I'd like to meet:
Wednesday Night = Mutiny @ The Casba
Thursday Night = $1 New Castle @ The Mineshaft
Saturday Night = Punk Rock Night @ The Melody Inn
Sunday Afternoon = $.50 PBR @ Hoghead's BBQ
Any Night = Getting Wasted @ The Alley Cat Lounge
Books:
"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."
"'Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,' he told me, 'just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.'"
"WAR IS PEACE
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH"
"Whereas the personal unconscious consists for the most part of 'complexes', the content of the collective unconscious is made up essentially of 'archetypes'."
"Law, morality, religion, are to him so many bourgeois prejudices, behind which lurk in ambush just as many bourgeois interests."
"Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and...Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do."
"Moderation? It's mediocrity, fear, and confusion in disguise. It's the devil's dilemma. It's neither doing nor not doing. It's the wobbling compromise that makes no one happy. Moderation is for the bland, the apologetic, for the fence-sitters of the world afraid to take a stand. It's for those afraid to laugh or cry, for those afraid to live or die. Moderation...is lukewarm tea, the devil's own brew."
"In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, in the expert's there are few."
"Ignorance...is not just a lack of knowledge-it is an active misapprehension of the nature of things. It mistakenly assumes that people and things exist in and of themselves, by way of their own nature."
Heroes:
me and Faulkner
sure, I know that you are tired of hearing about it, but
most repeat the same theme over and over again, it's
as if they were trying to refine what seems so strange
and off and important to them, it's done by everybody
because everybody is of a different stripe and form
and each must work out what is before them
over and over again because
that is their personal tiny miracle
their bit of luck
like now as like before and before I have been slowly
drinking this fine red wine and listening to symphony after
symphony from this black radio to my left
some symphonies remind me of certain cities and certain rooms,
make me realize that certain people now long dead were able to
transgress graveyards
and traps and cages and bones and limbs
people who broke through with joy and madness and with
insurmountable force
in tiny rented rooms I was struck by miracles
and even now after decades of listening I still am able to hear
a new work never heard before that is totally
bright, a fresh-blazing sun
there are countless sub-stratas of rising surprise from the
human firmament
music has an expansive and endless flow of ungodly
exploration
writers are confined to the limit of sight and feeling upon the
page while musicians leap into unrestricted immensity
right now it's just old Tchaikowsky moaning and groaning his
way through symphony #5
but it's just as good as when I first heard it
I haven't heard one of my favorites, Eric Coates, for some time
but I know that if I keep drinking the good red and listening
that he will be along
there are others, many others
and so
this is just another poem about drinking and listening to
music
repeat, right?
but look at Faulkner, he not only said the same thing over and
over but he said the same
place
so, please, let me boost these giants of our lives
once more: the classical composers of our time and
of times past
it has kept the rope from my throat
maybe it will loosen
yours
