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They’re selling postcards of the hanging
They’re painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They’ve got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they’re restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation RowOpening of Desolation Row by Bob Dylan (1965)
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Ash Tree might be coming to an end:
When John Coltrane stopped doing dope—I think around 1960—his playing started getting far more piercing and soul searching. He wasn’t medicating the pain away, instead he used music to medicate it. Blogging is heroin. A quick fix of writing and response. All the energy I expend here should [...]
The publishing Web site Bowker reported that there were more new book titles sold in Great Britain last year - 206,000 new titles, an increase of 28 percent - than in the United States -172,000 new titles, a decrease of 18 percent.
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This is from Rilke’s third Sonnet to Orpheus:
. . . song is existence. Easy [...]
I’ve told this story before, but every telling leaves something wanting. Here I am having another go at it.
I think it was a Monday night. We play on Tuesdays now, but back then there was a game on a Monday. We were on table 13, which is way over in the far corner, the one [...]
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