Your room is ready, sir

I had hoped to hear some 8th anniversary of the war news from James, but perhaps he is honoring Michael's request to "leave politics at the door". In that spirit, I will make no remark on Antonin Scalia's statement that a cross is a suitable memorial for everyone, Christian or not.

Fata Morgana

I just saw the DVD of Fata Morgana, and on the commentary track Herzog explains that the man and woman playing the drums and piano are in fact a pimp and a madam. Far from expressing Spartan joy, they were generally glum and occasionally brutal. The bass drum with the windmill doesn't say "Rejoice" (as the Spartan's toy drum kit did); it says "Rojo", because the brothel was named El Molino Rojo.

Today's Verse: 4 October 2009

Thank you mister ray
And thank you johnny
You made my day
You made it funny
Hell

Amen sister ray
In darkness kneeling
Say billy gray
Say that you're feeling
Well

After the transformation
And the fall from grace
After the criminalization
Of the human race

I know my future
Will not be blank
Though I may be crazy
Mad as a crank
You can wager on that
Take it to the bank
Cause I left the boat
Before it sank
And I spilled the drink
That Socrates drank
And I made my friends
Before they stank
I'm shouting hosannas
And offering thanks
To comfort myself
My future's not blank

Bless you uncle dick
And bless you peter
We had our kicks
Passed out in the theatre
Aisles

Adieu darling jim
Vaya con dios
Outlook is grim
Forecast more of those
Smiles

After the revelation
Transcendant sublime
Comes sweet inspiration
Generous and kind

And I know my future
Will not be blank
Though I think I'm crazy
Mad as a crank
You can wager on that
Take it to the bank
Cause I left the boat
Before it sank
And I spilled the drink
That Socrates drank
And I made my friends
Before they stank
I'm singing hallelujah
And offering thanks
To comfort myself
My future's not blank

Songs for the New Depression: It's A Sin To Despair

Well things are looking bad, it’s true, with no end in sight
But that’s no time to give up and say we’ve lost the fight
We can’t know what will happen, but never live in fear
Try to love your fellow man and to be of good cheer

‘Cause it’s a sin, sin, sin to despair
As long as we’re alive we have to care
No matter how bad things get
We’ll all pull through it yet
And it’s a sin, sin, sin to despair

Some folks think that they can do it on their own
Some folks can, but remember that we are not alone
When you see a man is down, know that he’s your brother
The one way that we all can win is if we help each other

‘Cause it’s a sin, sin, sin to despair
Look for that helping hand that might be there
No matter how bad things get
We’ll all pull through it yet
And it’s a sin, sin, sin to despair


Until a man’s been tested he may think that he is strong
But when faced with temptation, he can’t tell right from wrong
No man is so righteous that he knows he’ll never budge
So try to show some kindness and judge as you’d be judged

‘Cause it’s a sin, sin, sin to despair
So try to stay awake and be aware
No matter how bad things get
We’ll all pull through it yet
And it’s a sin, sin, sin to despair

Today's Verse: 29 September 2009

Repudiate look
Repudiate touch
Repudiate desire
Repudiate temptation
I'm all for repudiation
In advance
A license to succumb
Because I believe in redemption
For those who've loved enough

For the reunion show in Seoul ...

Let's do a Bo Diddley tribute band: the No Diddleys. ("... you can't judge the one by looking at the other...")

Songs for the New Depresssion: My Bubble Burst

I thought that you and I could build an empire
That no one else could stop us, we’d be first
I thought that we could look down on the entire
World, but now I found my bubble’s burst.

I had it all planned out to perfection
So we could live our lives like we’d rehearsed
How could I know you’d take another direction?
I know too late and now my bubble’s burst.

I never thought that it could be all over
I never thought that you would want to bail
I thought our lives would just be spent in clover
I thought we had to be too big to fail

And now I am a man without a penny
Living on a crust and on a curse
Of all the things I love, I haven’t any
Too late for me, ‘cause now my bubble’s burst.

Today's Verse: 17 September 2009

How bad is it?
I have an invitation
To visit Finland
Not sure am I
How sincere is it
I'd like to believe
Deeply truly
Love to learn
Something good 'n' eager
Awaits
To delight me
In that cold still vacuum

How bad is it?
Conjure hockey vodka darkness
Mad midsummer
Naked steam frenzy
In the ice and black waters
And forests
I can see myself
Rowed to death
Chattel froze over
Voice immobile
No way out
And nowhere to go

How bad is it?
Dry here
Just dust
My bath and blanket
Frogs stopped jumping
James Brown
Resounds in my mind's
Chest
Can't tell if the thing on the wall's
Alive
Or the wind's just blowing
It to and fro
A guy's Mom's dying
Wants money and religion
I got none

How bad is it?
Well I licked the blues
Relieved myself of a great
Burden
Gone way under
All the way
Through to the other side
Alas no rest on that shore
It started to crawl
Twist and supurate
I grasp but cannot hold
Embrace but fold
What looked so bold
Now is old and getting older

How bad is it?
When you don't care
If your teeth rot
Your mind silts up
You're stained and tainted
And completely satisfied with yourself
And all you survey
You're even thinking charitably
How bad could it be?

A Killer--a thriller! Every woman's loving man!

As requested. The only archival picture I could find.

Today is Tracy's birthday
She's 49 years old
Let's have a great big party
With Michael Coss in Seoul!


Happy birthday Tracette. Let it flow with you, 'cause you're on the right track

Stern Measures Are Called For!

I have a great big "Hodie Ringdads" from none other than "Boss" Coss via Facebook. He's a Chief of Staff in Korea, now, it would appear and this link has a little more of his CV.

Today's Verse: 8 September 2009

I woke in the night
A stranger stood
At the foot of the bed
Bare back
Face to the mirror
Waiting for the wounds to heal

This is the only picture from Cotati I have. I was wearing a zoot suit and my cowboy hat. I'd hoped I'd look like Bryan Ferry dressing as Hank Williams, but instead I think I just looked like Ben Stein in those insurance commercials.

If you're goin' to San Francisco ...

http://www.strictlybluegrass.com/2008/artists.shtml

You'll be lucky to be able to see Nick Lowe on 3 October! Sharing a stage with ex Mrs. Lowe (Carlene Carter). Dave Alvin is also playing the same stage. I saw him in Zurich a while ago, good fun.
Will join you if I can find some hair to put the flowers in.

Today's Verse: 28 August 2009

Now I know how others do it
Now I know it's done
Now I know how all men feel
Now I know how come
I embraced dark mystery
I was embraced in turn
Surrendered unto reverie
Then clearly did discern
I and all men are but one
Expression of desire
Variations on a theme
Embodied in a liar

Today's Verse: 23 August 2009

"I don't know who I'm supposed to be",

Jesus answered naturally

"Son of god and son of man

I don't know who the fuck I am

Now you ask I be re-born

Once again in human form

Go to hell you selfish prick

I never died, I just got sick

And please don't ask about the kids

I'm not proud of all I did

Why should I be a better dad

Than the ones I never had

Joseph was an errant fool

And God he used me like a tool

He improvised experiments

Devoid of laughs or merriment

Try a new one for a change

I'm tired of the old refrains

Every Sunday, every mass

Jesus gets it up the ass

Where's the pleasure? Where's the fun?

Forget it man, my job is done."

Hooray, today's the Cotati Accordion Festival!

Today's Verse: 17 August 2009

I love
To go to
A place I found
To go to
Can't hardly wait
To go to
Somewhere I love
To go to

I want
To go to
Where they know me
Where they can show me
New ways
To go to
Where I want
To go to

I'm thinkin' about
A place I love
To go to
Can't help thinkin'
About where I like
To go to

I'm on the way
Where I want
To go to
I'll soon be there
Somewhere I want
To go to

You'll see me

Go

Whenever you like

Somewhere I like

To go to

You too can go
You can go too
Where you want
Wherever you want
To go to

If you want to
I can come too
Somewhere you want
To go to

I want
To go to
Where I want
To go to

I want
To go too

Happy birthday, Papa! It seems like a long time since you've been gone.

Today's Verse: 1 August 2009

Vermin too rise with a tide
Acquire talents to survive
Set up shop in any toehold
They may find
And render homage silently
To all they leave behind

Today's Verse: 31 July 2009

Good morning young loafers
Play hookey with me
Let's lie in the grass and stare up at the trees'
Canopies
Let's chuckle, get excited about
Freedom and license and ease
The day seems like endless
And we're not afraid to die
That's a joke, isn't it
Irrelevant
What do we care for the inanimate
The unfeeling, inert
We've got the whole day ahead of us
Nothing but whatever we please
Let's lie here, savour luscious memories
Of pleasure and joy and pleasant surprises
Let's lie here, intrepid, fearless
Let's be ridiculous
Come loaf with me

Today's Verse: 24 July 2009

Do you want to see

What it looks like inside me

You can't take it out

Without messing it up

But let me tell you

There's strange shapes

Packed tight and dripping

A factory of life forms

Working hard

Keeping me alive

From seed to sprout

To old, rotten lumber

I won't fall apart

I'll dissolve

Inside out

That's where I'm coming from

That's what makes me attractive

Or is it my wig

Or some hoax I wrote or spoke at dinner

Or the way I resemble your

Papa or mama

Or fuck like your brother could

I don't mind seeming someone else for you

You'd do the same thing too

Deep down inside we know

We make it up

As we go along

Taking a chance

Fifty-fifty

On nothing

En la casa de las letras

The Original Narcofood

From the Italian Futurist Cookbook, published in 1932, a few choice recipes:

Drum Roll of Colonial Fish: Poached mullet marinated in milk, liqueur, capers, and red pepper and stuffed with date jam, banana, and pineapple. "It will then be eaten to a continuous rolling of drums."

Words in Liberty Sea Platter: A watermelon half at sail across a sea of endive, with a tiny captain sculpted from Dutch cheese commanding a crew of calves' brains cooked in milk. "The sea and the ship are sprinkled with cinnamon or red pepper."

The Excited Pig: "A whole salami, skinned, is served upright on a dish containing some very hot black coffee mixed with a good deal of eau de Cologne."

White and Black: "A one-man show on the internal walls of the Stomach consisting of free-form arabesques of whipped cream sprinkled with lime-tree charcoal. Contra the blackest indigestion. Pro the whitest teeth."

Possible cabaret act name: Miss Otis Tourettes

Today's Verse: 16 June 2009

Lighten up and listen
Joy belches up
Gut solar plexus windpipe
Bursting out your skin
Chin lips shiny cheeks eye dimples
Radiate

Today's Verse: 10 June 2009

Waiting for a meteor
To strike
God's own son and daughter
Astride it
Making love
To a big black snake
Of fire

I'll polish the solitaire
And do a little dusting
Wonder if there's
Enough in the fridge
For tomorrow

Either the phone's always
Ringing
Or no one calls

Until then

Those who rely on this space for Robert Wyatt updates may be interested to know that the Orchestre National de Jazz has released an album called "Around Robert Wyatt".  They are a Carla Bley-ish French little big band who play mostly older songs, sung with funny Maurice Chevalier acccents, but the Maestro himself does sing on a few originals.  It's a little hit-or-miss as tribute albums are wont to be, but well worth the listen.

After reading "Paradise Lost" and some of Blake's longer poems last year, I've jumped into Wordsworth's "The Prelude".  It's a little slow going, but I quite like it and find it much more engaging than that Lucy Grey crap I remember from high school.

The Tuba

Memorial Day, 2009

"Words on paper it just seems like something already spent. Like snow it's only snow while it's falling the next day it's something else."

--from "The Voices of Ghosts (Memorial Day, 1989)"

Today's Verse: 19 May 2009

Crackpot on a tether
Intones I'm loving it
Old dog lies unstill
Chews steady on tough dry past
See blind mice their naked feet
Nesting in the wall
Haven't eaten anything at all
Sleeping like there's no tomorrow
Crackpot's loving it
The kid's grown up
Consumed
Didn't want to be popular he thought
Can't help adoration
Real fulfillment's unseemly
Not that
Crackpot's cackling
Bring out the goats
Content friendly hungry
Days pass they die get strung up eaten
In the shade

This is a picture of me wearing my new cowboy hat in the kitchen.  We have a very small kitchen

Today I planted tomatoes and bought a cowboy hat.

Well well, it appears that Cathy Randall is to marry Robert Schainbaum.

The Chicken Tape version of "Changing Like The Moon" came up on my Ipod today, by the way, and, aside from the flugelhorn part, that is one killer track.

iAddictive

I just got an iPhone, and it won't let me stop. There really are apps for everything, and I must have more. I downloaded a Tarot app, since I need to be able to do readings anywhere for anybody. Or just look at the Fast Fun card whenever I want to.

We believe that today is the birthday of Mister Critters Petcenter.  Happy birthday Stephen; I wish I had a video shot out of a car window for you.

For Stephen Leach

Today we received a piece of junk mail from AT&T addressed to "Magic Wonder Show at 1315 Cornell Ave. (or current resident)."  I'm not sure which we are.

Still does.

I dreamed I was John Cale, giving a concert and throwing a tantrum. Of course, I was John Cale playing the tuba.

Night Sky, Hold Me Tight !

Flying out of Amman tonight after a mind-blowing 2.5 weeks in the Arab world. Played Frisbee in the Gaza slums, rode camels around the pyramids, trucks into Wadi Rum, and horses up to the High Place of Sacrifice at Petra. Drove all over Jordan in a little red car. Got a little tired of falafel, so we closed out the dining portion of the trip at an Indian restaurant in a fancy hotel. Looking forward to Springtime in DC, but once you've been Meester Jeemee, it is hard to come back down.

Take me to the Bridge

I've been struggling for days trying to come up with a little superfluous bridge for your "Let's get fucked up" song. How about:

It's not audacity
Darling I'm not audacious
It's common sensual
Dammit that's how God made us

Hungry?

I've been listening to some Fast Fun in the car lately, although the CD I have is kind of scratched. I really regret not bringing a more joyful sound to the vocal stylings. It is always heartbreaking to think of all the happiness we have inside ourselves that we are unable to express to those around us. But that just gives us another chance to have some fun trying to express it in the future, right?

Anyway, I was struck by a frame of some dumb comic strip in today's Washington Post, although it did not relate to interventionist foreign policy, or even big-badness.

I'll be leaving for Egypt, Gaza, and Jordan on Wednesday with a Code Pink delegation. I'll be sure to eat before I go, prophylactically.

Dennis and I are doing another performance at the end of March. This one will be a Songwriter's Karaoke, in which the audience will be invited onstage to sing our songs. Here's one I wrote for it on the evergreen topic of getting schnockered out of your goozie:
 
Let's get fucked up
Let's go and get high
Let's slip out together
Just you and I

Lets get fucked up
I don't mean to be rude
Let's tell all the others,
"Sorry dude".

Let's get fucked up
Let's leave the world behind
Sorry--please excuse us--
If you don't mind

Let's get fucked up
Let's go have a time
Let them all say that
It's just a crime

Let them point and laugh
And try to shame us
Bet they'd laugh and clap
If we were rich and famous

Let's get fucked up
Let's make a world of two
Let's go and get high
Just me and you

We're having  a moustache-growing contest at work.  I can't say that I'm likely to win, but it's an honor just to compete.  Mine has reached the caterpillar-under-the-nose stage.

Children come to see the place/ Where Abe Lincoln once said grace

I hope Peter doesn't mind, but I'd like to link to a short piece he wrote on his own blog on the occasion of Abraham Linclon's 200th birthday.  Happy birthday, Abie baby.

On the TV show "The Wire", set in Baltimore, one of the characters says, "What am I, Captain Chesapeake?" Ah, the happy memories of Bruce the Box. "Six bells, that means it's time for Batman!"

The Funniest Thing I've Ever Heard Anyone Say About A Vasectomy

The husband of the Mad Maggies' clarinet player had a vasectomy last year.  Brian, the bass player,  thought it made him less of a man.  I suggested that Brian was confused about the difference between a vasectomy and castration.  No, I know, he said, but still.  Oh it's the same, Rhian said.  It's just decaf.

Today's Verse: 30 January 2009

Facial tissues: necessary evil
Or
Life quality index?
What to do
With the stuff that comes from the nose?
And tears?
Who advocates return to the uncomely snotrag?
Lumpy and soiled in a ball in your pocket?
Or the dainty ladies hanky?
Can't handle volume but has other uses as well, courting rituals.

It's only the uncouth regions whose indigents are blind to their deprivation
And freely honk and spray without shame or inhibition.

Yet it pains me to imagine the unfortunate tree
That lived and died to provide me a wipe.
May I not somehow return the favor?
Donate my corpse to an Arboreal Service Brigade?
I fear they'll have no need of my remains
Other than to festoon them to attract carrion feeders
Like the Parsis do.
No skin off my nose.

100 Days

NPR did a story yesterday on the exhibit that I worked for the FDR Library that covers his first 100 days as president. The story connects the themes of the exhibit with the beginning of the Obama presidency. As my co-worker put it: "This is the pinnacle in museum media production - when NPR quotes our exhibits on the eve of a historic presidential inauguration." Here's the link:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=99464140

Happy Inauguration!

Can't remember

What's the French name for the three-paper and matchbook filter cone-style tobacco and hashish joints of which the young people during our time in Geneva seemed to be so fond?

The Critter

I showed Sally some pictures of Stephen from school days and she asked me if I'd send her copies. I post them here that others might enjoy them as well.