Up on the Vid Screen, playing across the room

A most absolutely casi perfecto version of "The Twa Corbies" - it's amazing this thing doesn't have a million listens . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lXdH-LDqqY\

(the pic may not link, but the link should link.

Sorry for any technical difficulties . . . but definitely search for " Twa Corbies" by George Harvey and Grant Foster - this version has the most haunting aura that perfectly suits this song)

Boy - Skin (Acoustic Version)

Yes, this video was
Uploaded on Jan 5, 2012

Video directed by Benedikt Schnermann/VISUALS: www.benedikt-schnermann.com

But don't you just love how we decked out the basement of the Zen and Tao Acoustic Cafe for this great great duo?  Rather proud of myself on that! Yesiree!

 

Overheard at the Counter: Typology (by MR)

Typology

MR

 

Fingerclacks against keyboard, stoccatic taptap

ing,like
dancing firecrackers against
pavement on 4thofJuly,

it is so sporadic how these fingers move

or (should I say?), get in the mood.

As they move against the type

setting the words in place, not so carefully
as one would hope, you know, but imagining, yes
these fingers imagine how
the laptop would have like to
have typed in the said calligraphic, or the
fluid Cyrillic, or the meandering
scribbles of tired scribes, offering Gallic
poems about cats, in the margins
of their exquisitely renderd Biblical
texts.

These fingers wonder if type created the

work, rather than the work merely presented
by type.   These fingers wonder would the
world be changed, irrevocably, if they could pound
this keyboard with some future typeset, perhaps
not letters, but in little smileys and pics,
emoticons, emos, instos, picpicpics, some little
mashed up goofface that has
eaten the last letter

of the last word

ever typed.

 

Poem (c) 2013 MR

Photo property of its owner (whatever brilliant mind that is) - photo entitled "Steampunk Laptop"

Overheard at Booth 2: Marriage as a Social Contract

The pastor was talking today about marriage and how Biblically marriage is supposed to be between a man and a woman, and how it is a symbol of the full qualities of God, and you know I can get into that and I think he's right and all that, but I was sitting there thinking still well, how many marriages are really all about reflecting God?

What do you mean?

Well, how many marriages do you know that are all that happy?   How many actually stay together?

Used to be a lot more.  Not so many these days.   Divorce and stuff, you know.

Yeah.  Right.   And you're always hearing all the time, she don't like him, he can't stand her, I mean good God everybody at my work is always dissing their husbands or the guys, when they talk about their wives, it's always making some crack about how they nag, man it just seems to me that this marriage stuff that the pastor was talking about, well, I don't really see who's got something that "reflects the qualities of God"

Maybe what we think of marriage really is just something made in this world.  Not really a marriage like that Bible wants to talk about.

Yeah, like you know you're technically married as soon as you sign the license at the City Hall.   All this preacher stuff is just like putting a bow around the present.  It's not the present, it's just a bow.   Try to make it all nice and pretty.

So you're thinking most marriages are just what they call 'civil unions'

Heck, I don't think even most of those are even 'civil' - they all seem pretty full of nastiness most of the time to me!

Heh!  Civil - like in Civil War.

Don't you know it!

Overheard at Table 3: Richard Brautigan

At the California Institute of Technology

At the California Institute of Technology

By Richard Brautigan 1935–1984 Richard Brautigan

I don’t care how God-damn smart

these guys are: I’m bored.

It’s been raining like hell all day long

and there’s nothing to do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Verble says: Now don't let anybody ever tell you any different, THIS man was the voice of my generation.   It was not Dylan, it was not Hendrix, it was not Leary or Abbey Hoffman or MLK or anybody else, it was Brautigan . . . full of humour and snark and sadness lurking behind the pleasurable insanity of his prose.   He was the madcap laughs, he was the stuffed pelican on the shelf, that remains in a man's house through several wives, he was the shady hat character selling mangoes out of a wooden cart on the side of the road at the base of a mountain where it's been raining all day and then the mudslide comes and just misses the cart but takes out the highway and he's still standing there saying, "now how cool is that?"

 

and it was so sad that he killed himself when the 80's began.   Maybe he saw the future: maybe he saw Reagan, maybe he say Cyndi Lauper, I don't know.   But something scared the hell out of him, and he took himself out before he could be taken, and that was sad, but somehow it let me know that the psychedelic era was truly over.   Maybe he did that to let us all know.

 

 

 

 

Sometimes you just need to see something beautiful

I can just hear the beautifully dulcet tones . . .

Overheard at Booth 4: An MR poem

Vastly Unknown

 

I would not call you the flower of the mountains

or the desert rose, or the child of the grassland valley
that rolls like a carpet of the sun between volcanoes.

I would call you the dandelion seed that drifts along

currents, or the seagull that dips occasionally to the ocean,
or the particle of light that crosses seven minutes of
emptiness to find my eye, and my eye alone,

I would call you the vastly unknown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Verble: Reads to me like you're channeling your inner Pablo Neruda.

 

MR: Thanks.   Myself I wuz thinkin more like I wuz channelin Gram Parsons via Chris Hillman of the Byrds-era.

 

Verble: Now that you mention it . . .