Music Video Codes by VideoCure.com
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
At the villa of the Baron De Signac,
Where I spent a somewhat infamous year,
At the villa of the Baron De Signac
I had ladies in attendance,
Fire-opal pendants...
Liaisons!
What's happened to them?
Liaisons today.
Disgraceful!
Where I spent a somewhat infamous year,
At the villa of the Baron De Signac
I had ladies in attendance,
Fire-opal pendants...
Liaisons!
What's happened to them?
Liaisons today.
Disgraceful!
I am home this evening. For the first time in damn near a month, I am home and going to bed at an early hour. No studying to do, no grading papers, no stress besides laundry. I am listening to Les Miserables simply because I don't have A Little Night Music nor does the iTunes Music Store. Heartbeats would be perfect right now as well, but that CD was lost to the ages years ago. Somehow the shows at Music Circus have rekindled my love of musicals... remembering the performances that I attended as a child, or the more recent London shows brings a smile to my face.
What once was a rare champagne
Is now just an amiable hock,
What once was a villa, at least,
Is "digs."
What once was a gown with train
Is now just a simple little frock,
What once was a sumptuous feast
Is figs.
No--not even figs--raisins!
Ah, liaisons!
Life is so funny.... It takes you in so many places, and while often only for a fleeting moment, is entwined with the lives of the thousands upon thousands that are in existence at the same instant.
Now, where was I?
Where was I?
Oh, yes...
At the palace of the Duke of Ferrara,
Who was prematurely deaf but a dear,
At the palace of the Duke of Ferrara
I acquired some position
Plus a tiny Titian...
Liaisons!
What's happened to them?
Liaisons today.
To see them--indiscriminate Women, it
Pains me more than I can say,
The lack of taste that they display!
Where is style?
Where is skill?
Where is forethought?
Where's discretion of the heart?
Where's passion in the art?
Where's craft?
Monday, August 14, 2006
Forget about being guilty, we are innocent instead.
Soon we will all find our lives swept away.
The current count-down is D-12... Chula Vista here we come. There is something about the first Dave concert of the season that is both exciting and terrifying at the same time. The excitement comes from the anticipation. A live show--Dave, Carter, Boyd, Stefan, LeRoi, Butch, and now Rayshawn--all on stage together, their energy making an entire summer boil down to one evening.
Take a look again, everyday things change
But basically, you and me stay the same
The past few weeks have been very bizarre, to say the least. Thoughts, fears, hopes, desires, dreams, lusts, they are a tempest within my head. The painful memories that have haunted my dreams for the past year and a half no longer content themselves with playing their draconian pantomime while I sleep. They surface and, in the light of day, become real. A cold sweat breaks my forehead when a car matching make and model passes on the freeway, the color doesn't even have to be the same--the mind boggles.
An old friend, for whom a particular breed of painful memory faded and withered long ago, asked me about the nature of the pain over a glass of red wine--I don't believe he noticed the tears that began to form behind my sunglasses. The San Francisco streets may be the best place to just let the emotion go, to finally let the tears come after such time has passed. But never let them see you bleed.
They are often like sharks, the scent of blood, riding the current like crimson-iron on the current, draws them near. But emotion is not my weakness--far from it. My weakness, and my demons, are much more complicated than simple emotion. They use the emotion as a pawn in this medieval game that slowly plays out in my soul.
And yet, there is so much more. Without the rules, the game is nothing--and without the game, the rules are nothing.
Soon we will all find our lives swept away.
The current count-down is D-12... Chula Vista here we come. There is something about the first Dave concert of the season that is both exciting and terrifying at the same time. The excitement comes from the anticipation. A live show--Dave, Carter, Boyd, Stefan, LeRoi, Butch, and now Rayshawn--all on stage together, their energy making an entire summer boil down to one evening.
Take a look again, everyday things change
But basically, you and me stay the same
The past few weeks have been very bizarre, to say the least. Thoughts, fears, hopes, desires, dreams, lusts, they are a tempest within my head. The painful memories that have haunted my dreams for the past year and a half no longer content themselves with playing their draconian pantomime while I sleep. They surface and, in the light of day, become real. A cold sweat breaks my forehead when a car matching make and model passes on the freeway, the color doesn't even have to be the same--the mind boggles.
An old friend, for whom a particular breed of painful memory faded and withered long ago, asked me about the nature of the pain over a glass of red wine--I don't believe he noticed the tears that began to form behind my sunglasses. The San Francisco streets may be the best place to just let the emotion go, to finally let the tears come after such time has passed. But never let them see you bleed.
They are often like sharks, the scent of blood, riding the current like crimson-iron on the current, draws them near. But emotion is not my weakness--far from it. My weakness, and my demons, are much more complicated than simple emotion. They use the emotion as a pawn in this medieval game that slowly plays out in my soul.
And yet, there is so much more. Without the rules, the game is nothing--and without the game, the rules are nothing.
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