Say it isn't so!

little-richard-flamboyant-rock-n-roll-pioneer-dies-at-87

Today's Verse: 22 April 2020

Peter stepped out of his mind
To leave all his troubles behind
His body a shell
That echoes of hell
His eyes though wide open
Are blind

Peter's gone out of his head
To find what it's like to be dead
The things that he feels
Are all very real
But nobody hears what
He said

Peter was Adonis
Peter was Einstein
I can't believe that Peter
Was a friend of mine

Peter's taken leave of his senses
Of posturing and of pretences
He's naked and base
The smile on his face
Betrays not a thought or
Intention

I wonder what got into Peter
A ravenous, glorious creature
It came in the night
Flame burning bright
Transforming his pain into
Pleasure

Peter was Johnny Thunders
Peter was Frankenstein
I can't believe that Peter
Was a friend of mine

Today's Verse: 8 April 2020

I'm looking forward to the time I will forget you
There'll come a day that you'll have vanished from my mind
Every night will be a night that I can get through
And tomorrow is the reason why
I'll be glad you're left behind

Today's Verse: 3 April 2020

Now I have the time to ponder
Have the time to stare
Look out the bedroom window
Life's growing over there

Now I have the time to wonder
Floating in my head
Businesses unfinished
Memories un-dead

Things I need are nagging me
To tend them day and night
But what I want's abandoned me
And taken appetite

Yer Darn Tootin'!

Dennis and I and the rest of the Book of Jones will be doing a live, extended version of this pitch in April.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqQohRwWgjo&feature=youtu.be

There!

A very happy birthday Jymn! Sacrificial remains make it hard to forget.

#116

Recently Dennis and I did a piece at a little Shakespeare event, where he performed a musical setting of Sonnet 116 and then I gave a midrash. In case you forget, here's how Sonnet 116 goes:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
     If this be error and upon me proved,
     I never writ, nor no man ever loved.


And this is what I read, while Dennis backed me up on guitar:

I love that this sonnet about the permanence of love is by the man whose characters are so divinely fluid, whose stories are full of mistaken identities, twins, and men who don’t realize that the boy they like so well is the woman they will marry. That’s comedy, isn’t it, not “the marriage of true minds.”  Ha ha ha. 

Let me be clear. In this sonnet he’s not saying that lovers never change, but that love itself is “ever-fixed,” that it’s “a star to every bark.” Love, we’re told, is not Time’s fool. It’s not a clown, it’s not a chump, it’s not a comedian.  

Let me play the Fool here a bit myself. You may remember that in the plays, the Fool is the character who is allowed to mock the wise. His fooling shows them their own folly. The powerful tolerate him or ignore him; the cleverer or more cynical characters see the wisdom in his folly.  Well that, I think, is what Love does to Time: it mocks the Great King even as it bows to him, keeping for itself, at least for a moment, the pleasures that Time and Death cannot reach.  In that way, maybe Love is Time’s loving Fool.

Think of the most loving and lovable Fool in the plays, the Fool in King Lear. He taunts the King and he teases him; he offers Lear his fool’s hat to wear, and he says that he and Lear together are the sweet fool and the bitter fool. He also follows him into the fierce, raging storm; as in the sonnet, he “bears it out even to the edge of doom.”  To the edge but not beyond, since the Fool famously disappears after that scene. 

In a strange way, in the way of words, the Fool returns at the very end of the play, just before Lear himself dies, when he calls Cordelia, “my poor fool.”  When he hears that Cordelia is dead, he says:   

“And my poor fool is hanged: no, no, no life

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,

And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more

Never, never, never, never, never.”

The moment when he finally acknowledges his love for his “poor fool” is the moment of no no no and never never never never, the moment of death.

Some people say this reappearance of the Fool, a reappearance in name at least, was an inside joke, since Cordelia and the Fool might have been played by the same actor.  Some say that they are actually the same person.  I don’t know about that, but it does befit Love, Time’s Fool, to say to the King, the Father, to Time itself with his bending sickle, as Cordelia does say, “I love your majesty according to my bond, nothing more, nothing less,” which is to say, only infinitely.  That is the bond of love that does not “alter when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove,”  as the sonnet has it. That’s the love that “bears it out even to the edge of doom” and maybe in this case beyond. 

And just to play the Fool a bit further: Perhaps Love has its own Fool, the joker that tries to kid Love, and in the end outlasts love. I mean poetry, I mean these sonnets.  After the lover and the beloved are both gone, after Love itself may have left the stage, the poems stay on to tell the story, like Horatio at the end of Hamlet. 

Touchstone, the fool in As You Like It says that, “the truest poetry is the most feigning” but he’s fooling, right? If love is changeable and fickle, why then, the sonnet tells us, Shakespeare never wrote. So tell me, who’s fooling whom?

Happy birthday Johny!

Raising an imaginary cup to my lips, to your health!

Jolly's at home everywhere

Please remind me: what rhymes with "forage"?

Mysteriously, unbidden, "Believe You Me" came to me this evening after a light supper, while I was eating chocolate ice cream.

Another Spring

I do not wish the days were longer
Nor that the sunshine should be stronger
I don’t need to hear the robin sing
Oh, I don’t think that I could bear
The scent of jasmine in the air
No, I could not stand another spring

I don’t want first paperwhites
Or to see children flying kites
Old-fashioned paper ones, with string
And if I heard a tree frog peep
I think that I would start to weep
No, I could not stand another spring

The tiny buds
On willow trees
Do not even
Mention these
The budding in
My tender heart
Can’t be allowed
To even start

Don’t let the sleeping earth awake
I am not ready for the ache
I don’t want to feel the sunshine’s sting
Please don’t ask me then to care
I’d rather sleep here in my lair
Oh no, I could not bear another spring

Flag Half Mast: Overture

I heard the news
Read the story
Lower Old Glory:
Flag half mast

From my house
I didn’t hear the shot
But doubt it not:
Flag half mast

So much fear
So much rage
Untended bodies
Left on-stage

And mine the shame
Mine the debt
I won’t forget:
Flag half mast

Flag Half Mast 1: The Day the Brownshirts Came To Town

The day the Brownshirts came to town, all us boys ran to watch them as soon as school let out. Some of the kids even snuck out early. We were all crazy about their uniforms and we loved the way they marched. They weren’t smiling but we could tell they were on our side, that they were the good guys. And they had guns, real guns, right out on display. Some of the kids knew what kind they were, like, “That’s a Luger,” or whatever. We all wanted to have guns like that. And the girls, they all giggled and waved at the Brownshirts who never waved back of course and we boys hated it, the girls just being dumb girls.

I stayed for some of the rally. It wasn’t that interesting and the music was stupid and there were lots of speeches, but we were happy to be there and see those guys with their uniforms and guns, When I got home little late for dinner and told them where I’d been. Grandma said, “Good for them! They’ll keep us safe.” Dad folded the paper he’d been reading and said, “It’s just trouble. Who needs all this trouble.”  Uncle Louie wasn’t at his place and I asked Mom where he was. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, well he had to go away for a little bit. He’ll be back in a while.” Uncle Louie was always doing weird things like that.

When I finished I asked to be excused. I wanted to run out and play with the guys. I said to Mom, “This is all for TV, right?  I mean, it’s not real is it?” Mom gave me a big hug, maybe a little bigger than I like, and she said, “Run out and play, just be back before it’s dark, OK?” and I went out to play Brownshirts with the guys.

Song: I Saw It On TV

Everyone cheered

Everyone hip-hoorayed

The pomp and pageantry

Yes, everyone cheered

The soldiers on parade

I saw it on TV

We watched them come

They brought us 

Comic books and chewing gum

We saw it on TV

They told us they’d build

A new glorious arch

And burn down the library

They told us each week

We’d have a glorious march

We’d see it on TV

We watched them come

They brought us 

Comic books and chewing gum

We saw it on TV

This must be

Reality

We saw it on TV

Flag Half Mast 2: "The Partisans"

I saw a movie on TV last night, or I guess just saw part of one since I fell asleep, about a village under occupation.  First there’s the hero, although when you first see him you don’t know he’s the hero but you do, because he’s handsome and his hair looks nice. He’s down in the village. Up in the hills, the partisans are preparing for some kind of guerilla insurgency. They’re all sort of dark and grim-looking but super-noble, except the one funny guy, the joker who drinks too much who’s dark but not grim.  Back down in the village, there’s the bad girl who wears va-va-va-voom eyeliner and hats with feathers. She is sleeping with the head of the occupying forces. Then there’s the mayor who is utterly corrupt and the simple sweet farm girl with suspiciously beautiful teeth for a peasant.

In the hills, bodies were found with their throats cut. The mayor crumples up a piece of paper he’s holding and says, “These partisans must be stopped!  They are animals!” Poison pen letters have been appearing throughout the village and rumors are spreading and mistrust is building. The beautiful farm girl is accused of aiding the partisans and her head is shaved and it’s implied that she’s raped.

I must have fallen asleep for a while, because the next thing I remember is that the soldiers are all at this farmhouse, although inside it looks my grandma’s house, and they are about to take away the hero who has of course hooked up with the beautiful farm girl, still beautiful even though she’s had her head shaved. The bad girl with the great hats dives in front of a bullet, allowing the hero to escape and redeeming herself in death. The hero is going to do the only thing he can do now, go up into the hills with the partisans and fight the good fight.  The beautiful farm girl weeps and wants to go too and he valiantly makes her stay. She has beautiful, tragic, glycerin tears in her eyes.  Everyone is gone except a couple of dark, older, noble-looking villagers, and one of them says, he says it right to me, “We don’t want to be remembered, we only want to disappear into the shadows once we are victorious.” That was my favorite part, it almost seemed like it came from a different movie. “The wind will blow us all away,” he says, “and we’ll be forgotten. That’s all we ask.” There should have been music there, but there wasn’t any. I fell asleep again after that.

Song: The Anthem of the Partisans

They may spray us with tear gas

They may put us in jail

The strength of our arms may sometimes fail

But the struggle itself will go, on my friends

The struggle itself will prevail

The light may be fading

And we can’t see the flame

Sometimes we lose sight of our ultimate aim

But the struggle itself will go on, my friends

The struggle goes on all the same

We may compromise

Or join the enemy

We may prefer comfort to a life that’s free

 But the struggle itself will go on, my friends

 This struggle is bigger than you and me.

Flag Half Mast 3: Angry White Male

Once upon a time, and it wasn’t that long ago, I was king of this town and everybody knew it.  I could do whatever I wanted, I could shit on this place if I wanted to, because I was king.  Listen, I could get on any city bus and snap my fingers and someone would give me a seat, because they knew they had to.  Me and the guys, we’d do a couple of lines of itching power and Kaopectate and go out to the dance clubs and just beat our heads to the stupidest music you imagine, I mean it was really dumb, but no one could say a thing. And people couldn’t see us, they couldn’t hear our music, but also they had to see us, they had to hear the music, because we were so angry and the music was so dumb. So dumb and so loud.

Now everybody tells me, just stand in line, go suck your thumb, wait your turn. I should be able to grab whatever I want to, and they say just listen to Mother, we’ll get everything straightened out. I’ve been waiting my whole life.  How many people have better things than me, they’re not better than me, and they didn’t even wait their turn and the best anyone can come up with is be patient, listen to the grown-ups, things’ll get better if we all follow the rules. If we all follow their rules, that’s all they mean.  It’s just like everything these days: society tells you what to care about, what to think.

I remember those beautiful boys in their uniforms, and those coked-up swastika girls, they had bad perms and wore braces, but they were the most beautiful girls anyone had ever seen. They dressed up like Nazis but they weren’t really Nazis, they weren’t going to kill anyone, but they could, that’s the thing. They were beautiful and powerful and they could do whatever they wanted. If someone told us it was bad, if your mom and dad hated it, then we wanted it, we would do it and no one could stop us. But nowadays the girls—I don’t know what happened, but all the girls I used to know are fat now, and they talk too much and the girls who do matter, the ones who should be listening to me now, they don’t care.  It’s not like it used to be, things have changed, but I’m still the same. I’m still pissed off.  You can’t see me, you still can’t hear me, but I’m still pissed off.

 

Song: Democracy Has Failed!

Democracy, my friends, is a joke
It’s a bag of greasy donuts and a 40-ounce Coke
It’s Taylor Swift and Kim Kardashian
Underwear worn as fash-i-on

We had a mighty ship of state
But now that ship has sailed
Take a look around you, friends
Democracy has failed

The people, friends, are a beast
For facts they care not in the least
Life’s a matter of team sports
The color of your cap and the color of your shorts

We can no longer fool ourselves
The truth has been unveiled
Take a look around you, friends
Democracy has failed

Letting the people decide is always a mistake
They’ll gorge themselves on grocery-store cake
The kind with cheap Crisco icing
Available for you at cut-rate pricing

We’re holding our breath, awaiting the worst
It’s time we just exhaled
Take a look around, you fools
Democracy has failed

Flag Half Mast 4: Twilight's Last Dreaming

I like to watch TV. I like sitting on the couch in the dark and watching. I like older TV shows especially. Like Ralph Kramden: he yells a lot and he threatens to hit his wife, but you know he won’t. He can’t. I mean, that’s the joke.  Or Archie Bunker: he’s a bigot and racist, but you like him. You feel bad for him. But now TV is different, or maybe it’s real life that’s different. Like, reality TV, it’s not real except then it becomes real.  What would it be like to be young now, and instead of seeing stuff on TV that you’d seen in real life, seeing stuff in real life that you’d seen on TV? The world is just a projection of your imagination, fantasy is reality, how great is that?  Except that what most people fantasize about is stupid and selfish, just about power and sex and always coming in first. Why be Fay Wray when you can be King Kong. Why be either when you can be both.

I don’t know what will happen now to people who like to lie on the couch in the dark and watch.  Will we just be taken advantage of, ignored, left in the darkness? I guess the story everyone wants is that we stand up and go into the hills to join the good guys. Whoever they are. Sign up for a team, wear the team colors and wave the team flag.  I hate all that stuff, I hate team sports, I don’t want to be on anybody’s team.

That reminds me of a dream I had the other night. In the dream I was asleep, or anyway I woke up and there was a huge fire, it wasn’t just my house, everything was on fire and I was trying to find my way out but it was so smoky, and then it was all flames, I couldn’t run anywhere I was just trapped.    Then somehow the fire stopped, I guess it was later, I was still in the same place but everything had burned down and there was nothing standing any more except the beams of the house and the fireplace. I wasn’t inside or outside anymore, everything was burned down and smoldering and covered with ash.  Flying from the beams of the house were all these flags, just at shoulder height and covered with ash.  It was almost dark but there was just a little blue light coming from somewhere. I stood there, I didn’t know what to do, and I realized that there was something in the house still, this is the weird part, I mean there wasn’t even a house left but there was something, it was like a spirit or a ghost, there was something still there, we’d forgotten or didn’t even know it was there before but now it was the only thing left, and I thought…I felt like crying, but I thought, if ever there was a moment for singing…I don’t know. I mean, it was just a dream. 

Song:  Partisans (reprise)

The light may be fading
And we can’t see the flame
Sometimes we lose sight of our ultimate aim
But the struggle itself will go on, my friends
The struggle goes on all the same

Today’s Verse: 17 February 2019

I like how you make

Words superfluous

Talk anyway

Cause you’re mellifluous

So am I

I like how you rend

Me unnecessary 

Love anyway

You’re not in a hurry

Neither am I

I want to be

Your happy bed

Be your sleep

Be your rest

I want to be

Your happy bed

Be your dream

Be your death

I wish I was

A happy bed

I’d never rise

I’d never set

I’d never let

The world depress me

Fuck me up

Or upset me

I wish I was

A happy bed

Today’s Verse: 15 February 2019

It is great

To be alive

Stolen moment

Secret smile

Today’s Verse: 9 February 2019

I find it hard to sympathise
With conditions of suffering
I will never know
Unknown diseases with
Sad complications
Names like Latin,
Not really though
Or endless wealth
Eternal life
Sex appeal
And it’s endowments
Memory
That’s photographic
Brilliant wit
That cuts like a knife

Movies try
But don’t succeed
(I don’t think
They really want to)
Make me feel
He’s really sad
To live forever drinking
Blood like sex
Or she’s real unhappy
With her drugs
He can’t find love
Cause his cock
Is too big
And his smile
Is too nice
She remembers the name
Of everybody she’s met
While he cracks a joke
That cracks everyone up

So when they get it
In the end
Betrayed by everyone
Left in the dark
To moan
Stabbed, crushed, and dropped
Ignored, condemned, forgotten
Oh well I say
And wander home

Today’s Verse: 6 February 2019

Who gives a shit’s

Sad rejoinder

You’d submit

I’d employ her

Dick goes here

There’s the hole

Light ignited

You have scored

Who gives a shit

How many times

You express

Your suicide

Any night

Any venue

It doesn’t matter

But if you can you

Find somebody

To absolve me

Exonerate and 

Corroborate me

Who gives a shit

That I love you

I can’t be me

Not thinking of you

Who gives a shit

And who can say

Why go on talking

Another day

 

Today’s Verse: 25 January 2019

I’m not who you think I am
I’m not a quiet, little man
Little in the p and l
The p and l that goes to hell
I’m not who you think I am

You’re not who you think you are
You’re not a brilliant superstar
A star that shines so proud and bright
So proud and bright provokes the night
You’re not who you think you are

We’re not who you think we are
Think we’re going way too far
Way too far to get ahead
Get ahead to go to bed
We’re not who you think we are

This Song’s All About Me

Everyone you see on the street

Everyone you know or meet

People who are going places

People going nowhere

Every person that you see

Every person came to be

By two people fucking

Everyday you see new people

Some are strong, some are feeble

People who are having fun

People who are having none

Every person came to be

By two people fucking

CHORUS

Two people fucking

Two people fucking

Who would we be?

If not you and me?

Two people fucking

Everywhere you’ll meet somebody

Some you’ll like or maybe not

Somebody who will take you places

Someone who will take you down

Someone who just came to be

By two people fucking

BRIDGE

I like to spare a little thought 

For everyone who’s passed away

They’re getting bigger all the time

Because they never go away

Anyhow you think you’re special

You’re special just like everyone

Everyone who’s going places

Everyone going nowhere

Everyone who came to be

By two people fucking

CHORUS

Repeat 1st verse

CHORUS

High and Wonderful

Hi Johny, not sure if this works for your current Jones project, but I think this rough song structure is very promising. Hope it helps.

I owe you a call

It’s been a long time since we spoke

And a lot has happened in between

Ha ha

Yeah a lot has happened to me

And to you?

I’d like to know how you are doing

Want to know that you’re alright

I want to tell you everything

Can’t figure where to start

Remember how we made an orgy

Surprised ourselves that people came

We looked each other in the face

Observed the border had been breached

(And we had breached it)

The wall twixt pure desire

and actuality

Well, my friend, that’s where I am now

Everything I want somehow comes to pass

Leaves me high and wonderful

Wondering how I got here and

What could possibly come next

Time being what it is

It’s dark in the rear view
Windshield’s blinding bright
White knuckles do the steering
I hope that you’re alright

A mole tells me the future
Scars tell me the past
Every step of every set up
Each one of my disasters

When they said I was, I wasn’t
Now they don’t, I am
When they said I did, I didn’t
Now they don’t, I do

REPEAT 3 verses

To what go they back
When they go back
Go back to themselves
Go way way back

REPEAT endless

Time being what it is, it's possible that your birthday has already ended where you are Jymn. Shine on!

Through the Perilous Night

I put some old solo tuba recordings up for posterity. Here they are, posterity.

Once again

It’s your birthday in a few hours (Singapore time). I like being the first to wish you. Sorry you missed Election Day this year. I hope all your dreams come (came) true.

Thanks for the lovely poster

It will soon be framed and adorning a special corner of 26b Swiss Club Road

Adam & Eve on a Raft

I'm posting the script to Adam & Eve on a Raft for "myself and strangers."

Adam & Eve on a Raft 1: Opening/Expulsion

The man speaks:

Hey, she said.

He didn’t say anything.

Hey, she said, come on. Get up. We have to go.

He tried to pretend he was asleep.

Come on, she said.

I know, he said finally. He knew, but he didn’t think he could move. He couldn’t stand up.

It was so stupid. They’d been living there for free and everything and now they had to leave. Like, right now.  He knew that. He didn’t want to.  It was so stupid.

Look, she said, I— and her voice cracked just a little and he knew he couldn’t say anything.

But, yeah, he said, after a moment. They’ll be here soon. I know.

It was so…look, they hadn’t known, I mean they knew the stupid rules but they hadn’t, they didn’t know anything. They’d always done whatever they wanted to and it had always seemed OK. They didn’t know. And then they did, they did know, and it was too late.

Yeah, he said, and he wished he could just stay curled up where he was. Where they were. Where they both were. It was so nice.  It had seemed like it could have gone on just like it was forever but it couldn’t.  He knew that.

Someone might say that it was her, that it was her fault, but he knew. It wasn’t what she had done or he had done or what they’d done together, but that he should have stood up for her and didn’t. That he should have stood up when she fell, that he hadn’t been able to do that. He’d folded. He fell.

Don’t forget your coat, she said. That nice leather jacket. She already had hers on. He put it on and they walked out the door.  It closed and never opened again and so they were set adrift, Adam and Eve on a raft.
 

Song: Adam and Eve on a Raft (Theme)

Since we have lost our home
We are always blown
By each passing draft
Now we are floating free
With no certainty
On our little raft

We’re caught up in this maelstrom
Spinning and turning all around
Slowly we disappear
Vanish, or drown

Ah it has been so long
Since we’ve smiled or laughed
On our little raft

We’re caught up in this maelstrom
Spinning and turning all around
Slowly we disappear
Vanish, or drown

Ah it’s been so long
Since we’ve smiled or laughed
On our little raft

Adam & Eve on a Raft 2: The Book of the Book

The woman speaks:

When we left we took with us the Book. The Big Book, The Book of Books, they call it.  Of course when we were living in the garden it didn’t mean anything to us. It was only after, on the way out, that we realized it might be important. That it was put there for us, that it was a gift not to help us in the old place but now, when we’re in exile.

When we opened it, it was blank. Unfortunately. We couldn’t see anything in the pages at all. Still, we would open it and study it as often as we could. Eventually we could see little pictures on the pages. It’s possible that we drew them though. Or maybe they were already there and we just drew what was already there. Eventually, the pictures were like those puzzles that they have on bubble gum cards. Little riddles for us to figure out, but once we figured them out they didn’t make any sense. It was like an endless game of Treasure Hunt: every riddle was a clue and every clue led us to another clue. Every time we gave up, every time we felt like throwing the book against the wall, whenever we turned our back on it, that’s when we were most ready to begin again.

Sometimes we liked it best when we didn’t read it at all but just left it sitting on the shelf. Sometimes that was all we needed it for.

Song: Advent Calendar

Each day has a secret

If you know how to find it

Each secret opens up a door

With a gift behind it

Each gift’s like a mouth

Each mouth has its own word

And every word a saint 

And every saint a bird

Every day is like a new book

Open it up slowly!

Each book is a story in stained glass

All lit up and holy

Each day has a secret room

Where all things belong

Cathedral, atlas, Noah’s ark

Museum, city, song.

Adam & Eve on Raft 3: The Four Sages

The woman speaks:

Once, there were four sages, four holy men, who were the wisest and holiest men of their generation, maybe some of the wisest and holiest men who ever lived and they decided that they would go to Paradise together. Before they left, one of them, Rabbi Akiva, warned the others that when they came to the place of pure marble stones, they should not say, “Water” and he quoted the Psalm that goes, “He who speaks untruths shall not stand before My eyes.”

The visit ended badly though. The first sage died. The second one lost his mind. He went mad, we’re told, “like someone who eats so much honey he makes himself sick.” The third sage became a heretic, and after that no one called him by his name any more. Only the fourth sage, Rabbi Akiva, entered and left paradise in peace.

From which we learn that the ecstasies of the garden can be as destructive as the fires of Gehenna. Sometimes you get swept away. Sometimes your mind is blown. Sometimes you think you can explain it and you’re so absurdly wrong no one wants to listen to you. They take away your name.

The man speaks:  On the first day of creation, light was made,  and on the second day the waters were separated from the sky. Not water from land, water from sky.  “The firmament,” it’s called in the book.  It sounds like dry land, but it’s not. It’s the sky. So maybe—I don’t know—maybe that’s why Rabbi Akiva warned the other sages not to say, “Water” when they saw the pure marble stones.  They were in danger of being overwhelmed and he was trying to separate the water from the sky for them.

Maybe paradise is not where we belong. Maybe water is as dangerous as fire.

Song: Dream the Hardest Dream

Lie, let the darkness come

Let yourself float down the river

Down its sweet, dark stream

Rest, let go of the day

Don't be afraid of night

Dream the hardest dream

You can’t take flowers with you

Just one small smooth stone

Ravens and owls will watch you

You’re not alone

See, the sun starts to dissolve

Goes out like a spark

But stars can only shine 

When the sky grows dark

Lie, hear the river’s song

Words that cannot be spoken

Words that melt in light

Drift into the night

Dream the hardest dream

Adam & Eve on a Raft 4: Spinning on the Dance Floor

The woman speaks:
And eventually they had to stop and just go somewhere and get a drink.  They were tired and it didn’t feel like they were getting anywhere. It wasn’t a very nice place but it wasn’t too loud and it didn’t smell like last night’s party. It was happy hour, so they could get a brandy & soda for $3.

The early evening chatter in the bar was slowly changing from work to banter and flirting, although no one was laughing way too loudly yet or just repeating themselves over and over. It was just an OK place to sit and rest and not talk much and not think about things too much. To get used to no more paradise, just thorn and thistle and the sweat of your brow.

David Bowie was on the jukebox or whatever singing, “You, you can be mean and I, I’ll drink all the time,” and without saying anything she nodded at the little open space and they put their drinks down at the same time, more or less, and stood up and he smiled just a very little bit. It was time to dance.

Song: Spinning on the Dance Floor

You and I are on the dance floor, spinning

We don’t see the cheap décor, spinning

And the tourists and the hicks

They’re only here to pick up chicks

No they don’t know there’s something more, spinning

As I look into your face, spinning

We’re all alone in this place, spinning

Those silly girls are so mistaken

Waiting to get their pictures taken

They don’t know there’s something more, spinning

While we’re dancing, while we’re spinning

In your eyes I think I see

Worlds exploding, worlds beginning

A small map of infinity

In a pond, amoebas make no sound, spinning

Eddies flowing underground, spinning

I only pity those poor clucks

Who grope and feel each other up

And can’t see the galaxies go round, spinning

Adam & Eve on a Raft 5: After the Fall

The man speaks:
After the fall, not only do we need to work to earn a living by the sweat of our brow, and the ground only produces thorns and thistles, and that’s how it goes until you [finger across the throat gesture], but also, somehow, it seems that I’m the only one who can see your beauty now. Sometimes I can hardly see anything else, and yet somehow it’s been hidden from the rest of the world. Maybe this was intended as a blessing, since otherwise the world would spin completely off its tracks, or perhaps just stop dead, entranced. My own heart sometimes feels ready to explode, to leave its shards scattered throughout the world for future generations to collect and reconstruct and learn from.

When I was created, when we were created, I had your face. I mean, we had the same face once.  We shared it.  That was alright. Sometimes after we’ve been talking all night I see my face in the mirror and it seems wrong to see that face I see when I’m shaving, instead of the beautiful woman-face I’ve just spent so much time looking at.  The face I lost, I guess. No, that’s not it. The recollection of the face that was mine before the one I have now.

But what puzzles me is that you yourself don’t seem to be able to see your own beauty.  Maybe you don’t have anywhere to look. Maybe that’s what’s made it hard for you to see it.

Look in my eyes, you can see it there.  I’ll try not to blink. I don’t want the world to accidentally come to an end.

Song: Still Life (with scone)

I’m rushing to get to the place we had named 

Then stop on the sidewalk: you’re perfectly framed 

By the front window of the café 

A still from some cinema verité  

Just this: 

Still life  

You’re sitting at the table alone 

Frowning at some stupid thing on your phone 

Without really looking, you’re trying to pick up 

The scone sitting next to your coffee cup 

Just this:

Still life  

Perfectly frozen, this moment a picture 

The window a frame, you within it 

Not quite real, not quite a fiction 

A memory, a dream, something infinite  

You see me and wave, the spell is then broken 

I’m not quite in a dream, not yet awoken 

Between two worlds, I can’t quite decide 

Then I smile, wave back and go inside 

Is this 

Still life? 

Adam & Eve on a Raft 6: The Language of the Birds

The  woman speaks:
What bothered him, what drove him sort of nuts, was that once, he had understood the language of the birds. The language of all the animals, actually. They were as much fun to listen to as you’d think they’d be. The birds especially. But it’s not like they were actually saying anything. They would say things like, “Yoo hoo” or “Here I am” or “Coming.” The baby birds would say, “Feed me feed me food food food.”

The man speaks: But that’s what was so nice. It wasn’t words, like you hear all the time now. I mean words are fun, I love words, but there’s this very beautiful thing that’s not words, but it’s still, I don’t know, still speech, or still language.  Expression, I guess. Expression without words, and that’s what he’d lost, that’s what bothered him, he’d swapped one kind of knowledge for another.

The woman speaks: Sometimes it would come back, like if he were sitting at the beach listening to the waves, then he’d hear a sound and know that he was hearing the language of the birds again. But if he listened to it too closely then right away he’d lose it and it was words again, words all lined up in a row, not the beautiful language of the birds.

The man speaks: That’s what naming the animals had been like, honestly. You just listened to what they said and it wasn’t really a trick to name them. It was just what they said.  He’d heard that the angels had tried to name the animals and hadn’t been able to, but of course they couldn’t. They couldn’t hear them. I mean, no disrespect but they already knew about good and evil, so of course they couldn’t name them.  You know? They didn’t understand what the animals were saying.

The woman speaks: And this is why the idea of a talking bird is so appealing and yet so absurd. What we want to hear them say has nothing to do with what they’re saying. We’re like the angels now, we know too much.

Song: Small Brown Bird

A small brown bird got trapped in the bar

Where I sat drinking my beer all alone

The barman chased her with a bar towel

And shouted, “Go home! Go home!”

Pursued, she flapped one wing

Hopped up and then started to sing

her song 

And I was the only one who heard

That small blue song from that small brown bird

Adam & Eve on a Raft 7: To Begin Again

The woman speaks:
And so they began one more time, adrift once again on their little raft. She, always the more prudent, protected her exile with silence, or at least quiet. Plain sentences, a nice easy place to hide. He preferred to protect himself with words. Silly, foolish monkey words, a fortress of chatter, a sort of short, goofy-looking Tower of Babel to hide behind. And the beautiful thing is that people stopped listening. From her, they waited for some word that would reveal everything, but from him they knew it would just be something stupid, funny but no more than that. He thought he was awfully clever. She knew why he did it, but she wouldn’t mind if he’d shut up.

The man:  For a bit.

To begin is always to begin again.
At first it was just to get away. Anger and frustration and maybe shame, too. But then to begin again was to try to do better. To hope, at least. This time they had a car. That made it easier. This time there was a cat with them, in a carrier in the car. Maybe it didn’t make it easier to have the cat in the carrier in the car, but it did made it easier to have the cat.

Even on the lam, though, you can make choices.  Even when your world is getting smaller, even when it’s very small, you can still make choices. And the world is still so big. Still so awful, still poisoned, but still not without possibility.

Sometimes, to begin again without even hoping that it’ll be better this time because otherwise, what. To at least pretend you have a reason for wherever it is you’re going this time. Something to tell people, even if it’s no escape at all.


Song: This Prison is a Paradise

Once this world was a prison

Where my bond had no price

I’m still trapped but thanks to you

Now this prison is a paradise

I couldn’t bear this tiny world

Marked only by sacrifice

But now you’ve transformed this cage

Now this prison is a paradise

Dreams, ah I have dreams

I see the world breaking at the seams

And yet somehow I’ve found peace

I’ve found release, yes I am released

In the void, in the dark

The slightest light will suffice

Now I bless you and I thank you

Now this prison is a paradise

Adm & Eve on a Raft 8: Florham Park

The woman speaks:
They pulled over and stayed at a hotel for the night. She woke up sometime in the middle of the night and realized it was snowing. Even without looking out the window, she could tell the snow would be piled up several inches high.  Pain in the ass to dig out the car tomorrow. But while it was in the air coming down, it was perfect.  And that light, she thought. Is it from the reflection of the snow on the ground, or does the snow in the air do something with the light?  She wasn’t sure if her eyes were open or closed any more. Even without looking, she could tell that the snow covered everything, everyone, awake and asleep, living and dead. Even without looking, she knew that everything outside had been made more beautiful by being hidden. She sighed and turned over and tried to feel herself disappearing into the snowy night.

Song: Florham Park

Outside snow starts piling deep

Inside you sigh, smile and turn in your sleep

Soft and silent, a white sheet

Like this blanket covering us, warm and sweet

The snow muffles every sound

Casts an eerie pale light on the ground

You lie sleeping next to me

And it’s all that I’ve known of ecstasy

When it ices, hard and gray

That’s tomorrow, I can wait, that’s OK

You lie sleeping next to me

And it’s all that I need to know of ecstasy

Adam & Eve on a Raft 9: Truth Cast Down

The man speaks: They were sitting in a bus station early in the morning, waiting for the first bus out. She was reading and he had his eyes closed. A family was waiting opposite them. A little boy was playing some kind of game on a phone, and his little brother was swinging his feet, kicking his chair.  No one in the bus station was talking much.

The woman speaks: He opened his eyes and said quietly to her, “When God was planning out the creation of the world, he called in the Angels as consultants. A divine project management meeting. And what turned out to be most controversial was the creation of humans.

“The Angel of Love said, ‘Man will be capable of love in ways that no other creature can be.’ The Angel of Peace said, ‘And yet Man will always be fighting.’ The Angel of Justice said, ‘If you want to bring your Law into the world you’ll need Man, as only he can execute it.’ The Angel of Truth said, ‘And yet Man will always lie, to himself most of all.’

“God considered all this, and then suddenly cast the Angel of Truth from Heaven to Earth, and humans were created after all. The other angels didn’t say anything when they saw their colleague cast down, but God told them, ‘Truth will yet spring back from the earth and rise up to heaven.’

“So now Love and Peace and Justice are up in heaven. But Truth is down here with us, trying to make its way back. It’s another puzzle for us to figure out.”  He nodded. “Right?”

The man speaks: “I don’t think the bus will be here for another ten minutes,” she said. “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee.”

Song: At the End of the World

We’re out of gas and out of luck

We’re down to our final buck

Don’t know how we ended up

Here at the end of the world

We’re free, with nowhere to go

All alone under the mistletoe

Stone broke under the rainbow

Here at the end of the world

A bus comes through every week or two

We never really know which day

And every time it just blows right through 

While we watch it drive away

It’s the end of the line, my dear

We’re killing time just waiting here

No one seems to know that we’re

Here at the end of the world

Last time: 

They say that Truth has been cast down

To rise up one day from the ground

Till then, like us it’s hanging ‘round

Here at the end of the world

Adam & Eve on a Raft 10: Postcard to Eva

The woman speaks:
Dear Eva:
I’m sitting in what must be the most boring hotel bar ever, trying not to hear the most boring music ever, faced with the most boring choice of draft beers ever. Miller or Bud Light. I’m trying not to overhear the two idiot dudes bragging about the fifty seven beers and thirty six shots with a chaser of rat poison they drank last night.  The only reason I’m writing instead of calling you is that you asked me not to call too late and I don’t want to, except I can feel myself falling apart. This morning I was still up when the sun rose. I’d heard the mermaids singing, that same old song, come in with us come in with us come in with us come on come on come on, it always sounds so good, but I didn’t listen to them this time. I know that the waters of Paradise can drown you as easily as the fires of Gehenna can burn you.  I waited and watched the last of the old moon setting, just a tiny crescent, the stars doing a perfectly executed fade-out, me in last night’s clothes, the day already a mess before it had begun. And I wondered, can you call light crepuscular in the morning, or only in the evening? I’m sorry you’re not here. I’m really trying not to bother you. I miss you. I love you. See you soon I hope.

Song: I Don't Feel Like Dancing (After Simko)

I have my directions

Written in some uncertain kind of code

I know the groves and orchards

But not the people I see on the road

I have changed my money

For the paper they use here to pay

At stores where they speak another language

Where street lamp shadows slip on the doorways

Oh I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold my hand tonight

No, I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold me tight

‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more

It is snow.  It’s snowing.

Footprints running like a line of news

Black marks on the white lined paper:

Only history, just an insult, just a bruise.

The fields here don’t quite fit

Like a map I don’t know how to fold

It’s one story.  It still matters

For as long as that story’s told.

Oh I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold my hand tonight

No, I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold me tight

‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more

Even with my eyes closed

I know this place that might have been my home

The woods where trees are still scarred

With my name carved in like a poem.

I barely fill my coat up

The sleeves are empty as the twilight sky

Heading to the empty house where 

I last saw my father cry

Oh I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold my hand tonight

No, I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold me tight

‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more

[adapted from The Arrival, by Daniel Simko]

Adam & Eve on A Raft 11: The Two Boys

The woman speaks:
They had two boys and they lost two boys. The younger one was always empty and the older was always full. Empty, like you couldn’t tell what was in him, and full like he was always filling up but never had enough. One of them killed and one of them died and that’s how they lost both of them. The older one was always on the run, always looking for something more. Like his parents in that way. His mother was so happy when he was born. She said that now she was the one who was full.  He was so bright. I mean not just smart and clever, though he was, but there was a brightness, always as a child this beautiful brightness you had to love.

They never understood the younger one. They didn’t understand what was there. Here and then gone. But he loved his parents, that’s for sure. He was quiet, it’s hard to remember him saying anything, but so affectionate. It was hard for them to believe he was dead. It broke their hearts.

The man speaks: Afterwards the older one went off to the Land of Nod. He completely disappeared from their lives.

This is what the Book says: “And Cain spoke with Abel his brother: and it came to pass when they were in the field that Cain rose up against Abel his brother and slew him.”  They never saw either of them again.

Song: The Two Boys

Once there were two boys

Both their parents’ pride

One brother killed

The other brother died

Once there were two boys

Generations turn

Families reverse

The blessing can

Become a parent’s curse

Generations turn

And so the lender 

Becomes the debtor

And the begotten 

Begets the begetter

Sin waits at your door

Yet you still may rule

Was that bleak 

Judgment kind or cruel?

Once there were two boys

Adam & Eve on a Raft 12: Finale/Chatter & the Noise

The woman speaks:  
Once, there were four sages, four holy men, the wisest and holiest men of their generation and they decided that they’d go to Paradise together. One died, one went mad, one became a heretic and only Rabbi Akiva entered and left paradise in peace.

[Vocal reprise of “Adam & Eve on A Raft Theme.”]

The man speaks: 
Right, those four sages who decided they’d go to Paradise together. Their win/loss record is pretty unimpressive. Only one of four. There’s two of us, and it’s not like we’re the wisest and holiest of our generation or anything, so the odds don’t exactly seem to be in our favor. But look, we were born in paradise, we may not be that wise or holy, but that’s our home.

Woman: Was our home. We got asked to leave.

Man: Was our home. Right. Thanks for reminding me, I might have forgotten. Look, I don’t want to return and live there forever, I just want to enter and leave Paradise in peace.  I just want to visit. It was so nice there. All the animals and the trees and flowers and oh man, the food.

Woman: The food was so good. But now we know. We know it wouldn’t be the same.

Man: We should do it. We should just do it. I don’t care if I go mad or become a heretic. I don’t even care that much if I die, although it won’t work if you die. If you die and I, I don’t know, I become the heretic, then no. No, I think I would go mad then.

But what is that ocean that envelops you there? What is it that’s so beautiful that it’s unbearable? Is it love? Is it some kind of overwhelming love that’s not meant for humans?  No, it has to be. It must be for us, that’s where we come from. How could that enormous, tidal, overflowing…I mean, I don’t even know the words for it. How could that kind of love not be for us?

Woman: But what about the other kind of love? You know, the me-and-you kind? I mean, that’s what we have every day. I like it.

Man: I know. I like it too. It’s awfully nice. I guess we belong here now. I guess. It’s just so awful most of the time. No wonder we’re always beginning over again. What if this is really it?

Song: Chatter & the Noise

There is a place without music 

A place of quiet and rest 

There’s a place with no words 

A place for the bless’d.  

And yet dear Lord I love this world 

Its troubles and its joys 

O sinner that I am I love  

The chatter and the noise  

Once you cross the river 

There can be no violence 

No word or sound can ever break 

The beauty of the silence  

And yet dear Lord I love this world 

Its troubles and its joys 

O sinner that I am I love  

The chatter and the noise  

There’s a beautiful garden  

Where the wind never blows 

And the flame that burns there 

Can’t consume the rose  

And yet dear Lord &c.  

Sons of Clovis

nice talking to you last night. Couldn’t reach Jim. This is the painting I was trying to remember: https://g.co/kgs/vibvY4

Nice postcard

Sorry I can’t make it. Have to be in London. Good luck!

SF dates

Hey Johny, I read a post from you on Facebook a while ago promoting your upcoming festival dates. I didn’t quite catch them. Might be possible for me to attend. Please confirm dates.
Wouldn’t it be nice.

When Paul McCartney Died

The greatest shock I ever saw

In black and white and Polaroid

Was Paul McCartney jacking off

Naked and inspired

A genius for banalizing

CHORUS

Nobody likes a nice guy

Nobody wants him to win

Your own worst enemy

You stink, and yet you swim

Cheeky cheeky’s not a standard

To which to measure up

Sneaky sneaky’s cuter and

No one gives a fuck

A doe-eyed smile, compassion flowers

You freely harmonise

Your throbbing underlip fellates

I’m complicit, you beguile

When Paul McCartney died

You felt bad not feeling bad

For feeling bad

You felt bad

For not feeling bad

For feeling sad

You felt bad

How is it, like some fish

Age changes gender

Female to male

And male to old maid

The nice guy doesn’t die

But’s strung along

Till quaint, irrelevant

Nothing worse

But the drummer

CHORUS

When Paul McCartney died

You felt bad not feeling bad

For feeling bad

You felt sad

For not feeling bad

For feeling sad

You felt bad

Just wanna say

I am not a robot

Reunited

Today’s Verse: 17 February 2018

Today the script is finalised
Now it’s time to edit
Today the cast is hired
Soon they may regret it

Between the script
And final cut
Lifetime improvisation

That’s the way it’s always done
That’s the way we do it
If you know a better way
Get down and let’s get to it

It’s Not Easy Reading Poetry

Each syllable a little brick
Her breathing is the mortar
The crowd is waiting for a trick
The next act to abort her

A concept’s limping into view
Unfulfilled and tired
The crowd extends its sympathy
But circumstance belies her

The shambles done, a cupola
Of feeling placed atop it
We recognise she’s vulnerable
Applaud and glad she’s stopped it

Happy new year!

Burning the effigies of 2017 in the snow and sand

Happy Birthday to me!

By the way, do you like Joseph Roth? I have been reading his stuff for almost twenty years (started with "Radetzky March"). He wrote a lot, and I like his voice. Just read "Tarabas, a Guest on Earth". Wonderful. Think you might like it.

Jimmy, I'm a little late in wishing you many happy returns of the day. Let it show with you!

Happy birthday Johny!

You’ve earned it!

There was cuckoo in the spring
I said, Sing, O cuckoo, sing
And a tit-willow in a tree
Sing Dear Bird, O Sing for me

Hey nonny nonny
Hey tit tit
Hey cuckoo cuck
Hey la

Yes, they said, enjoy our song
For spring is here, but won’t last long
And after summer, fall is here
And we birds will disappear

Hey nonny tit
Hey cuckoo cuck
O cuckoo tit
Hey la

So fuck your mistress while you may
Do your fucking while it’s day
For you too shall lose your vigor
And your youth will sadly wither

O tit o cock
O titty cock
Tit titty cock
Hey la

And sings the bird: O tit! O cock!
And ticks the clock:  O tick! O tock!
Waste not too much time in wooing
For when you’re dead there’s no more screwing

O tit o cock
O titty cock
Tit titty cock
Hey la


Possibly more fun, definitely not political

Today’s verse: 20 October 2017

No more champagne buffet brunches please
There’s a limit to what a guy can swallow
There’s only so much a man can take
Till his mind is numb and desire hollow

I remember the day when you went to sea
You knew I lied when I told you I’d follow
I knew you lied, you told me your heart ached
We both believed in a better tomorrow
Someday

Chorus:
Thank goodness for alcohol
Thank god for drugs
Only my brain hurts
My body just shrugs
Thank goodness for alcohol
Thank god for drugs


Work in progress. Please extrapolate and extend.

Everything We Know

Epistemology in the age of Trump.


All that you say, every lie you tell me’s
Just put on for show
Nothing is true, now I have lost my faith in
Everything we know

Almanacs and dictionaries
Had to be let go
They’re just as false as
Everything we know

In the libraries
There are no more books
Upon the shelf
Just “The Song of Myself.”

Stories we hear on television
And the radio
We know they’re all just as untrue as
Everything we know

Someday perhaps
Our faith will regrow
And we can believe in
Everything we know

We’ll retrieve
what we believe in
Everything we know

The good old songs

Stephen asked me if I could send him MP3s of the old Fast Fun recordings, so I created a Dropbox folder and added the most current address I have for each Spartan/Ragazzo. I put in the versions of 7 Songs and the Chicken Tape that Tracy digitized many years ago and the Brothers Twain album. If you'd like me to send a Dropbox invitation to a different address let me know.

The school year's beginning
It's the end of of the summer
Which means that it's the birthday of
Our favorite lady-drummer

Happy birthday, Tracette!

Oh Papa dear Papa, come back to the Bar
The church in the steeple strikes one...

Happy birthday! I love ya, Big Dummy.

La Belle au Bois Dormante

What I remember is that I was awakened by a man I’d never met kissing me.  He was a very handsome man, but I didn’t know him and that’s not how it’s supposed to work for nice girls from my background, believe me.  My breath must have been awful, since I’d been asleep for a hundred years. Yes, literally one hundred years.  It’s such a weird story. What they told me was that at my christening, someone, an old friend of the family, put a curse on me and said, “When the child first sees her own blood, she will die.” But she didn’t think it was a curse, she insisted it was a gift, and everyone was shocked and said, “Oh no, no, no, no no,” so she changed it, she said, “Then when first she sees her own blood she’ll fall into a deep deep sleep.  She’ll grow up as graceful and beautiful as a flower and then she’ll fall into a deep deep sleep. She won’t die, she’ll fall into a deep sleep when first she sees her own blood.”  But no one in my family ever told me about this, until afterwards I mean.  It’s crazy. I was a baby obviously but as I got older they all knew I had this curse on me and they never told me about it. They didn’t want to or they didn’t think they should or something. I know. I know. That’s what my family’s like.

So I wasn’t ready for it, but sure enough it happened just she like said, one hundred years. I had nice dreams though, I remember that, and then I woke up and it was a hundred years later, and this man I didn’t know was kissing me, and I wasn’t ready, there was a layer of dust lying everywhere, over everything, and I remember I thought to myself, oh if only I could just sleep a little longer.

Well I ended up marrying this handsome man who kissed me even though I didn’t know him, and we’ve had a lovely life together, full of balls and banquets and horse-drawn processions, and everybody loves the story of how we met.  He’s a wonderful provider, a good husband, a good father, and his head looks fantastic on the coins and stamps.  The older I get, though, the more I realize I really was given a gift, maybe it was a curse but I see why she would have thought of it as a gift appropriate for a newborn.  Sometimes now my husband will wake me up by kissing me, very gently, and it’s so sweet and beautiful but still, all the same, I think, sometimes I think if only I could have slept a little longer.  Just a little bit more.