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Tuesday, November 10, 2015

I’m back in the rain, oh, oh

Posted by Leocadia at 7:15 AM

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Faridi McFree

Healing Love

D Row

Click on Leo Sayer - Pierrott

The Show Must Go On

Deal Island

A Picture Album

Click on Caruso

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Bunny (the impersonator)

I can be summed up in one word: Me. There is no other Me in the entire Cosmos. My physical appearance is the manifestation of my mind, my heart, my spirit - with a few scrapes and bruises from experience. If you should run into someone who looks exactly like Me, make sure you ask to see some ID. I would like to be notified if you suspect that someone has been impersonating Me. Once a strange woman walked up to Me in Walmart and said, "Hi Bunny." I said, "I'm not Bunny." She said, "Are you sure? You look exactly like Her." I said, "I can prove I'm not Bunny. I'm Me, not Her. The next time you see this Bunny person, walk up to Her and say 'Hi Leo.' If she says 'I'm not Leo' you should then ask Her " Are you sure, because you look exactly like Her?" If she then says "I am not Her, I am Me" my suspicions will be confirmed. I will have solid proof that Bunny has been impersonating Me. Maybe you could wear a wire. I would really appreciate your help in this matter and I'd be willing to pay you in catnip.

Google is following me !!!

Come on people now smile on your brother everybody get together, try to love one another right now ...... When I was an alien .... Cultures weren't opinions ..... Gotta find a way, find a way, when I'm there ..... Gotta find a way, a better way .... I'd better wait .... Never met a wise man .... If so it's a woman .... Gotta find a way, find a way, when I'm there .... Gotta find a way, a better way, I'd better wait .... Just because you're paranoid .... Don’t mean they're not after you .... Gotta find a way, find a way, when I'm there .... Gotta find a way, a better way, I'd better wait .......((Territorial Pissings, Kurt Cobain )

Highway 61 - Numerology Revisited

Visions of Johanna

Common Sense

"... As is well-known, my authorship has two parts: one pseudonymous and the other signed. The pseudonymous writers are poetic creations, poetically maintained so that everything they say is in character with their poetized individualized personalities; sometimes I have carefully explained in a signed preface my own interpretation of what the pseudonym said. Anyone with just a fragment of common sense will perceive that it would be ludicrously confusing to attribute to me everything the poetized characters say.

Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, I have expressly urged that anyone who quotes something from the pseudonyms will not attribute the quotation to me (see my postscript to Concluding Postscript). It is easy to see that anyone wanting to have a literary lark merely needs to take some verbatim quotations from "The Seducer," then from Johannes Climacus, then from me, etc., print them together as if they were all my words, show how they contradict each other, and create a very chaotic impression, as if the author were a kind of lunatic.

Hurrah! That can be done. In my opinion anyone who exploits the poetic in me by quoting the writings in a confusing way is more or less a charlatan or a literary toper."

Soren Kierkegaard

Forever Young

"I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." Jesus of Nazareth

Bella

Hop on the bus, Gus

Autism - Bus Theory (Not for Snobs)

Sermons (click on image)

James Tissot, Sermon On The Mount

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

"Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! `I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time?' she said aloud. `I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think--' (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) `--yes, that's about the right distance--but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I've got to?' (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.) Presently she began again. `I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think--' (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the right word) `--but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma'am, is this New Zealand or Australia?' (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke--fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) `And what an ignorant little girl she'll think me for asking! No, it'll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.' Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. `Dinah'll miss me very much to-night, I should think!' (Dinah was the cat.) `I hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?' And here Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, `Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?' and sometimes, `Do bats eat cats?' for, you see, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, `Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?' when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over. " (Lewis Carroll)

The Icy Ninth

Poetry & Fiction - an addition, a little shed on the back of the shack, a trap door into my imagination, a rabbit hole

Ghost Tour - 444

Autobiographical Fiction

Groovy Headset

Obituarium

Cloister Cemetery in the Snow - Caspar David Friedrich

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Feed Your Head - Click picture to read "Social Graces & Party in My Head"

"The intuitive mind is a sacred gift, and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift." ~ Albert Einstein

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The Dummy

Original Fiction - Copyright with the USA Library of Congress

Blackie
You Must Tell Me Baby
Nasty Club Jewelry
Chicken Hill
What The Moon Said
My Warehouse Eyes
The Real Deal: Preface to Chronicles II
The Great Dalliance
I Can't Find U Anywhere
Wish Fish
Time
Winging It
Free Enterprise
Or So It Appears

Music

Elmer Johnson Live at the Supper Club 1993
I Want You, Springsteen at the Main Point 1975
Bruce Springsteen 10th Avenue Freeze Out

Portrait of Elizabeth Siddal, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti - 1855

In an Artist's Studio - One face looks out from all his canvases, One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans: We found her hidden just behind those screens, That mirror gave back all her loveliness. A queen in opal or in ruby dress, A nameless girl in freshest summer-green, A saint, an angel --every canvas means The same one meaning, neither more nor less. He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him, Fair as the moon and joyful as the light: Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dream - Christina Rossetti .

A Silent Wood by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal

A Silent Wood O silent wood, I enter thee With a heart so full of misery For all the voices from the tree And the ferns that cling about my knees. In thy darkest shadow let me sit When the grey owls about thee flit; There will I ask of thee a boon, That I may not faint or die or swoon. Gazing through the gloom like one Whose life and hopes are also done, Frozen like a thing of stone I sit in thy shadow – but not alone. Can God bring back the day when we two stood Beneath the clinging trees in that dark wood?

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Better Living through Beowulf

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