Muse-ings
I am lying in bed, minature laptop in hand, listening to music shared from the computer upstairs, and giving myself this impossible task of coming up with something, some set of words in the short span of an hour. 1:30am is my deadline, though it should have been an hour or two ago.
Not just something, something of meaning
I'm not really sure what I'll end up with, but here I am, though I'm not really sure where here really is.
Where art thou, o brother?
I fear not the obstackles in my path.
If I'm going to look for meaning, I guess maybe I can start with the music. The songs I'm listening to are songs I purchased from the iTunes music store last week. Lyle Lovett's Nobody Knows Me, Gladys Knight's Midnight Train to Georgia, the Outlaw's Green Grass and High Tides, Cross Canadian Ragweed's Sick and Tired, Tori Amos's remake of the Boomtown Rat's I don't Like Mondays and Third Day's You Are Mine
You shall see...oh so many startlements. I cannot tell you how long this road is going to be
I guess each has a story. I bought them in a few hours of browsing through the iTunes Music Store, something I could and do spend hours doing from time to time. It's almost like therapy. Somehow I manage to find words that say it better than I could. Sick and Tired does that pretty well. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired,
Sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Everything around you's growin' old.
The days drag on, the nights last forever,
Every day's tougher just to keep it together.
Forget everything you've ever known,
Except for home.
I'm sick and tired of this paddlin' it seems that life is giving me, or maybe I'm just giving myself.
I believe it's more a kickin' sitchee-yation
I bought Midnight Train... because it was #1 on the charts on the day I was born, on a Sunday in October in 1973. Maybe it was prophetic that I would grow to long for the road and rail.
I need to take a trip again, maybe this October, to the Grand Canyon or to Maine, taking pictures again along the way, it's been far too long.
goin' back to find
Ooh, what's left of his world,
The world he left behind
Not so long ago.
He's leaving,
On that midnight train to Georgia,
And he's goin' back
To a simpler place and time.
Leave on the train, rather than standing in the tracks.
A lot of respectable people have been hit by trains.
I guess I'm just looking for something, something to believe in again, or maybe someone Or someone to believe in me
But it was a dream made to order
South of the border
...And I hate to be alone on Sunday
And nobody knows me like my baby
Or maybe just something to be for rather than against
Something to live for.
I would like to address your general attitude of hopeless negativism, Consider the lilies of the goddamn field...
The ramblin' dreams of a rambling man. Maybe it's just late. And Monday and work calls soon.
And then the bullhorn crackles
And the captain tackles
With the problems and the how's and why's
And he can see no reasons
Cos there are no reasons
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
The dreams will come before then
Green grass and high tides forever
Castles of stone souls and glory
Lost faces say we adore you
As kings and queens bow and play for you
And days to follow after that.
You will find a fortune, though it will not be the one you seek. But first... first you must travel a long and difficult road, a road fraught with peril. Mm-hmm. You shall see thangs, wonderful to tell.... fate has vouchsafed your reward. Though the road may wind, yea, your hearts grow weary, still shall ye follow them, even unto your salvation.
Pandora and I will continue to hang
It doesn't take much for my heart to break,
And you've done for what seems a millionth time
...Then I remember, it's by your sacrifice
I can say that I am yours
And you are mine
and hope.
bonafied
Not just something, something of meaning
I'm not really sure what I'll end up with, but here I am, though I'm not really sure where here really is.
Where art thou, o brother?
I fear not the obstackles in my path.
If I'm going to look for meaning, I guess maybe I can start with the music. The songs I'm listening to are songs I purchased from the iTunes music store last week. Lyle Lovett's Nobody Knows Me, Gladys Knight's Midnight Train to Georgia, the Outlaw's Green Grass and High Tides, Cross Canadian Ragweed's Sick and Tired, Tori Amos's remake of the Boomtown Rat's I don't Like Mondays and Third Day's You Are Mine
You shall see...oh so many startlements. I cannot tell you how long this road is going to be
I guess each has a story. I bought them in a few hours of browsing through the iTunes Music Store, something I could and do spend hours doing from time to time. It's almost like therapy. Somehow I manage to find words that say it better than I could. Sick and Tired does that pretty well. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired,
Sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Everything around you's growin' old.
The days drag on, the nights last forever,
Every day's tougher just to keep it together.
Forget everything you've ever known,
Except for home.
I'm sick and tired of this paddlin' it seems that life is giving me, or maybe I'm just giving myself.
I believe it's more a kickin' sitchee-yation
I bought Midnight Train... because it was #1 on the charts on the day I was born, on a Sunday in October in 1973. Maybe it was prophetic that I would grow to long for the road and rail.
I need to take a trip again, maybe this October, to the Grand Canyon or to Maine, taking pictures again along the way, it's been far too long.
goin' back to find
Ooh, what's left of his world,
The world he left behind
Not so long ago.
He's leaving,
On that midnight train to Georgia,
And he's goin' back
To a simpler place and time.
Leave on the train, rather than standing in the tracks.
A lot of respectable people have been hit by trains.
I guess I'm just looking for something, something to believe in again, or maybe someone Or someone to believe in me
But it was a dream made to order
South of the border
...And I hate to be alone on Sunday
And nobody knows me like my baby
Or maybe just something to be for rather than against
Something to live for.
I would like to address your general attitude of hopeless negativism, Consider the lilies of the goddamn field...
The ramblin' dreams of a rambling man. Maybe it's just late. And Monday and work calls soon.
And then the bullhorn crackles
And the captain tackles
With the problems and the how's and why's
And he can see no reasons
Cos there are no reasons
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
The dreams will come before then
Green grass and high tides forever
Castles of stone souls and glory
Lost faces say we adore you
As kings and queens bow and play for you
And days to follow after that.
You will find a fortune, though it will not be the one you seek. But first... first you must travel a long and difficult road, a road fraught with peril. Mm-hmm. You shall see thangs, wonderful to tell.... fate has vouchsafed your reward. Though the road may wind, yea, your hearts grow weary, still shall ye follow them, even unto your salvation.
Pandora and I will continue to hang
It doesn't take much for my heart to break,
And you've done for what seems a millionth time
...Then I remember, it's by your sacrifice
I can say that I am yours
And you are mine
and hope.
bonafied