Overheard at Table 2: from Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 319

1-2-2013

For Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 319 Track 2

Madeliene Peyroux "Always a Use"

Maybe baby it always ain't worth
the trouble but there is always trouble
in my mind
and I never get used to you.
Baby you won't ever want to see me if you
knew how I make up the 
truth as I go along.
My thoughts are the pebbles you 
so casually tossed into the stream
Maybe baby life ain't never really
what you dream, but it seems
you could one day get used to me.

MR

2013-0102

Overheard at Table 4: SC 44 t2 "Welcome to the Jungle"

Notes from The Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 44, track 2 Guns n' Roses "Welcome to the Jungle"

When your eyes are never used to looking down, do you have a greater sense of vertigo?

Standing on that balcony, the street so far below ... do you have a unique sense of just how far it is to fall?

MR
2013-0104

Overheard at Table 4: Notes from a future SC "The Brilliant Dance"

 from whatever Salinghetti Chronilce this song winds up on...

Dashboard Confessional

"The Brilliant Dance"

"Find a peace pick it up

all down

that's what they say

    but they lie."

Breaking is a finest find that 

burned this morning

down.

MR

2021-0121

Overheard at Table 3: Español Septimo

T1

Ella buscaba su alma abajo la luna sensual. 

Y él, él no sabía que su vida iba en punto de cambiar.

Los dos, torturados por el ritmo de la vida, una vida en lo que gana nada que obediencia de la machina odioso.

t10

Era la reina del pop, pero ahora, no.

es una lástima, de verdad, como la fama destruya la cara, como desforma el cuerpo.

Podemos ver, de nuestras vidas sin fama, que las luces brillantes mostra todos los defectos en el carácter de nuestros heroes y heroinas.

Hasta que son nada pero empty shells.  Shells of eggs.   Que quebrantan tan fácilmente.

Overread at Booth 4: Bits from The Salinghetti Chronicles Vol 345

SC 345

t16

Ralph Stanley – Longing for Home

. . . 

the times were hard through the corn and even now the old man sees them only through the yellowed memories that wear him ricepaper thin, but yes he does still recall the girl through the mist, the girl in the polka dot dress, pink polka dots on white, as she was toward him through the years, still carrying a piping hot bowl of stew oven mitts in hand and a smile on her face, because he’d just told a funny joke as she was walking down from the house, under the shade of the big oak tree . . .

t18

David Dondero – Laying Low in Eli, Nevada

. . . 

do you know what I mean?  I’m talkin’ nude cakes of cash,

she’s a drag splittin’ queen, and I can tell you that she’s all phoney grits and glam,

with a terrible flair for alternate states of mind, and layin off some mind and faroff other countries,

there's nothing left to explode,

from this three part waitress with her sidesplit getting a little narrow.

and there’s a little space of her left, somewhere between the edge of the bed and the wall, just the short crack where the bed is shoved against the wall,

and you can slip down between it, to the carpet far far below,

and you can look for your foreign countries there,

down there with the mice-brown hair and potatochip crumbs

I woke up to the lipstick casino neon light flashing in the bathroom mirror.

MR

2008-0904

Overread at Booth 2: Notes for Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 360 - First Fall Night

 The Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 360

First Fall Night

Matthew LaBarge – Prelude

Fred Small – The Heart of the Appaloosa

Spectrum – The Thunder Rolls

Ani DiFranco – Both Hands

Kenny Baker & Bill Monroe - Jerusalem Ridge

Ani DiFranco – Dog Coffee

Bill Monroe – Going Across the Sea

Ani DiFranco – Fire Door

Spectrum – While She Sleeps

Ani DiFranco – The Slant

Fred Small - Talking Wheelchair Blues

Ani DiFranco – Rush Hour

Matthew LaBarge – Love Song

Ani DiFranco – Out of Habit

Ani DiFranco – Every Angle

Spectrum – Ricky’s Prayer

Ani DiFranco – Work Your Way Out

Ani DiFranco – Talk to Me Now

Spectrum – Storms in Africa

Ani DiFranco – Letting the Telephone Ring

Spectrum – The Thunder Rolls

he looked out the window a the mist of the darkening sun, the late afternoon rain, that thundered into early evening, and the cool mist that it created – the mist that he knew was from the heat and the steam of the ground, as though the hearth were giving up its own breath, as though as a refutation of the breath that God had breathed into the creatures that He had formed from the dust . . . 

Ani DiFranco – Both Hands

and she was wandering through the rain in the evening and she was hunched down inside her thick peacoat that was once belonged to her great uncle and she was passing by the stone buildings and iron railings and in this grey Manhattan midwinter she had the cellphone crocked under her cheek and she was listening for the end of the line to answer and she was rubbing both hands together and blowing steam through her fingers and they were numb and red and she was thinking

about old women’s faces behind doors as she snuck men to her room and she was thinking of the lampshade that he broke in low moans and the curtains that were torn from the rungs and she was thinking of her both hands that she rubbing together now how her fingers traced the downline of his back and found the soft hair of his plexus and how

both her hands

had been in both his hands and how

they had all been warm.

Kenny Baker & Bill Monroe – Jerusalem Ridge

Ani DiFranco – Dog Coffee

walking Central Park,

outside, leaves crossing path where roots kicking up the sidewalk,

going into – and then

at first light walking through a procedure in the dark,

Ani DiFranco – Fire Door

looking out the window while drinking coffee

While She Sleeps

Ani DiFranco – Pale Purple

woman behind the counter – reaching for keys – tight behind the shirt

Matthew LaBarge – Love Song

watching her walk toward the bathroom, shedding her coat as she strides, the elegance of her calves, slender yet strong, sinews lacing around the Achilles heel.

she stretches,  pulling her hair out from the tieback, letting it cascade in black waterfall.

NOTES WRITTEN:

MR

2009-0617

Overheard at Table 2: Salinghetti Chronicles Vol 332 Track 3

SC Vol 332 t3

I'm not the one for going,
nor for false explosions
I'm not the one for knowledge, nor
the valley of past experiences,

and I know that you are with me
and I know there is no resistance
and I know that which will contain us
will carry us through the distance,

and you have blossomed all my friendships
and you have shown me how to touch
and you have offered me a tall ship
to sail into the distance
to sail into the distance

where we will never more be found.



MR
2020-09

Overheard at Table 2: The Salinghetti Chronicles Vol 316 Disc 2

316 d2 t17

Everybody wants to live their lives.  August wants to be alone.

They were left in the car park.  They didn’t know which way they were supposed to go.

They kissed in the garden.  They found a tiny place to pray.

Overheard at Table 3: Scenes from Strangefellani Lounge

Guy walks up to the piano player, says, "Hey do you know 'Witchy Woman'?"

Piano player says, "I'm FAMILIAR with it."

[ba-da-bump]

Overheard at Table 2: SC 270 - Notes from Churmangura House - Disc 1 Track 14

SC 270

D1 T14 Rickie Lee Jones - Tigers

Go out to where the stars are wild and cold.  Follow me, riptide, follow me awhile.   Let’s dance under moonlight and the insects buzzing sweetwillow, playing in the past parts of our unusual character.

Playing with fire, the frozen fire that crackles from the desert floor in the obsidian underbelly of the night.   Laying on the blanket, the old woven blanket that you got from your grandmother who stole it from the Navajo.

Our feathers will fall like the shooting stars across the timeless ocean of obsidian sky. 

Laying in tatters.

Sleeping all shredded like that.

Dreaming of white tygers, tygers, burning bright.

Memories of that far off city, watching Julio climb up the firescape and in through your open window, to drag you out and make our great escape. 

Tomorrow we will head into town and try to catch that train.  There is always another train.

Overread at Booth 3: Salinghetti Chronicles Vol 190 - Persimmon and Lace

t1 Jocelyn West feat. David Lynch "Flame and Visions"

couch back, table turned, room darkened, throw pillows on the floor, thrown, staid, stayed.  She is gone now.  Gone forever.  Gone to the store.  Gone going gone, and then the thundercrack the lightning bolt, the sky outside is purple like a blood blister wanting to burst out loud and crush everything in its path.

t4 - Emiliana Torrini "Nothing Brings Me Down"

my love for you is ridiculous.  my love for you is waiting.  my love for you is a song you sing in the in the rain.  my love for you is what brings down the wildlings and the roses. 

my love for you is hidden.  my love for you peers out from behind the smooth stones in the garden where the water flows.

Overheard at Table 4: The Truth, Summed Up

And I remember my grandfather, Giuseppe Salinghetti, who summed up how to live a good life.  He said, "Read more. Talk less."

Overread at Booth 1: from "The Collected Works of Giuseppe Salinghetti"

The speed of time is inversely proportional to one's awareness of it. - Giuseppe Salinghetti

The Salinghetti Chronicles Vol 163, Track 1

SC Vol. 163, T1


Team Sleep - Delorian

....eyes opened again to the sight of the water stained ceiling.  Where am I?  sounds of cars outside make me think of a highway motel.  Lights, neon.  Typical.  There is the faint smell of damp piss rising up from the carpet and there is some movement in the bathroom.  Don’t really know who I want to see coming out of there.  There is a tv on the table by the wall, by the door, what the hell are these wood panels on the walls, good god have I been sent back to the seventies?

Overread at Table 2: These Are Days in Eden

SC 256 T8 - 10,000 Maniacs “Eden”

These are the days in which we are unmade,
like a bed with rumpled sheets and no maid to clean them:
not here; not in this feral mist
that swirls outside this dank motel room
filled with cigarette stains and diesel fumes,

and the curtains are like shrouds and the cobwebs
fill the corners of broken windows and we long for

the break of daylight in winter,
the call of gulls at seasides,
the dark purple rain across the spiny ridge of mountains
that brings that smell of new Spring.

MR

2019-0128

Overheard at Table One: Foreplay and 3 Minutes

Joseph: Overheard this woman at work and she was telling another co-worker, "He's a three-minute guy but he makes up for it with some AWESOME foreplay, and I thought, "Man, if my wife heard that she'd say, 'Hey, are you sleeping with my husband?'"

Monica [sips her coffee]

Joseph: Wouldn't you?

Monica: Wouldn't what?

Joseph: Say that to her?

Monica [slight grimace]: Well, honey, I'd have to say that - yes - you ARE a three minute man, but your foreplay ... could use a little work.

Joseph: It's not "awesome" ??

Monica [reaches over and pats the back of his hand]: But you know I love you!






-
From the Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 60, Track 9
Tracey Chapman - Give Me One Reason

Lying on the Counter: centered

right between the eyes, the catalyst, the trucker mother rears her oblivious head and shouts something into the four winds, but the four winds are in conflux, conflagration, and generally busying themselves in an intercourse of intersection, and as such, what she has shouted has been lost in the climax, the conflux, the conflagration.

generally speaking, it has been consumed.

then, subsumed, she slinks off the stool and wanders toward the bathroom in arrears and finds herself in a body wandering through a blue field, call it lucille, some night party down, as the sun has long sat down, playing dice between the sun and the moon, yes, they throw dice, splitting the price of the garments on the sky, which they have ripped apart and scattered in the fields, where she lays down now

now, now, old she is.  old old old.  She has spent so many years dreaming of sailing across the water.  Sailing into some now sun.   Dreaming of getting rich.  Rich off of old people, and then to sail a way in a row row row boat.

gold people, gold cold gold, she sought, she snuck, she sung my precious to the no one who was there, and she is dancing now, dancing without a partner any more, all the partners have gone, they've all left down, they pulled the last shades down on the frontpiecs and the churches were no different, the bells no longer ring, and she slowly stops singing

old people, old old old old old.



from Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 53 Smoke and Ashes tk3: Tracy Chapman "Cold Feet"

At the Counter: Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 679

Verble slides a CD toward the Barista, saying, "Here, you need to listen to some good music."

The Barista looks at the names written on the CD.   "What?" she says, "No Nicki Minaj?"

"Don't make me hurt you," Verble says.

The Salinghetti Chronicles Vol. 679

A Pack of Ballads

 

Among the Oak and Ash – Hiram Hubbard

Among the Oak and Ash – Peggy-O

Bob Dylan – Jim Jones

John Wesley Harding – Little Musgrave

Dave Alvin – Blackjack Davy

The Tannahill Weavers – Harris and the Mare

Mumford and Sons – Awake my Soul

The Weepies – World Spins Madly On

Barenaked Ladies – Bank Job

Jason Fickel – Bells of Avingnon

Death Cab for Cutie – I Will Possess Your Heart

John Mayer – Who Says

Barenaked Ladies – Easy

Barenaked Ladies – Peterborough and the Kawarthas

Sigur Ros – Hoppipolla

Death Cab for Cutie – Grapevine Fires

The Pogues – Love You Till the End

Israle Kamakawiwo’ole – Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World