Today I got my tickets to see Counting Crows July 9 at Sarnia's Bayfest with opening act The Trews. I didn't get the VIP tickets I wanted and just got licensed general admission tickets. The price for these wasn't bad at all, $27.99 Canadian.
I have been listening to a lot of Amos Lee over the past couple of days. Which might explain the bittersweet lyrics from Arms of a Woman as the blog title. I even made a mixed tape of his songs, how retro.
Below is something I wrote yesterday and still relevant today, I suppose.
It was a pretty nice day today for late March, though the sun has now disappeared and the rain will shortly fall, and the moon will hide. There are certain things I am sure of and more things I am unsure of.
A Vacuum Of Dust
The moon is more lovely than the sun
I can be rejected under its luminosity
Without feeling humiliated by glares
Hour after hour of eyes exploring me
When there is no desire to be noticed
I hanker to exist in a vacuum of dust
Unidentifiable against everything else
Completely irrelevant in a garbage bag
Buried until decomposing is completed
Finally freed from pretending to exist
You are more lovely than I imagined
Considering all the time you putrefy
Trapped inside my mind and heart
I should know you without any light
Similar to the veins crossing my hand
Bringing blood to my feeble existence
A breath inhaled waiting to be exhaled
The goodbye spoken before the hello
Romance is better before it has begun
I should know this by now but do not
Instead words are written and rhymed
Dreams are choreographed and changed
You could understand but probably not
Fickleness comes as a part of loneliness
The pathetic are forced to walk exposed
Under an overbearing sun of narcissism
Weakness comes from ugliness’s womb
I am the sum of everything subtracted
There is nothing good left or so it seems
When the sun shines and the moon hides.
27/03/09
jr.
Arms of a Woman by Amos Lee
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5hPVqPMywc
(Crows clip(s) of the entry)
"I sold my piano, it couldn't come with me..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8GSHg_aybk
Washington Square (Last night Melbourne, Australia)
"I wanna sink slowly without getting wet........"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kSQTTD48A0
Time and Time Again (Last night Melbourne, Australia)
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
"Oh you delicate heart, sometimes it feels hard to live, the rain keeps on falling so hard, I forgot that I had some to give...."
It has been raining all day here in the forest city. I suppose it is a preview of the coming April showers and the corresponding May flowers.
My grandfather is recovering good from his throat cancer surgery. He is up and walking around without most of the tubes. I went up to see him Monday and Tuesday afternoon, and will again Thursday. It is tough to see his neck all stitched up and realizing he will never be able to talk the same again. We are working on the communicating part with a white board and hand signals, though I am not good at any of this. The first day I thought he was going on and on about the flowers at the front of the hospital but he was actually referring to his garden. He actually seems obsessed with the maintenance and preparation of his flowers. I am sure everyone in the family will pitch in and make the garden as close to its previous years brilliance. My grandma gets annoyed with him for going on and on about his garden but the fact that he is thinking about the future is a good thing. Though his recovering is a long way off. He has to learn to breath through the whole in his neck and when they clean the area out with suction, I have to look away. Overall my visits to the hospital haven't been as depressing as I thought they would be, but obviously I see a lot that is tough to look at. Helpless, is the word that comes to mind.
Today it was announced that Counting Crows would be playing Sarnia Bayfest, Sarnia is about an hour from me and I will definitely be going. They are playing Thursday July 9 and the opening act is the very good Canadian band the Trews. I have seen the Trews here in London at Cowboy's and thought they were good live. So this should be a fun and drink filled night.
My Proline luck got a little better on Sunday, I won $110 but last night it was back to losing in the shootout. It was only a $2 bet to win $39.70, but once again Nashville failed me in the shootout. Perhaps I shouldn't pick them. That might make sense.
I wrote the following this afternoon. After I wrote it I came across this in Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow, one of the books I am reading.
"But certain bits were missing from her mind. The needle went up and down, there was thread on the bobbin, but the stitching failed to occur."
Perhaps I should meet her.
Solitary Thoughts Do Need Company
The clouds above Victoria Hospital
Swirled like vanilla ice cream cones
Cancer survivors, patients and kin
Lingered inside and outside doors
Their voices whispered diagnoses
Muffled hope about long recoveries
The patriarch is different but alive
I might not show evidence of life
There are elements of me missing
Physical signs are not as revealing
Scars, redness and nervous tics
Mental signs are easily mistreated
Isolation, introversion and silence
I might be a walking case report
For some famous novel physiatrist
One of Humboldt’s many quacks
From the mind of Bellow’s fiction
Books accompany me around daily
Though their pages can turn slowly
I get so distracted with peculiarities
Barely making it through afternoons
Without returning to some conflict
Where the solution is uncontrollable
Being born accordingly and living so
Such is my life in a small nut shell
Romance has become nonexistent
Sex comes now and then but leaves
Before the daylight becomes intense
I like being alone but not loneliness
There is a difference between them
Solitary thoughts do need company
Their meanings can be accompanied
By the thoughts of another person
Similarly weird or familiarly normal
Certain people can bring us to life
There is no need for a hospital stay
All they offer us is in their character
The absolute likelihood of happiness
Never as we see it in our fickle mind
But as they see it in their picky heart
Being chosen makes us able to choose
What we are ready to accept or cannot.
25/03/09
I thought the Hawsley Workman song below was appropriate for today's blog entry and I am pretty sure I have used it in the past. I am too lazy to check, or just don't care, after all it's my blog and if you are reading hopefully you will understand.
:)
john edward
Oh You Delicate Heart by Hawksley Workman
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ByL2UByb1a8
(Crows clip of the entry)
"When everyone loves you, you can never be lonely......."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EC6kUlJu9Qk
Mr. Jones (live 9/5/08 Texas)
My grandfather is recovering good from his throat cancer surgery. He is up and walking around without most of the tubes. I went up to see him Monday and Tuesday afternoon, and will again Thursday. It is tough to see his neck all stitched up and realizing he will never be able to talk the same again. We are working on the communicating part with a white board and hand signals, though I am not good at any of this. The first day I thought he was going on and on about the flowers at the front of the hospital but he was actually referring to his garden. He actually seems obsessed with the maintenance and preparation of his flowers. I am sure everyone in the family will pitch in and make the garden as close to its previous years brilliance. My grandma gets annoyed with him for going on and on about his garden but the fact that he is thinking about the future is a good thing. Though his recovering is a long way off. He has to learn to breath through the whole in his neck and when they clean the area out with suction, I have to look away. Overall my visits to the hospital haven't been as depressing as I thought they would be, but obviously I see a lot that is tough to look at. Helpless, is the word that comes to mind.
Today it was announced that Counting Crows would be playing Sarnia Bayfest, Sarnia is about an hour from me and I will definitely be going. They are playing Thursday July 9 and the opening act is the very good Canadian band the Trews. I have seen the Trews here in London at Cowboy's and thought they were good live. So this should be a fun and drink filled night.
My Proline luck got a little better on Sunday, I won $110 but last night it was back to losing in the shootout. It was only a $2 bet to win $39.70, but once again Nashville failed me in the shootout. Perhaps I shouldn't pick them. That might make sense.
I wrote the following this afternoon. After I wrote it I came across this in Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow, one of the books I am reading.
"But certain bits were missing from her mind. The needle went up and down, there was thread on the bobbin, but the stitching failed to occur."
Perhaps I should meet her.
Solitary Thoughts Do Need Company
The clouds above Victoria Hospital
Swirled like vanilla ice cream cones
Cancer survivors, patients and kin
Lingered inside and outside doors
Their voices whispered diagnoses
Muffled hope about long recoveries
The patriarch is different but alive
I might not show evidence of life
There are elements of me missing
Physical signs are not as revealing
Scars, redness and nervous tics
Mental signs are easily mistreated
Isolation, introversion and silence
I might be a walking case report
For some famous novel physiatrist
One of Humboldt’s many quacks
From the mind of Bellow’s fiction
Books accompany me around daily
Though their pages can turn slowly
I get so distracted with peculiarities
Barely making it through afternoons
Without returning to some conflict
Where the solution is uncontrollable
Being born accordingly and living so
Such is my life in a small nut shell
Romance has become nonexistent
Sex comes now and then but leaves
Before the daylight becomes intense
I like being alone but not loneliness
There is a difference between them
Solitary thoughts do need company
Their meanings can be accompanied
By the thoughts of another person
Similarly weird or familiarly normal
Certain people can bring us to life
There is no need for a hospital stay
All they offer us is in their character
The absolute likelihood of happiness
Never as we see it in our fickle mind
But as they see it in their picky heart
Being chosen makes us able to choose
What we are ready to accept or cannot.
25/03/09
I thought the Hawsley Workman song below was appropriate for today's blog entry and I am pretty sure I have used it in the past. I am too lazy to check, or just don't care, after all it's my blog and if you are reading hopefully you will understand.
:)
john edward
Oh You Delicate Heart by Hawksley Workman
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ByL2UByb1a8
(Crows clip of the entry)
"When everyone loves you, you can never be lonely......."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EC6kUlJu9Qk
Mr. Jones (live 9/5/08 Texas)
Saturday, March 21, 2009
"I wish it was less of the way it is, I wish it were more of the way it could be......"
My grandfather had surgery on Thursday to remove a large cancerous tumour from his throat. The surgery went relatively well and they were also able to insert the stoma. This avoided another future surgery but still might need to be corrected as it heals. My grandfather is a very stubborn man and this is going to make the recovery very hard, as we are already seeing. He struggled a lot yesterday adjusting and on one occasion passed out. It has already been and will continue to be tough on my mother, she is having a hard time dealing with the change. Likewise it will not be easy for my grandmother either, in the role of caretaker.
I haven't been up to the hospital yet, as they are trying to limit the number of people coming and going. I am hoping he has a better day today and I am able to visit tomorrow. Though I am not overly enthusiastic about hospitals. When my other grandfather died almost 15 years ago, the cancer ward of the hospital was beyond depressing. I think though my grandfather is in a regular recovery ward.
On to another topic.
Luck.
I have none, absolutely none at all.
I should define this as having no luck playing Proline, and trying to determine the outcomes of sporting events. There was the massacre of hope last Saturday night, and it has continued on a lesser scale throughout the week. At last count, I lost on 3 tickets where all I need was the time to win in the shootout. In simple math there is a 50% of each team winning during a shootout, ignoring skill, luck and other random factors. So out of those 3 teams I needed to win 1.5 should have won, but 0 won. Once again it is irrelevant who I have to win to the teams playing but it doesn't seem that way. I needed Nashville on Thursday for $24.80, they lost in the shootout. I needed Phoenix on Thursday for $40.20, they lost in the shootout and last night I needed Chicago to win in the shootout for $51.50, but they also lost in the shootout. The amount of money is nothing special, but it is the annoying nature of losing. There have also been a couple other close calls thwarted by final period comebacks but such is hockey. You need to take the good with the bad, or not play. I do like the challenge, which is probably why I over think things.
I wrote the following this afternoon.
A Defining Goal
The indistinguishable afternoons are monotonous
A product of my inability to function satisfactory
I have failed rather miserly at being viably living
There are stuffed animals who exhibit more life
Giraffes and elephants of my prize winning youth
When a smile was more common than sense itself
The boy inside me died before a man could be born
I am a living organism but lacking a defining goal
Ready and sarcastically able to define relationships
With nothing more than selfish words and actions
There is a lack of need inside me for these links
Familiar people often seem like strangers to me
I always have to catch up with lost conversations
When really it would be better to be left behind
Luggage misplaced by switching airplane flights
A reason for new clothes and the season for them
Spring is supposed to offer hope like God himself
I believe in mother nature but religion lacks truth
The Bible is easily altered to correct inadequacies
Darwinism and creationism are seen as evilness
Liars often produce their own axises of iniquity
When usually honesty is the best return policy
I deserve nothing more or less than this chance
The possibility of being happier and more alive
Without forgetting the plausibility of getting less
Our sun bends the light of other stars in its orbit
A superior mass like special humans of kindness
I have known and loved a few in my short time
There are always lessons to be learned from them
Even as their voices are destroyed by cancer cells
Finding new ways of communicating is achievable
Without forgetting the necessity of being silent
Noise is our ultimate polluter and words deadly
There can be a balance found and walked across
I was never one for heights but the view is great
When we can see distinctly how far we've come.
21/03/09
Sam Roberts is a favourite of mine and the song below is very good. He needs to play Harris Park here again that was a cool show.
Enjoy your Saturday night.
john.
Uprising Down Under by Sam Roberts
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cPZi3s21J4 (live 5/26/06 HMV Vancouver)
(Crows clip of the entry)
"All my sins...I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you, all my innocence is wasted on the dead and dreaming...."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtSKnmmEkhw&feature=PlayList&p=651115EA89F902BD&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=12
Angels of the Silences (acoustic for VH1's Storytellers and recorded in New York City, August 12, 1997)
I haven't been up to the hospital yet, as they are trying to limit the number of people coming and going. I am hoping he has a better day today and I am able to visit tomorrow. Though I am not overly enthusiastic about hospitals. When my other grandfather died almost 15 years ago, the cancer ward of the hospital was beyond depressing. I think though my grandfather is in a regular recovery ward.
On to another topic.
Luck.
I have none, absolutely none at all.
I should define this as having no luck playing Proline, and trying to determine the outcomes of sporting events. There was the massacre of hope last Saturday night, and it has continued on a lesser scale throughout the week. At last count, I lost on 3 tickets where all I need was the time to win in the shootout. In simple math there is a 50% of each team winning during a shootout, ignoring skill, luck and other random factors. So out of those 3 teams I needed to win 1.5 should have won, but 0 won. Once again it is irrelevant who I have to win to the teams playing but it doesn't seem that way. I needed Nashville on Thursday for $24.80, they lost in the shootout. I needed Phoenix on Thursday for $40.20, they lost in the shootout and last night I needed Chicago to win in the shootout for $51.50, but they also lost in the shootout. The amount of money is nothing special, but it is the annoying nature of losing. There have also been a couple other close calls thwarted by final period comebacks but such is hockey. You need to take the good with the bad, or not play. I do like the challenge, which is probably why I over think things.
I wrote the following this afternoon.
A Defining Goal
The indistinguishable afternoons are monotonous
A product of my inability to function satisfactory
I have failed rather miserly at being viably living
There are stuffed animals who exhibit more life
Giraffes and elephants of my prize winning youth
When a smile was more common than sense itself
The boy inside me died before a man could be born
I am a living organism but lacking a defining goal
Ready and sarcastically able to define relationships
With nothing more than selfish words and actions
There is a lack of need inside me for these links
Familiar people often seem like strangers to me
I always have to catch up with lost conversations
When really it would be better to be left behind
Luggage misplaced by switching airplane flights
A reason for new clothes and the season for them
Spring is supposed to offer hope like God himself
I believe in mother nature but religion lacks truth
The Bible is easily altered to correct inadequacies
Darwinism and creationism are seen as evilness
Liars often produce their own axises of iniquity
When usually honesty is the best return policy
I deserve nothing more or less than this chance
The possibility of being happier and more alive
Without forgetting the plausibility of getting less
Our sun bends the light of other stars in its orbit
A superior mass like special humans of kindness
I have known and loved a few in my short time
There are always lessons to be learned from them
Even as their voices are destroyed by cancer cells
Finding new ways of communicating is achievable
Without forgetting the necessity of being silent
Noise is our ultimate polluter and words deadly
There can be a balance found and walked across
I was never one for heights but the view is great
When we can see distinctly how far we've come.
21/03/09
Sam Roberts is a favourite of mine and the song below is very good. He needs to play Harris Park here again that was a cool show.
Enjoy your Saturday night.
john.
Uprising Down Under by Sam Roberts
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cPZi3s21J4 (live 5/26/06 HMV Vancouver)
(Crows clip of the entry)
"All my sins...I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you, all my innocence is wasted on the dead and dreaming...."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtSKnmmEkhw&feature=PlayList&p=651115EA89F902BD&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=12
Angels of the Silences (acoustic for VH1's Storytellers and recorded in New York City, August 12, 1997)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
"I was looking at you there and your face looked wrong, memory is an echo silent song, I didn't understand..."
Today looks less like a spring approaching day and more like an autumn approaching day. The sunlight of the previous few days has turned to a greyness.
Last night Martin Brodeur became the NHL's all-time leader in goaltender wins and anyone else other than Patrick Roy having the record is fine by me. His 552 passed Roy's 551 and are well ahead of my personal favourite Ed Belfour's 484. Curtis Joseph also got win 452 last night. Brodeur is a good guy too, which makes it easy to accept his holding of the record. I don't really get overly excited about sports as I used to when I was younger, but still watch enough.
Right now I am listening to XPN radio online and the great sounds of The Band. Ophelia to be exact.
Today I started reading Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow and have never read a book by him, so I am interested in my opinion on his writing.
Below is something I wrote an hour or so ago. Often things and people are better left undefined.
Undefined
This view has looked better
Dust gathers in every corner
The room needs a painting
White walls and blue blinds
Should sunlight return to us
Today is late winter greyness
After days of spring brightness
I sharpened a pencil to scratch
Never able to sketch or write
These words appear instantly
With the stroke of a keyboard
Technology lets me be creative
My penmanship is not strong
I am an untidy idea scribbler
Lacking patience for neatness
When it comes to white paper
The blank screen is my muse
Word processors erase easier
Pencils smudge and pens stain
All my thoughts are analyzed
Before they finalize on screen
Taking their ultimate meaning
In the eyes of the few readers
Who do not pass over absently
They are present in the moment
I feel many of mine are wasted
Worrying about them too much
Instead of living and proceeding
Where situations take my heart
Romance is best when undefined
Thinking only scatters language
Minds speaking rather than bodies
I am sure silence is not the answer
Trees will soon be full of colour
Leaves whispering about summer
Returning on the breeze of spring
Happenstance may discover hours
Where you and I are able to walk
Through our lives and what matters
Finding reasons why we can adore
Those things others see and do not
Learning how to feel special again
Together among nature's children.
18/03/09
If you aren't listening to creators of the featured song today, Fleet Foxes, you really should be.
That's all.
john.
He Doesn't Know Why by Fleet Foxes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brZTvGIzeGg
(Crows clip of the entry)
"I wish I was a girl, so that you could believe me..."
I Wish I Was A Girl
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSZ5xVLfTg8
Last night Martin Brodeur became the NHL's all-time leader in goaltender wins and anyone else other than Patrick Roy having the record is fine by me. His 552 passed Roy's 551 and are well ahead of my personal favourite Ed Belfour's 484. Curtis Joseph also got win 452 last night. Brodeur is a good guy too, which makes it easy to accept his holding of the record. I don't really get overly excited about sports as I used to when I was younger, but still watch enough.
Right now I am listening to XPN radio online and the great sounds of The Band. Ophelia to be exact.
Today I started reading Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow and have never read a book by him, so I am interested in my opinion on his writing.
Below is something I wrote an hour or so ago. Often things and people are better left undefined.
Undefined
This view has looked better
Dust gathers in every corner
The room needs a painting
White walls and blue blinds
Should sunlight return to us
Today is late winter greyness
After days of spring brightness
I sharpened a pencil to scratch
Never able to sketch or write
These words appear instantly
With the stroke of a keyboard
Technology lets me be creative
My penmanship is not strong
I am an untidy idea scribbler
Lacking patience for neatness
When it comes to white paper
The blank screen is my muse
Word processors erase easier
Pencils smudge and pens stain
All my thoughts are analyzed
Before they finalize on screen
Taking their ultimate meaning
In the eyes of the few readers
Who do not pass over absently
They are present in the moment
I feel many of mine are wasted
Worrying about them too much
Instead of living and proceeding
Where situations take my heart
Romance is best when undefined
Thinking only scatters language
Minds speaking rather than bodies
I am sure silence is not the answer
Trees will soon be full of colour
Leaves whispering about summer
Returning on the breeze of spring
Happenstance may discover hours
Where you and I are able to walk
Through our lives and what matters
Finding reasons why we can adore
Those things others see and do not
Learning how to feel special again
Together among nature's children.
18/03/09
If you aren't listening to creators of the featured song today, Fleet Foxes, you really should be.
That's all.
john.
He Doesn't Know Why by Fleet Foxes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brZTvGIzeGg
(Crows clip of the entry)
"I wish I was a girl, so that you could believe me..."
I Wish I Was A Girl
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSZ5xVLfTg8
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
"She's an angel of the first degree, she's as sweet as tupelo honey, just like honey from the bee....."
There is only one Irish musician who stands above the rest of them and he is Van Morrison. Bono does not even reach his waist. Van Morrison is not a preacher, he is a singer. Bono might consider himself a humanitarian, Van Morrison is human. He writes about love, life and loss, without making it political or overly romantic. Though Tupelo Honey is a very romantic song.
If a women does not feel loved when it is played for her, then perhaps she will never feel love.
Today I finished reading The Human Stain by Philip Roth. This is the first book by Mr. Roth I have read and must admit to needing my dictionary at certain points. The vocabulary and unusual word choices added to the texture of a well constructed and complex story. The following is a passage from it.
"But the danger with hatred is, once you start in on it, you get a hundred times more than you bargained for. Once you start, you can't stop. I don't know anything harder to control than hating. Easier to kick drinking than to master hate. And that is saying something."
"Words fall through me and always fool me..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPbC2YrUUsI
A little more Irish music for this St. Patrick's Day.
"Make art..." as Mr. Hansard so enthusiastically once said.
Also today I finished watching the movie version of The Stone Angel, a novel I had previously read by the late Canadian author Margaret Laurence. I thought the movie was a good adaption of the 1964 novel and culturally updated for present time. I thought Ellen Burstyn was great as old Hagar, she was very much her award winning self. She was nominated 5 times in the 1970's for best actress and won in 1975. She was also nominated in 1981 and most recently in 2001 for her role in the critically acclaimed Requiem For a Dream. I also thought Canadian actress Christine Horne was good as the sexually strong and stubborn young Hagar. Ellen Page also appears in a minor role. The movie though as most critics have written cannot span the decades that the book can. Information about the movie is below.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0847897/
I wrote the following this afternoon.
Refuses To Be Enough
Another scar has been carved into my soul
The luck of the Irish is certainly not with me
I had a bizarre dream where the plants spoke
Their organisms spurted knowledge about
A thirsty man I drank it all up like red wine
Becoming light of body and heavy of mind
Carrying previously unknown ideas around
I hoped happiness could be created by them
The quiet morning turned into mid-afternoon
All the light streamed through dusty blinds
Vertical shadows crossed my horizontal arm
I had bleed my face in the mirror and bathtub
Under the hottest flowing water of these taps
Wasting the source bringing life to my body
All the blood spilling refuses to be enough
Now the folk Irish singer plays his harmonica
The familiar piercing sound of an instrument
Vaguely similar to freight trains over steel
I am always a day, a week or a month away
From being ready for what tomorrow brings
The man living broken, hidden and solitary
Serving some imaginary life long sentence
A conviction without a real crime committed
I am not delusional but often very confused
Wondering what really matters day to day
Barely finding new reasons for any effort
Shuffling nearly hidden Sunday to Saturday
The years are losing most of their meaning
I have misplaced too many days to worry
When another one becomes a tangled mess.
17/03/09
john.
Tupelo Honey by Van Morrison
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg94T4LrRbc
(Crow clip of the entry)
"I don't go out much these days, sometimes I stay inside all day..."
Miller's Angels
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ay9YdwPjLZ4
If a women does not feel loved when it is played for her, then perhaps she will never feel love.
Today I finished reading The Human Stain by Philip Roth. This is the first book by Mr. Roth I have read and must admit to needing my dictionary at certain points. The vocabulary and unusual word choices added to the texture of a well constructed and complex story. The following is a passage from it.
"But the danger with hatred is, once you start in on it, you get a hundred times more than you bargained for. Once you start, you can't stop. I don't know anything harder to control than hating. Easier to kick drinking than to master hate. And that is saying something."
"Words fall through me and always fool me..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPbC2YrUUsI
A little more Irish music for this St. Patrick's Day.
"Make art..." as Mr. Hansard so enthusiastically once said.
Also today I finished watching the movie version of The Stone Angel, a novel I had previously read by the late Canadian author Margaret Laurence. I thought the movie was a good adaption of the 1964 novel and culturally updated for present time. I thought Ellen Burstyn was great as old Hagar, she was very much her award winning self. She was nominated 5 times in the 1970's for best actress and won in 1975. She was also nominated in 1981 and most recently in 2001 for her role in the critically acclaimed Requiem For a Dream. I also thought Canadian actress Christine Horne was good as the sexually strong and stubborn young Hagar. Ellen Page also appears in a minor role. The movie though as most critics have written cannot span the decades that the book can. Information about the movie is below.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0847897/
I wrote the following this afternoon.
Refuses To Be Enough
Another scar has been carved into my soul
The luck of the Irish is certainly not with me
I had a bizarre dream where the plants spoke
Their organisms spurted knowledge about
A thirsty man I drank it all up like red wine
Becoming light of body and heavy of mind
Carrying previously unknown ideas around
I hoped happiness could be created by them
The quiet morning turned into mid-afternoon
All the light streamed through dusty blinds
Vertical shadows crossed my horizontal arm
I had bleed my face in the mirror and bathtub
Under the hottest flowing water of these taps
Wasting the source bringing life to my body
All the blood spilling refuses to be enough
Now the folk Irish singer plays his harmonica
The familiar piercing sound of an instrument
Vaguely similar to freight trains over steel
I am always a day, a week or a month away
From being ready for what tomorrow brings
The man living broken, hidden and solitary
Serving some imaginary life long sentence
A conviction without a real crime committed
I am not delusional but often very confused
Wondering what really matters day to day
Barely finding new reasons for any effort
Shuffling nearly hidden Sunday to Saturday
The years are losing most of their meaning
I have misplaced too many days to worry
When another one becomes a tangled mess.
17/03/09
john.
Tupelo Honey by Van Morrison
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg94T4LrRbc
(Crow clip of the entry)
"I don't go out much these days, sometimes I stay inside all day..."
Miller's Angels
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ay9YdwPjLZ4
Monday, March 16, 2009
"But all of these horses that you chase around, in the end they are the ones that always bring you down...."
So on Saturday I was 5 minutes of scoreless hockey between Colorado and Edmonton away from winning over $23,000 on a $2 bet. All I needed on my Proline ticket was for Colorado and Edmonton to make it to the shootout, instead because someone somewhere is giving me the big fuck you, Colorado scored 30 seconds or so into the overtime period. I knew it was going to happen but still sat there and watched it unfold on CBC. Screw Me Night in Canada. But I don't believe in luck, well anything but bad luck. Me having the ticket was insignificant to the result but it certainly did not feel like it.
Enough of that.
Growing up in the 1990's, I still return to the music of my youth. My favourite albums of the 1990's would be August and Everything After by Counting Crows, Bringing Down the Horse by The Wallflowers, Lemon Parade by Tonic, Unplugged by Nirvana and Achtung Baby by U2. I am sure I could have put one by Pearl Jam, The Pumpkins or Radiohead in there, but for now there is my list.
Something I wrote today. Better written than thought, or better thought than written.
Better Hidden
The circumstances of my failings
Appear on the screen like riddles
Mocking tributes to my sarcasm
Friends will laugh but not nicely
I am a stain on the human scene
Fragments of bone left decaying
With no courage to burn to ash
I will litter the ground like weeds
The days have become very bright
Winter is dying before April comes
Bringing her light and its creations
I am better hidden in your shadows
The man who is not easily found
Should anyone actually be looking
There are no offerings in my palms
For me there is not a god or a devil
Good and evil exist and commingle
One cannot function without the other
The best of enemies throughout life
When one is shining, the other dulls
Cruelty being offset with kindness
The villains imagining the heroes
I am no longer concerned with love
There is a way to live in its absence
Broken men do not need very much
Novels and their unique characters
Poetic lyrics and their classic songs
An afternoon without telling mirrors
The clown behind the glass laughing
Rendered mute and finally invisible
April would instantly seem beautiful
A girl remembered for her intelligence
Despite the smell of sex on her body
After a night under the slivered moon
Nature being a summer blanket enough
When I was younger and less confused
Age is supposed to bring us knowledge
All it has brought for me is uncertainity
The memories of friendships vanishing
I am a suggestion lacking serious merit.
16/03/09
jr.
Invisible City by The Wallflowers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UppK59ajcow
(Crow clip of the entry)
Colorblind 10/28/08 Wellmont, NJ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeehlhaMs50
Enough of that.
Growing up in the 1990's, I still return to the music of my youth. My favourite albums of the 1990's would be August and Everything After by Counting Crows, Bringing Down the Horse by The Wallflowers, Lemon Parade by Tonic, Unplugged by Nirvana and Achtung Baby by U2. I am sure I could have put one by Pearl Jam, The Pumpkins or Radiohead in there, but for now there is my list.
Something I wrote today. Better written than thought, or better thought than written.
Better Hidden
The circumstances of my failings
Appear on the screen like riddles
Mocking tributes to my sarcasm
Friends will laugh but not nicely
I am a stain on the human scene
Fragments of bone left decaying
With no courage to burn to ash
I will litter the ground like weeds
The days have become very bright
Winter is dying before April comes
Bringing her light and its creations
I am better hidden in your shadows
The man who is not easily found
Should anyone actually be looking
There are no offerings in my palms
For me there is not a god or a devil
Good and evil exist and commingle
One cannot function without the other
The best of enemies throughout life
When one is shining, the other dulls
Cruelty being offset with kindness
The villains imagining the heroes
I am no longer concerned with love
There is a way to live in its absence
Broken men do not need very much
Novels and their unique characters
Poetic lyrics and their classic songs
An afternoon without telling mirrors
The clown behind the glass laughing
Rendered mute and finally invisible
April would instantly seem beautiful
A girl remembered for her intelligence
Despite the smell of sex on her body
After a night under the slivered moon
Nature being a summer blanket enough
When I was younger and less confused
Age is supposed to bring us knowledge
All it has brought for me is uncertainity
The memories of friendships vanishing
I am a suggestion lacking serious merit.
16/03/09
jr.
Invisible City by The Wallflowers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UppK59ajcow
(Crow clip of the entry)
Colorblind 10/28/08 Wellmont, NJ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeehlhaMs50
Saturday, March 14, 2009
"Hey Mr. Golden Deal, tell me how does she feel........"
Last night I watched a movie called The Lucky Ones. It stars Tim Robbins, Rachel McAdams and Michael Pena as soldiers on leave from Iraq. They end up taking an unexpected road trip together across America. During the course of the trip their lives are exposed and their lives illusions shattered. The movie was quirky but I kept waiting for something more to happen. There is also an oddness to this movie and the sequence of events are not entirely believable. The oddness might also be seen as cuteness, depending on your state of mind. I did find McAdams character rather appealing and despite her naivety, there is something genuine about her. It wasn't a complete waste of time on a Friday night. Information about the movie is below.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0981072/
I decided to do some writing this afternoon much like yesterday. In fact a lot of today is much like yesterday. Not quite Groundhog Day but very similar. Following the poem is a link to the brilliant Mr. Golden Deal by Tonic and a live version of Rain King with Springsteen's Thunder Road sprinkled in the middle.
Much Like Yesterday
Today looks much like yesterday
A mirror image of winter leaving
The sunlight brighter and whiter
I am cautious about spring's coming
My hope in change is not optimistic
The old man is sick and death waits
Summer might not find him around us
I am vulnerable to unknown emotions
Tears could finally come and stay
Where they would make a mess of me
I am not immune to breaking down
My inner strength has waned lately
These or similar words rarely last
A poet's hurt is often only a figment
Our imaginations easily work overtime
Creating love out of beauty or sex
I often want one without the other
Physical and emotional self battles
Leaving me bloody and badly wounded
I am always in some form of healing
Abusing, neglecting and rejecting
What should be truth easily accepted
The man I am is not anything special
Potential has been lost like kindness
Vertical lines of light separate me
I am half in shadow and half exposed
Nothing of a mystery except to myself
Though in reality I am very predictable
A lot of bad days after a few good days
This roller coaster ride is sickening me
I have never been one for extreme heights
Walking along the river is enough curving
The contours of the land are easily taken
I can control my thoughts about this life
Remembering friends who are now strangers
Women with nonreturnable pieces of my heart
There is no blame in their honest feelings
I should never have attempted friendship
When everything about them screamed more
Especially to a homely and lonely male
A romantic dreamer and a lyric studier
Choosing songs for each woman like rings
The rarest of observation becoming song
Where today on a day much like yesterday
Too many songs have a greater meaning
When they randomly play for my memories
Realities mingled with wrong fantasies
One day I will be right about something
Someone will be alright with loving me
Teaching me how to love my shortcomings
No matter the season and its changes
Our walks and talks will never abscond.
14/03/09
john.
Mr. Golden Deal by Tonic
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bp38HAR5cmY
Rain King/Thunder Road by Counting Crows
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpgC5E7A-9c
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0981072/
I decided to do some writing this afternoon much like yesterday. In fact a lot of today is much like yesterday. Not quite Groundhog Day but very similar. Following the poem is a link to the brilliant Mr. Golden Deal by Tonic and a live version of Rain King with Springsteen's Thunder Road sprinkled in the middle.
Much Like Yesterday
Today looks much like yesterday
A mirror image of winter leaving
The sunlight brighter and whiter
I am cautious about spring's coming
My hope in change is not optimistic
The old man is sick and death waits
Summer might not find him around us
I am vulnerable to unknown emotions
Tears could finally come and stay
Where they would make a mess of me
I am not immune to breaking down
My inner strength has waned lately
These or similar words rarely last
A poet's hurt is often only a figment
Our imaginations easily work overtime
Creating love out of beauty or sex
I often want one without the other
Physical and emotional self battles
Leaving me bloody and badly wounded
I am always in some form of healing
Abusing, neglecting and rejecting
What should be truth easily accepted
The man I am is not anything special
Potential has been lost like kindness
Vertical lines of light separate me
I am half in shadow and half exposed
Nothing of a mystery except to myself
Though in reality I am very predictable
A lot of bad days after a few good days
This roller coaster ride is sickening me
I have never been one for extreme heights
Walking along the river is enough curving
The contours of the land are easily taken
I can control my thoughts about this life
Remembering friends who are now strangers
Women with nonreturnable pieces of my heart
There is no blame in their honest feelings
I should never have attempted friendship
When everything about them screamed more
Especially to a homely and lonely male
A romantic dreamer and a lyric studier
Choosing songs for each woman like rings
The rarest of observation becoming song
Where today on a day much like yesterday
Too many songs have a greater meaning
When they randomly play for my memories
Realities mingled with wrong fantasies
One day I will be right about something
Someone will be alright with loving me
Teaching me how to love my shortcomings
No matter the season and its changes
Our walks and talks will never abscond.
14/03/09
john.
Mr. Golden Deal by Tonic
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bp38HAR5cmY
Rain King/Thunder Road by Counting Crows
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpgC5E7A-9c
Friday, March 13, 2009
"Beneath the dust, and love, and sweat that hang on everybody, there's a dead man trying to get out...."
It has not been a very good week. If I believed in luck, every day would be like today, Friday the thirteenth. Perhaps if I believed in anything, every day would be better than the last. Without hope being stubborn to not having hope is all we have.
A poem or something.
Empty Handed
The daylight hours have been expanded
I watch them loiter outside like children
Never knowing when to leave and go home
I am done waiting for anything or anyone
Spring used to arrive with a little hope
Now she comes empty handed like all women
There are no gifts being placed before me
I have foolishly wasted all of my kindness
Giving it out freely like candy at Halloween
Even winter does not share all my coldness
The season always finds a reason for thawing
My heart stays as barren as a spinster's womb
Despite flowers blooming out of frozen ground
There is nothing able to warm up my cold body
I might as well be dead already and eulogized
A simple poem carved by my broken finger bones
They are of no use to me on almost every day
I would rather be physically ill than emotionally
Doctors can do wonders fixing up the human body
The mind and its feelings are still sad mysteries
Some of us are complex riddles in our own heads
Other people have us completely figured in theirs
Light bothers my eyes like uncontrollable situations
I have grown found of sleeping without dreaming
There is peace in the everlasting silent thought
Death would not be so bad if it was known as this
My knowledge is not what it used to be or could be
The books gather dust and the intelligence rusts
Life makes it hard for a boy to like being a man
Though girls cannot have it any easier as women
Perhaps there is surviving life and living death.
13/03/09
jr.
Perfect Blue Buildings by Counting Crows
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGN5sk3VsC4
A poem or something.
Empty Handed
The daylight hours have been expanded
I watch them loiter outside like children
Never knowing when to leave and go home
I am done waiting for anything or anyone
Spring used to arrive with a little hope
Now she comes empty handed like all women
There are no gifts being placed before me
I have foolishly wasted all of my kindness
Giving it out freely like candy at Halloween
Even winter does not share all my coldness
The season always finds a reason for thawing
My heart stays as barren as a spinster's womb
Despite flowers blooming out of frozen ground
There is nothing able to warm up my cold body
I might as well be dead already and eulogized
A simple poem carved by my broken finger bones
They are of no use to me on almost every day
I would rather be physically ill than emotionally
Doctors can do wonders fixing up the human body
The mind and its feelings are still sad mysteries
Some of us are complex riddles in our own heads
Other people have us completely figured in theirs
Light bothers my eyes like uncontrollable situations
I have grown found of sleeping without dreaming
There is peace in the everlasting silent thought
Death would not be so bad if it was known as this
My knowledge is not what it used to be or could be
The books gather dust and the intelligence rusts
Life makes it hard for a boy to like being a man
Though girls cannot have it any easier as women
Perhaps there is surviving life and living death.
13/03/09
jr.
Perfect Blue Buildings by Counting Crows
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGN5sk3VsC4
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
"My mountain's gonna turn to sand and leave me lost in a far off land....."
A few weeks have passed since my last blog entry. I think I have forgotten how to write poetry. The images appear in my head and disappear before a blank screen. Winter is lingering on here with the occasional glimpses of spring. I am no better a person and being worse is possible. The wind is strong today, the fields are muddy and the sky is full of rain. Streaks of sunlight intermittently break free of the grey Wednesday landscape. I have a stack of books in the process of being read but they are all lacking a certain quality. The familiarity of a known face or the clarity of a peaceful place. Music though is everywhere, Ray LaMontagne's Gossip in the Grain playing in this room. Peter Bradley Adams Leavetaking playing in another room and Wilco's Sky Blue Sky in my bedroom. Earlier today I heard When I Dream of Michelangelo by Counting Crows on one of the digital television music channels and it made me smile.
I used to think, if I didn't write down my feelings I couldn't feel them. Of course I knew this was wrong but still believed it. Now since words have escaped me like many things have in my life, I seem to feel more. I suppose without a stage to drag my thoughts across they are fighting like armies in a war already written.
My grandfather has been diagnosed with throat cancer and requires surgery to remove the tumour. I have spent a lot of time visiting with my grandmother and him over the last couple of years, so there is a closeness I am not ready to let go of. There is a chance of recovery and this is what we are all praying for. Like most people in their 80's my grandfather has been through a lot in his life and hopefully this is one more challenge he will overcome. I am looking forward to many more dinner visits and summer afternoon's spent in the cool shade of a splendid garden waiting for the tasty treasures on the barbeque.
Once again today gun violence is in the news. In Germany a 17 year old has killed 16 people at a high school he used to attend before being killed himself. In America a man has killed 11 people in Alabama including members of his own family before his own death. I think we are immune to the news of these rampages, we should be scared but I think we are only vaguely sad. Most of us just shake our heads and say "what a world" and not wonderful like the one of green trees, red roses, blue skies and friends saying I love you.
On the weekend during a coversation with some friends about what we would do should we learn that our unborn child is an invalid we all agreed terminating the pregnancy would be best for everyone. After this discussion I came upon this passage in Mary Karr's memoir The Liar's Club: "I've heard it said that caring for an invalid is like caring for a baby. And I suppose it's the same basic deal, but a baby rewards you each day with change, sprouting a tooth or discovering that the object randomingly waggling before its eyes is, in fact, its own hand. But an invalid is a hole you pour yourself into. Every day he fixes you with a glance more gnawed-out than yours, more hurt. If life is suffering (as the Buddha says), some endless shit-eating contest, then the invalid always wins, hands down."
Also on Saturday I got a few seconds of fame while watching the Canada and U.S. baseball game at the Rogers Centre. Just before the final out, there was a crowd shot and 3 of the 7 of us got on Sportsnet, standing and cheering like fools. It was a good game and very intense but Canada couldn't pull off the upset. So we drove home in the pouring rain, went out to country bar and got really drunk, then played poker and video game hockey until seven or so.
Hopefully soon the daylight will be worth saving because right now it is just an hour of sleep I would rather have had.
john.
The Longer I Run by Peter Bradley Adams
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIl8OufGf64
You can buy Peter's music at the link below.
http://tinyurl.com/Leavetaking-Amazon-Music-Store
(Thanks to Kara McGraw @ Sarathan Records for the link)
I used to think, if I didn't write down my feelings I couldn't feel them. Of course I knew this was wrong but still believed it. Now since words have escaped me like many things have in my life, I seem to feel more. I suppose without a stage to drag my thoughts across they are fighting like armies in a war already written.
My grandfather has been diagnosed with throat cancer and requires surgery to remove the tumour. I have spent a lot of time visiting with my grandmother and him over the last couple of years, so there is a closeness I am not ready to let go of. There is a chance of recovery and this is what we are all praying for. Like most people in their 80's my grandfather has been through a lot in his life and hopefully this is one more challenge he will overcome. I am looking forward to many more dinner visits and summer afternoon's spent in the cool shade of a splendid garden waiting for the tasty treasures on the barbeque.
Once again today gun violence is in the news. In Germany a 17 year old has killed 16 people at a high school he used to attend before being killed himself. In America a man has killed 11 people in Alabama including members of his own family before his own death. I think we are immune to the news of these rampages, we should be scared but I think we are only vaguely sad. Most of us just shake our heads and say "what a world" and not wonderful like the one of green trees, red roses, blue skies and friends saying I love you.
On the weekend during a coversation with some friends about what we would do should we learn that our unborn child is an invalid we all agreed terminating the pregnancy would be best for everyone. After this discussion I came upon this passage in Mary Karr's memoir The Liar's Club: "I've heard it said that caring for an invalid is like caring for a baby. And I suppose it's the same basic deal, but a baby rewards you each day with change, sprouting a tooth or discovering that the object randomingly waggling before its eyes is, in fact, its own hand. But an invalid is a hole you pour yourself into. Every day he fixes you with a glance more gnawed-out than yours, more hurt. If life is suffering (as the Buddha says), some endless shit-eating contest, then the invalid always wins, hands down."
Also on Saturday I got a few seconds of fame while watching the Canada and U.S. baseball game at the Rogers Centre. Just before the final out, there was a crowd shot and 3 of the 7 of us got on Sportsnet, standing and cheering like fools. It was a good game and very intense but Canada couldn't pull off the upset. So we drove home in the pouring rain, went out to country bar and got really drunk, then played poker and video game hockey until seven or so.
Hopefully soon the daylight will be worth saving because right now it is just an hour of sleep I would rather have had.
john.
The Longer I Run by Peter Bradley Adams
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIl8OufGf64
You can buy Peter's music at the link below.
http://tinyurl.com/Leavetaking-Amazon-Music-Store
(Thanks to Kara McGraw @ Sarathan Records for the link)
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