Hit me with a flower

Spoken word poet and novelist Maggie Estep in 1994. (Bob Berg / Getty Images / May 1, 1994)

Lou Reed

Vicious
you hit me with a flower
You do it every hour
oh, baby, you're so vicious

Vicious
you want me to hit you with a stick
But all I've got is a guitar pick
huh, baby, you're so vicious

When I watch you come
baby, I just want to run far away
You're not the kind of person around I
want to stay

When I see you walking down the street
I step on your hands and I mangle your feet
You're not the kind of person that I want to meet

Oh, baby, you're so vicious
you're just so vicious

Vicious
hey, you hit me with a flower
You do it every hour
oh, baby you're so vicious

Vicious
hey, why don't you swallow razor blades
You must think that I'm some kind of gay blade
but baby, you're so vicious

When I see you coming
I just have to run
You're not good and you certainly aren't
very much fun

When I see you walking down the street
I step on your hand and I mangle your feet
You're not the kind of person that I'd even want to meet

'Cause you're so vicious
baby, you're so vicious
Vicious, vicious
vicious, vicious
vicious, vicious

(Lou Reed)

Maggie Estep Obituary - LA Times 

 Lou-Reed obituary written by his wife

Gotta Serve Somebody

You may be an ambassador to England or France
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You might be a rock ’n’ roll addict prancing on the stage
You might have drugs at your command, women in a cage
You may be a businessman or some high-degree thief
They may call you Doctor or they may call you Chief
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You may be a state trooper, you might be a young Turk
You may be the head of some big TV network
You may be rich or poor, you may be blind or lame
You may be living in another country under another name
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You may be a construction worker working on a home
You may be living in a mansion or you might live in a dome
You might own guns and you might even own tanks
You might be somebody’s landlord, you might even own banks
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You may be a preacher with your spiritual pride
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side
You may be workin’ in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair
You may be somebody’s mistress, may be somebody’s heir
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

Might like to wear cotton, might like to wear silk
Might like to drink whiskey, might like to drink milk
You might like to eat caviar, you might like to eat bread
You may be sleeping on the floor, sleeping in a king-sized bed
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You may call me Terry, you may call me Timmy
You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy
You may call me R.J., you may call me Ray
You may call me anything but no matter what you say
You’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

 

Copyright © 1979 by Special Rider Music

Something to think about ...... or not.

Read more about artificial intelligence and it's future @  Google Director

In the Palace of The Lord

Philopappos (Φιλοπάππου) Hill, viewed from the Acropolis (Ακρόπολη).

 

Bob Dylan's summer European tour wrapped up with a pair of shows in Greece. During an off-day, Dylan and Van Morrison climbed onto the picturesque Hill of the Muses in Athens for a stunning four-song acoustic set that thankfully was captured by cameras for the BBC documentary Arena: One Irish Rover – Van Morrison in Performances. They began with Morrison classics “Crazy Love” and “And It Stoned Me,” but the clear highlight was the 1986 Morrison obscurity “Foreign Window,” featuring Dylan on harmonica and Van on guitar and vocals. They wrapped up the set with a duet on “One Irish Rover.”

Van Morrison’s Sixties garage rock band Them released a cover of Bob Dylan’s “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” in 1966, and a few years later Morrison began regularly performing “Just Like A Woman” at his solo shows. But he didn’t actually share a stage with Dylan until The Last Waltz in 1976. They teamed up for a handful of shows on Dylan’s 1984 European tour, and the very day after this stunning performance on the Hill of the Muses, Morrison came out during Dylan’s encore to perform “Crazy Love” and “And It Stoned Me.” In 1998 they finally went on an official tour together, and later in the year they were joined by Joni Mitchell. They duetted during many of those shows, but they never quite captured the intimate magic they shared that day in Greece.

One Irish Rover, with Van Morrison
Philopappos (The Hill Of The Muses)
Athens, Greece, June 27 1989

Foreign Window by Van Morrison

I saw you from a foreign window
Bearing down the sufferin' road
You were carryin' your burden
To the palace of the Lord
To the palace of the Lord

I spied you from a foreign window
When the lilacs were in bloom

And the sun shone through your window pane
To the place you kept your books
You were reading on your sofa
You were singin' every prayer
That the masters had instilled in you
Since Lord Byron loved despair
In the palace of the Lord
In the palace of the Lord

Bridge:
And if you get it right this time
You don't have to come back again
And if you get it right this time
There's no need to explain

I saw you from a foreign
Bearing down the sufferin' road
You were carryin' your burden
You were singing about Rimbaud
I was going down to Geneva
When the Kingdom had been found
I was giving you protection
From the loneliness of the crowd
In the palace of the Lord
In the palace of the Lord

They were giving you religion
Breaking bread and drinking wine
And you laid out on the green hills
Just like when you were a child
I saw you from a foreign window
You were trying to find your way back home
You were carrying your defects
Sleeping on a pallet on the floor
In the palace of the Lord
In the palace of the Lord

"I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not."

Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam. 

'Cause sunbeams are not made like me.
Don't expect me to cry 

for all the reasons you had to die. 

Don't ever ask your love of me.

Don't expect me to cry.
Don't expect me to lie.
Don't expect me to die for thee.

Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam. 'Cause sunbeams are not made like me.
Don't expect me to cry for all the reasons you had to die. Don't ever ask your
love of me.

Don't expect me to cry.
Don't expect me to lie.
Don't expect me to die for thee.

Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam. 'Cause sunbeams are not made like me.
Don't expect me to cry for all the reasons you had to die. Don't ever ask your
love of me.

Don't expect me to cry.
Don't expect me to lie.
Don't expect me to die.
Don't expect me to cry.
Don't expect me to lie.
Don't expect me to die for thee.

Bob Dyan first radio interview

 with Oscar Brand on Folk Song Festival for WNYC, October 29, 1961

---

DYLAN PERFORMS "SALLY GAL"

 BOB DYLAN:
I learned it from a farmer in South Dakota, and he played the autoharp. His name is Wilbur. Met him outside of Sioux Falls when I was there visiting... people an' him... and heard him do it...
I was looking through  a book one time, I saw the same song and I remembered the way he did it. So this is the song.

OSCAR BRAND:
Thank you, Bob Dylan, for "Sally Gal," and we expect you back before the end of tonight's "Folksong Festival."

-- BREAK IN TAPE --

OSCAR BRAND:
... return to our guest this evening. His name is Bob Dylan, and November the 4th he will be at Carnegie Chapter Hall in a very exciting concert of songs that he's collected since his first days when he was born in Minnesota. And then he went down to the Southwest, he traveled around the country with carnivals, and as we heard earlier he's collected a lot of many songs from many people.

Bob, I know that that means, when you travel that much that you hear a lot of songs. But doesn't it also mean that you forget a lot of songs that way?

BOB DYLAN:
Oh, yeah... I learned... I forgot quite a few, I guess, an' once I'd... when I forgot 'em, I usually heard the name of 'em and looked 'em up in some book an' learned 'em again.

OSCAR BRAND:
Can you read music?

BOB DYLAN:
No, I can't, but this here song's a good example. I learned it from a farmer in South Dakota, and he played the autoharp. His name is Wilbur. Met him outside of Sioux Falls when I was there visiting... people an' him... and heard him do it... I was looking through a book one time, I saw the same song and I remembered the way he did it. So this is the song.

DYLAN PERFORMS "THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND"

OSCAR BRAND:
Thank you very much, Bob Dylan. And very best of luck on your concert, November 4th, at Carnegie Chapter Hall, in which I know that, as your audience realizes, there'll be a lot of exciting material new and beautifully presented. And thanks very much Israel Young of the  Folklore Center for bringing Bob down and for sponsoring the concert he's gonna have, too.

The Tree of Happiness

 Wrote this poem 46 years ago.  It's not very good. 

Synthetic Realism

Fugue appartice

time capsule daydrems

Tuesday afternoons sipping tea

hiding out in Mimosa Grove

with no identification

deep purple halucinations

spilling all over the floor

sunshine

climbing up the walls

Thinking plastic thoughts

bleeding plastic blood

everyone celebrates Tuesday

in Mimosa Grove

even the aborigines

take the day off

to dress in ceremonial splendor

and do artificial dances

to the beat of

unbreakable make-believe drums

Imagine

the two of us

in dandelion chains

with dandelion rings

around our fingers

Imagine

the two of us

celebrating Tuesday

in Mimosa Grove

(by Leo)

Albizia - the tree of happiness

A Day Too Long

Live True

Alexandros Avranas -  a man who truly lives

 

Alexandros Avranas is a film director who recently thrilled audiences and critics with his second film "Miss Violence", winner of the International Festival of Venice.  His life and path were formed by his one and only passion: cinima.  'For me, cinema is necessary. It's no job or employment.'  Avranas chose not to take the easy road of commercial cinema, but instead to bring attention to controversial social and political issues.  Although faced with many difficulties in pursuit of what he believes is most worthy of his time and energy,  he continues to create films with passion because that is the most meaningful driving force of his life.

Born in Larissa, Greece, Alexandros Avranas made his way to Berlin, Germany to study Fine Arts at the Universität der Künste. He soon began making art through filmmaking, releasing his debut feature, “Without,” in 2008. The film, about a family’s hardships with trying to adapt in a difficult corporate world, won a total of seven awards at the 2008 Thessaloniki Film Festival, including the Greek Competition Award and Most Promising Filmmaker Award. Unfortunately, “Without” never had the chance to screen in Greek theaters outside of the Festival, but was a stepping stone for the talented director to become a recognized name in the industry, and it ultimately led him to his latest project.

Avranas’ second feature, “Miss Violence,” made big waves at this year’s Venice Film Festival. The film, a shocking story about an 11-year-old girl who commits suicide on her birthday, won the Silver Lion Best Director Award as well as the Volpi Cup Best Actor award for one of its stars, Themis Panou. It’s the latest in a series of Greek films (Lanthimos’ “Dogtooth,” Tsangari’s “Attenberg”) to put a spotlight on the country’s cinema, which has been garnering much attention on the festival circuit, most notably in the last few years.  See full interview

so you want to be a writer?

by Charles Bukowski

so you want to be a writer?

  by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.


if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16549#sthash.RVxCgfAH.dpuf

if it doesn't come bursting out of you

in spite of everything,

don't do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart and your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don't do it.

if you have to sit for hours

staring at your computer screen

or hunched over your

typewriter

searching for words,

don't do it.

if you're doing it for money or

fame,

don't do it.

if you're doing it because you want

women in your bed,

don't do it.

if you have to sit there and

rewrite it again and again,

don't do it.

if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,

don't do it.

if you're trying to write like somebody

else,

forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of

you,

then wait patiently.

if it never does roar out of you,

do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife

or your girlfriend or your boyfriend

or your parents or to anybody at all,

you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,

don't be like so many thousands of

people who call themselves writers,

don't be dull and boring and

pretentious, don't be consumed with self-

love.

the libraries of the world have

yawned themselves to

sleep

over your kind.

don't add to that.

don't do it.

unless it comes out of

your soul like a rocket,

unless being still would

drive you to madness or

suicide or murder,

don't do it.

unless the sun inside you is

burning your gut,

don't do it.

when it is truly time,

and if you have been chosen,

it will do it by

itself and it will keep on doing it

until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

so you want to be a writer?

  by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.


if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16549#sthash.RVxCgfAH.dpuf