somedays feel pure insane
dreamed today, not tonight that I drank rum in scotland
dreamed that I was in the new place playing golf with the new kids
i hope you're of the patience you pretend
art is a victim of the backburner
noises in my head and faces on my tounge
nearly sara's birthday
wanted the ocean but as fake as a chicken
i was dry
got wet but not naked with two bikinis a couple days ago
made us all look like girls
not just for the coldness
but for the shrapizalitization
a rum away
thought i would be a rock star
thought i'de be on charlie rose by now
blame it on the commercial world but hell
coulda done it if i really had it in me
i hear the prettiest songs in the shower, at times
but i left that town behind
eye wehndt ouht ovv mye mahind 2-day
beachside dusk at dawn overcast
no good sleep in months
could blame it on the kids but it is what has always been the case
kids just give me the excuse good to be be up at that hour
i should join a bike gang
but i hate fuckin' harleys
devil inside
fidah just been grown up all somewhere'z else
woulda been just fine
but the white eagle lounge has nothing for me now
blue sky now
it is
but i can't see it
when you feel like this it's cold in summer
dark at noon
neon with grey
civil with criminal
destruction on the hammock strip
satan is a real estate agent
fuck em all
ive had it
i watched em tear all those ancient plants from it's ever lovin earth and blamed it on all but me
shoulda stood there and died with em
but i wait
i wait to lay here and die
upbeat and inspirational
silver lining aftermath
shot in the main line old girl friend pocket
manhattan burns
burn my balls
fifty yard line
punt for the goal
kick the bucket while you wash my car
burn
burn
burn it
burn it like you're hated flag
seems kilbey copied my style
can't believe it
tried to ignore it
tried to move on to dot my organs
tried but failed
sad today
facing some facts
facing spilled wine futility
mccarthyizmz
twinz in the womb
nowhere else
in all but the womb, twins
will die withought knowing eye
ohos ruhos?
wandered around atlanta on dark forbidden streets did you?
talked to animals and lost loved ones did you?
noticed the breath of the ocean did you?
heard the voice of everything and chose the voice of nothing did you?
froze just off stage?
but melted in the lights?
watched as the canary died?
predicted 9-11?
no, no anon emon
just nu-b
old bee
birds do it
machines do it
eye eye capitan rivers
an' there's mountains where that came from
b
Monday, February 20, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Splitting Crosshairs
What do you hate? What's got you're goat?
Hate the government? Governments have been corrupt since the first ancient governments. The law of Hammurabi was made to be broken you might say. Hate for government is a waste of energy. It won't change. Hate Republicans? Hate Democrats? There's no difference and your alligience is as deep as a sports fan.
Hate Religion? Hate certain religions? Hate the wars that religion and government have created together or against each other? Religion is as old as man; destruction from traditions is ancient and never ending. Look up Joseph Campbell as an expert on our habit of mythology from one culture to the next, separate but same. Look up Pol Pot the Cambodian dictator of the Khmer Rouge who killed 2 million people in 4 years. Pol Pot was Buddhist, and did so in the name of. The Baghavad Gita is an Indian holy book that describes Krishna, a god talking Arjuna, a mortal incarnate as soldier into going to war and killing, when he doesn't want to. When a Samurai wants to test a new sword, he can try it on the next person he sees, and they are supposed to consider their own death as such an honor. You can't just blame the west and Christianity. Asia begins with Israel and goes east, a neat tid-bit that I recently noticed for myself.
So, you hate meat, but you love sugar? More for the use of sugar than for meat has been done to kill and enslave humans over time. Read "Sugar Blues." We (The English to be specific) began enslaving blacks from Africa within 100 years of "discovering the new land," to support our sugar tooth habits reaping cane in the Caribbean because our tender skins and lazy bodies couldn't take the heat.
Hate blacks? You hate blacks because you are descendants of those who bought the propaganda from those who intended to use blacks as slaves to complete their opulence while working in tandem with the church. Propaganda to support the notion that blacks were less than human - A NEW IDEA AT THE TIME. A notion that is only a couple hundred years old today. Blacks from North Africa were invited into many European nations and stood side-by-side whites as equals. So thank the sugar popes first, then your recent ancestors for buying the lie. After the civil war people who actually believed creation used evolution to support their ideas that whites were superior.
Hate whites? It was the African tribe leaders who first sold the first slaves to whites. True, eventually the ships came into the bay and went ashore in huge slave round-ups, but it began with the first internal transactions. More whites died in the Civil War fighting, in part, to abolish slavery than there ever were slaves in the first place. This doesn't justify, but it's a fact worth recognizing.
Hate the guy who cut you off in traffic? Or he who tailgates? Like you've never done that?
Hate petroleum and cars? Well now you know about sugar too if you didn't already. Sugar dealers were at one point putting heroin dealers out of business at one point according to Sugar Blues. But now per President Bush the tree-hugger that he is - Americans are now addicted to petroleum. I thought that was common sense. What is common sense?
Hate people who don't have common sense? I hear this all the time. It's a popular redneck thing to say, "Them people don't have no common sense." What is common sense? The watered down mean-of-means pop-world media conglomerate mediocrity on TV that we take on as our way of living? Mourning the death of a racecar driver years after his death? Eating meat, supporting the death penalty and calling yourself pro-life? Saying "God Loves You with a bumper sticker but then saying, "god hates fags" with your mouth?
Hate fags? The Greco-roman western culture that is the basis for your democracy and theories of freedom science and religion was built up and run on the leadership of those you might call fags. It was the norm to take another male as your sexual release and preserve virgins for marriage. Now neither is the norm. I'm not suggesting better over worse, just void reasons to hate people. The same corporations that call themselves conservative and family friendly are the same ones making the most money of the porn industry. Pay-per-view in your hotel room? Do you have any idea who got their cut? Who cares, as long as you don't watch gay porn right?
Who do you hate? You hate something. Hate is in you and you redirect it to something outside yourself. We all feel justified in hating something. It's like assuming that hating the right thing is ok, as if we're justified within our choice. Hate is always the same, the same creature, as if a chemical in our brains. It doesn't matter what you hate, hate itself is the only thing to hate.
Who do I hate? Am I hateless person to have such thoughts? What do I love to loathe? I can guess these are questions that someone might ask if someone reads this someday. I'm sure it's clear that leftover hateful liquid seeps from the seams in what I assembled for your consideration. Perhaps you can see though that I'm in a battle with these feelings. A dark rancid anger, so I am human. But a human can be more than this. Know it. Simply: All that is not to hate is to love, everything. I can think this, but I want to believe it to my core. It will take practice.
I'll admit that I have a tendency to hate rich people most. They seem to be miserable but oblivious to the fact, while looking down their nose at the rest of us. I hate Palm Coast. It's full of miserable rich people, it always has been. They are retired, or milking the retired, entitled to anything, but still so high strung and dissatisfied with everything. I don't want to be this way when I reach retirement age. I hope that when I'm 65, lord willing, that I will look forward still, but when I do look back I will see a life that was spent in the beautiful Florida landscapes and oceanside. I will see that I had a beautiful family and beautiful friends, that I appreciated them, and that I was able to show them this appreciation. I want to be able to look back and see that I was able to see hate for what it is, pure hate, no matter what is hated, and was able to rid my mind and body of it.
(as a note - I was asked by my girlfriend, who read this post - "interesting, but what are your sources for all that? - The book - Sugar Blues, Years of watching PBS Ken Burns documentaries in particular, and listening to NPR shows.)
b
Hate the government? Governments have been corrupt since the first ancient governments. The law of Hammurabi was made to be broken you might say. Hate for government is a waste of energy. It won't change. Hate Republicans? Hate Democrats? There's no difference and your alligience is as deep as a sports fan.
Hate Religion? Hate certain religions? Hate the wars that religion and government have created together or against each other? Religion is as old as man; destruction from traditions is ancient and never ending. Look up Joseph Campbell as an expert on our habit of mythology from one culture to the next, separate but same. Look up Pol Pot the Cambodian dictator of the Khmer Rouge who killed 2 million people in 4 years. Pol Pot was Buddhist, and did so in the name of. The Baghavad Gita is an Indian holy book that describes Krishna, a god talking Arjuna, a mortal incarnate as soldier into going to war and killing, when he doesn't want to. When a Samurai wants to test a new sword, he can try it on the next person he sees, and they are supposed to consider their own death as such an honor. You can't just blame the west and Christianity. Asia begins with Israel and goes east, a neat tid-bit that I recently noticed for myself.
So, you hate meat, but you love sugar? More for the use of sugar than for meat has been done to kill and enslave humans over time. Read "Sugar Blues." We (The English to be specific) began enslaving blacks from Africa within 100 years of "discovering the new land," to support our sugar tooth habits reaping cane in the Caribbean because our tender skins and lazy bodies couldn't take the heat.
Hate blacks? You hate blacks because you are descendants of those who bought the propaganda from those who intended to use blacks as slaves to complete their opulence while working in tandem with the church. Propaganda to support the notion that blacks were less than human - A NEW IDEA AT THE TIME. A notion that is only a couple hundred years old today. Blacks from North Africa were invited into many European nations and stood side-by-side whites as equals. So thank the sugar popes first, then your recent ancestors for buying the lie. After the civil war people who actually believed creation used evolution to support their ideas that whites were superior.
Hate whites? It was the African tribe leaders who first sold the first slaves to whites. True, eventually the ships came into the bay and went ashore in huge slave round-ups, but it began with the first internal transactions. More whites died in the Civil War fighting, in part, to abolish slavery than there ever were slaves in the first place. This doesn't justify, but it's a fact worth recognizing.
Hate the guy who cut you off in traffic? Or he who tailgates? Like you've never done that?
Hate petroleum and cars? Well now you know about sugar too if you didn't already. Sugar dealers were at one point putting heroin dealers out of business at one point according to Sugar Blues. But now per President Bush the tree-hugger that he is - Americans are now addicted to petroleum. I thought that was common sense. What is common sense?
Hate people who don't have common sense? I hear this all the time. It's a popular redneck thing to say, "Them people don't have no common sense." What is common sense? The watered down mean-of-means pop-world media conglomerate mediocrity on TV that we take on as our way of living? Mourning the death of a racecar driver years after his death? Eating meat, supporting the death penalty and calling yourself pro-life? Saying "God Loves You with a bumper sticker but then saying, "god hates fags" with your mouth?
Hate fags? The Greco-roman western culture that is the basis for your democracy and theories of freedom science and religion was built up and run on the leadership of those you might call fags. It was the norm to take another male as your sexual release and preserve virgins for marriage. Now neither is the norm. I'm not suggesting better over worse, just void reasons to hate people. The same corporations that call themselves conservative and family friendly are the same ones making the most money of the porn industry. Pay-per-view in your hotel room? Do you have any idea who got their cut? Who cares, as long as you don't watch gay porn right?
Who do you hate? You hate something. Hate is in you and you redirect it to something outside yourself. We all feel justified in hating something. It's like assuming that hating the right thing is ok, as if we're justified within our choice. Hate is always the same, the same creature, as if a chemical in our brains. It doesn't matter what you hate, hate itself is the only thing to hate.
Who do I hate? Am I hateless person to have such thoughts? What do I love to loathe? I can guess these are questions that someone might ask if someone reads this someday. I'm sure it's clear that leftover hateful liquid seeps from the seams in what I assembled for your consideration. Perhaps you can see though that I'm in a battle with these feelings. A dark rancid anger, so I am human. But a human can be more than this. Know it. Simply: All that is not to hate is to love, everything. I can think this, but I want to believe it to my core. It will take practice.
I'll admit that I have a tendency to hate rich people most. They seem to be miserable but oblivious to the fact, while looking down their nose at the rest of us. I hate Palm Coast. It's full of miserable rich people, it always has been. They are retired, or milking the retired, entitled to anything, but still so high strung and dissatisfied with everything. I don't want to be this way when I reach retirement age. I hope that when I'm 65, lord willing, that I will look forward still, but when I do look back I will see a life that was spent in the beautiful Florida landscapes and oceanside. I will see that I had a beautiful family and beautiful friends, that I appreciated them, and that I was able to show them this appreciation. I want to be able to look back and see that I was able to see hate for what it is, pure hate, no matter what is hated, and was able to rid my mind and body of it.
(as a note - I was asked by my girlfriend, who read this post - "interesting, but what are your sources for all that? - The book - Sugar Blues, Years of watching PBS Ken Burns documentaries in particular, and listening to NPR shows.)
b
Wednesday, February 8, 2006
Rope Trick
Took a closer look. Had a treehouse with no windows but for one door that took me to a limb near the clouds. Nobody I knew ever knew about my treehouse. I went back there for years. My secret spot. Out on a limb, alone. Perfect. Whenever I got near it, I would stop by. Up in the tree, just me. My place, my world.
Not long ago I introduced myself and invited up some strangers to share it. Some were silent, some were sullen, some were great company. A lava lamp party in a house in the sky with no electricity just dharma, and karma. Dharma is for killing karma. Bad Karma is bad, but all karma is worse. Get past the whole thing see? The system.
So we talked and chatted, got stuck in the tree, couldn't find the door, can't find sleep. Been here for years now, me and these trucky cats. The ladder truck's in the shop. The corn fields are put down for strip malls. Now our choices are endless. Take a closer look. We've unfolded the last of our origami collections and find all the flat pieces fitting together in the shape of a picture that sometimes repels.
Went to climb down. Ladder's gone. They gave my position at work to somebody new by now anyway I'm sure, so here I'll stay too comfortable to jump. To jump from my little world, my place. Crowded, but I can close my eyes. Then eye opened one I to the morning sky one night to find dark growling clouds about my limbs. Held flowers in my hand at tuck-in but now they are destroyed, petals everywhere, about my bed. The ladybugs are dead. When you break up with friends, do you snap it off, or let them down easy? Always surprised anyone cares either way, didn't till rejected anyway, why now?
So sensitive and quick to chase the sensitive. Senses, now that's Maya! Lila and Maya are supposed to be two different things. Tapping a shoulder from your backside. You turn and they say, "No, Over here!" Listening inside, free of senses, would have known the minute they came in the room. Caught their finger with yours on the first tap. But now you're tapped. Ran down to the end of the drag track and back pretending it's a lap, but it's no circle it's just the same old linear chute release, over and over. "But the speed! The rush! Have you forgotten!?"
No, not forgotten, I remember it all, that's the problem. Could fall asleep on a rollercoaster if I rode it all day, but now I'm waking amongst sleeping would be friends in this treehouse near unwanted dark clouds, and the sun (or the earth rather) has just made it to the point where long light has cast across my qwertyuiop keyboard fingers. Feel don't think. Think don't feel. The better pirates can wait till port and don't need a cabin boy. The best of em' just read in the cabin at the marina, and leave behind anyone who sleeps ashore at the time we cast off. Dockmaster once told me - "There are boat drivers and there are captains, once you know what you're doing you can see 'em comin' from way up the river, you'll know which is which. You'll have you're ropes ready."
I've threatened to jump ship from the treehouse. I should do it while they are all asleep. That way there will be no suspicion into my genuine intentions which are to escape, escape rather than to be seen as acting out a request for attendance. If only I could throw myself a rope. Once apon a time one came down out of the sky. I took hold and forgot my trip to the store, got high and spent my money at the top, thought I knew it all at that point, but didn't know a thing. When I came back to the treehouse of my skull the smoke cleared, and I could see that the only lesson I learned is that the previous lesson had nothing to teach. Now I'm looking at the ground. It gets dizzy. I get dizzy. The distance to me keeps changing. I scoot to the edge, nice and quiet, the sweaty inside of my hands hold the doorway, the tree is gone, only house. They are gone. I took too long. I'm alone here forever.
b
Not long ago I introduced myself and invited up some strangers to share it. Some were silent, some were sullen, some were great company. A lava lamp party in a house in the sky with no electricity just dharma, and karma. Dharma is for killing karma. Bad Karma is bad, but all karma is worse. Get past the whole thing see? The system.
So we talked and chatted, got stuck in the tree, couldn't find the door, can't find sleep. Been here for years now, me and these trucky cats. The ladder truck's in the shop. The corn fields are put down for strip malls. Now our choices are endless. Take a closer look. We've unfolded the last of our origami collections and find all the flat pieces fitting together in the shape of a picture that sometimes repels.
Went to climb down. Ladder's gone. They gave my position at work to somebody new by now anyway I'm sure, so here I'll stay too comfortable to jump. To jump from my little world, my place. Crowded, but I can close my eyes. Then eye opened one I to the morning sky one night to find dark growling clouds about my limbs. Held flowers in my hand at tuck-in but now they are destroyed, petals everywhere, about my bed. The ladybugs are dead. When you break up with friends, do you snap it off, or let them down easy? Always surprised anyone cares either way, didn't till rejected anyway, why now?
So sensitive and quick to chase the sensitive. Senses, now that's Maya! Lila and Maya are supposed to be two different things. Tapping a shoulder from your backside. You turn and they say, "No, Over here!" Listening inside, free of senses, would have known the minute they came in the room. Caught their finger with yours on the first tap. But now you're tapped. Ran down to the end of the drag track and back pretending it's a lap, but it's no circle it's just the same old linear chute release, over and over. "But the speed! The rush! Have you forgotten!?"
No, not forgotten, I remember it all, that's the problem. Could fall asleep on a rollercoaster if I rode it all day, but now I'm waking amongst sleeping would be friends in this treehouse near unwanted dark clouds, and the sun (or the earth rather) has just made it to the point where long light has cast across my qwertyuiop keyboard fingers. Feel don't think. Think don't feel. The better pirates can wait till port and don't need a cabin boy. The best of em' just read in the cabin at the marina, and leave behind anyone who sleeps ashore at the time we cast off. Dockmaster once told me - "There are boat drivers and there are captains, once you know what you're doing you can see 'em comin' from way up the river, you'll know which is which. You'll have you're ropes ready."
I've threatened to jump ship from the treehouse. I should do it while they are all asleep. That way there will be no suspicion into my genuine intentions which are to escape, escape rather than to be seen as acting out a request for attendance. If only I could throw myself a rope. Once apon a time one came down out of the sky. I took hold and forgot my trip to the store, got high and spent my money at the top, thought I knew it all at that point, but didn't know a thing. When I came back to the treehouse of my skull the smoke cleared, and I could see that the only lesson I learned is that the previous lesson had nothing to teach. Now I'm looking at the ground. It gets dizzy. I get dizzy. The distance to me keeps changing. I scoot to the edge, nice and quiet, the sweaty inside of my hands hold the doorway, the tree is gone, only house. They are gone. I took too long. I'm alone here forever.
b
Tuesday, February 7, 2006
another brick in the...
like chewing food as a child in a state of tears
it just wont go down, it stays in an unpalatable consistency
i can't seem to wrap around the subject
i think of and rather do all the things I've forgotten to, but this
this is akin to watching martha stewart on acid
to plucking toe nails with a crowbar
to knocking out my own teeth on the ground/street with hands tied behind my back
to shaving my head and then eating the hair
to letting an angry arab doctor take a culture from inside my penis with a hooked device (actually happened once, after developing prostititus after too many drugs and thinking I might have VD)
to hanging out with my dad and his new wife
statistics homework - i would rather be fighting in iraq
such stupid opinions about something so simple
this is why i'm sure i don't have it in perspective
if I could just get it in focus i'd be fine
because, of course, i would rather do a little homework than all those things
I took all the things I was interested in first, desert first if you like
now i'm trying to get over a giant speed bump, and the bearings on my board are blown. I need to get up some speed then I can ollie up and over.
Today's my health care class. I actually enjoy that one a lot. I can never tell what the instructor's gonna say. She endorses smoking pot as an alternative to alcohol use. Not that strange but for it's source in this case. A note: When she said she never knew of Peter Garrett in a previous post, and I found that odd, as she says she spent time in Australia as the regional president of greenpeace - well, she said she finished in the 70's and came back here. Just thought 'id add that. PG only got going in the early 80's from what I know, so I can see how she may have never heard of him.
But who cares. Martha Stewart taking acid might kinda fun to watch though - above I mean't me trippin' and watchin her show. But...
Gotta go! Too much time bloggin!!!
b
it just wont go down, it stays in an unpalatable consistency
i can't seem to wrap around the subject
i think of and rather do all the things I've forgotten to, but this
this is akin to watching martha stewart on acid
to plucking toe nails with a crowbar
to knocking out my own teeth on the ground/street with hands tied behind my back
to shaving my head and then eating the hair
to letting an angry arab doctor take a culture from inside my penis with a hooked device (actually happened once, after developing prostititus after too many drugs and thinking I might have VD)
to hanging out with my dad and his new wife
statistics homework - i would rather be fighting in iraq
such stupid opinions about something so simple
this is why i'm sure i don't have it in perspective
if I could just get it in focus i'd be fine
because, of course, i would rather do a little homework than all those things
I took all the things I was interested in first, desert first if you like
now i'm trying to get over a giant speed bump, and the bearings on my board are blown. I need to get up some speed then I can ollie up and over.
Today's my health care class. I actually enjoy that one a lot. I can never tell what the instructor's gonna say. She endorses smoking pot as an alternative to alcohol use. Not that strange but for it's source in this case. A note: When she said she never knew of Peter Garrett in a previous post, and I found that odd, as she says she spent time in Australia as the regional president of greenpeace - well, she said she finished in the 70's and came back here. Just thought 'id add that. PG only got going in the early 80's from what I know, so I can see how she may have never heard of him.
But who cares. Martha Stewart taking acid might kinda fun to watch though - above I mean't me trippin' and watchin her show. But...
Gotta go! Too much time bloggin!!!
b
Friday, February 3, 2006
Java Joint
I got a job. I'm working in a little coffee house/restaurant by the ocean. I like it so far. The clientel are cool. There are paintings on the walls. I've waited tables before. Red star in the insignia, and on my t-shirt for work. The two girls who own it are partners. We "pool tips," all of us. All the money you make/earn goes in a tip jar and is redistributed amongst the staff every two weeks. You must trust strangers sometimes. A test of you're greed instinct. Server minimum wage in Florida is 2 something an hour, the rational is that you're making tips so hour wage is less. I make $5.15 an hour @ Java Joint though, that check comes every other Tuesday. I get a free meal every shift, and the food is wonderful. All the coffee or tea I can drink. Lots of vegetarian options. I'm not a pure vegetarian of course, but I try to be as much as possible. When friends or family come in the owners insist on offering something, "on the house." The senario is of course a microcosmic socialism.
When I've waited tables before you might get half off a meal. You have assigned side work that must be completed before you can leave, and everyone's got their section on the floor, you can help your fellow workers but it's actually optional. You make you're own tips for you're own work. You can claim the tips as income with the government, supposed to, but most don't. The business owner gets none of what you make of course. But he/she's only paying you the minimum possible as wage. This senario is obviously capitalism.
Both can work. If all who are involved are on the same page by choice then either is fine. Both are different, both are same.
Java = coffee, Joint = Pot...Coffee Pot!
b
When I've waited tables before you might get half off a meal. You have assigned side work that must be completed before you can leave, and everyone's got their section on the floor, you can help your fellow workers but it's actually optional. You make you're own tips for you're own work. You can claim the tips as income with the government, supposed to, but most don't. The business owner gets none of what you make of course. But he/she's only paying you the minimum possible as wage. This senario is obviously capitalism.
Both can work. If all who are involved are on the same page by choice then either is fine. Both are different, both are same.
Java = coffee, Joint = Pot...Coffee Pot!
b
my space
I just set up a "my space" account: www.myspace.com/versaviceburkley
Not sure what it's all about yet. I filled in the profile requirements.
(post-note - i don't have a clue how to get back into this. Either I screwed up the original e-mail address or something with the password, whatever, frozen in time)
(post-post note - now I'm using www.myspace.com/bradleyalbertburkley)
b
Not sure what it's all about yet. I filled in the profile requirements.
(post-note - i don't have a clue how to get back into this. Either I screwed up the original e-mail address or something with the password, whatever, frozen in time)
(post-post note - now I'm using www.myspace.com/bradleyalbertburkley)
b
Wednesday, February 1, 2006
Blog as Messageboard
Today (all morning)- Mark Sandman, Blonde Redhead, Nick Drake, Frank Black, "Reward" The Church, Smog, Lungfish, "Dominoes" Syd Barrett, Love and Rockets, Electrafixion, Nico, and Spoon (<-really good newer band). I've been checking out some of the other blogs this morning too: Tony Pucci, Fandorin, eek and Virginia. Virginia - I read the info that you linked - as if an invisible monkey climbed on and won't let go. Human suffering, one of the three things we all share, manifests itself in the least subtle ways sometimes. I hope the pain evaporates. I'll be thinking of you.
IndraEek - I must agree that there are often little protests on corners in G-ville. I often got the impression that the characters there weren't so much interested in impressing a message as they were just trying to get people to look at them. I think I even saw a sign once - "I'll Pray for You." ;)
Fandorin Files - Cool info. A girl with a guitar who is not a girl with a guitar but becomes a girl with a guitar - suddenly Donovan pops in my head!
Tony Pucci - The master of finding the light in shadows and bliss in meloncholy. Music poetry and living alike.
I'll be checking back on your blogs - it's all just a matter of time finding. I'm not sure why I find myself reporting the random selections of my CD player so. Roger moaning about pigs on the wing a second ago, now Cy from The Fixx singing of Camphor. Just something cool about hearing a commercial free station playing all your sure-bet favorites.
Radio - b over and out!
IndraEek - I must agree that there are often little protests on corners in G-ville. I often got the impression that the characters there weren't so much interested in impressing a message as they were just trying to get people to look at them. I think I even saw a sign once - "I'll Pray for You." ;)
Fandorin Files - Cool info. A girl with a guitar who is not a girl with a guitar but becomes a girl with a guitar - suddenly Donovan pops in my head!
Tony Pucci - The master of finding the light in shadows and bliss in meloncholy. Music poetry and living alike.
I'll be checking back on your blogs - it's all just a matter of time finding. I'm not sure why I find myself reporting the random selections of my CD player so. Roger moaning about pigs on the wing a second ago, now Cy from The Fixx singing of Camphor. Just something cool about hearing a commercial free station playing all your sure-bet favorites.
Radio - b over and out!
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