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Then what is the answer?– Not to be deluded by dreams.
To know that great civilizations have broken down into violence,
and their tyrants come, many times before.
When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose
the least ugly faction; these evils are essential.
To keep one’s own integrity, be merciful and uncorrupted
and not wish for evil; and not be duped
By dreams of universal justice or happiness. These dreams will
not be fulfilled.
To know this, and know that however ugly the parts appear
the whole remains beautiful. A severed hand
Is an ugly thing and man dissevered from the earth and stars
and his history… for contemplation or in fact…
Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness,
the greatest beauty is
Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty
of the universe. Love that, not man
Apart from that, or else you will share man’s pitiful confusions,
or drown in despair when his days darken.
— Robinson Jeffers
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
by Shel Silverstein
Remember ninety nine cent record bins?
JWM
I do believe I paid 99 cents for led Zeppelins first album at A&B records on Granville Street
Hey! Don’t knock Dara Puspita!
But nowhere near Java-jungly enough for me.
Now this:
Inul Daratista – Goyang Inul (Official Music Video)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWz-0l-WwKU
Dangdut is an acquired taste. So much for shadow puppets and gamelans.
I’ve no idea who the #@$% Heino is… but looks like he’s on his way to a date with Elton John. They’d have to flip a coin.
I needed that laugh.
Hades features vocoder voice warp and BASS albums on computer speakers along with boy bands on loop.
How about an Uncle Joe Brandon spoken word album reading some Chairman Mao off of a teleprompter!
A (trombone) blast from the past! 😄
“Strategy for Penetration” (whiskey, lots of whiskey)
That Karl Malden album can’t be real. Unless it was part of MK Ultra.
Svetlana Grubbersolvik can wrap her lips around my flute anytime she likes.
“Where Will I Shelter My Sheep” (in your hair)
“Marcy Tigner, trombone. With flute, harp and pipe organ.” As opposed to what, sexual orrgan?
“Strategy for Penetration” (whiskey, lots of whiskey)
That Karl Malden album can’t be real. Unless it was part of MK Ultra.
Svetlana Grubbersolvik can wrap her lips around my flute anytime she likes.
“Where Will I Shelter My Sheep” (in your hair)
“Marcy Tigner, trombone. With flute, harp and pipe organ.” As opposed to what, sexual organ?
Put all of these albums on an endless tape loop. Play it 24/7 at high volume for all those on Death Row. Every damn one of them would be dead in a week.
That was a HILARIOUS trip down the memory trail. I didn’t recognize the individual “artists” but with the beehive hairdos and unlikely ensembles (trombone, violin, harp, and pipe organ) was almost cringeworthy. Where are they now?
We started our six on illustrated story books, which they repeated page by page – babies love to do that. Eventually they would read the books to themselves outloud. All six remained avid readers, with a couple of them making a living at it. It wasn’that we were against records, we just couldn’t afford a record player until #3 or #4 came along, and by then it was too late.
“Karl Malden Reads the Speeches of Lyndon Johnson” is the most “WTF were they thinking” thing I’m likely to encounter today. Thanks…I think.
Seriously, now I wonder how many of those actually sold.
Looking at the bright side, you didn’t find any Liberace albums.
Oh can’t overlook that….
If that old sodomite Liberace were still around, he would be wishing his brother George were here, and he would be crying all the way to the bank.
That last one just about scared me off my perch. I was already real worried.
The sound of Art Linkletter unzipping his trousers….. shiver….
Holy Mother of God, Mr. V — where do you FIND this stuff?! Do you utilize some bizarro search engine that delivers you to (and through) some psychotropic wormhole?
The Mrs. Mills Come to My Party LP jacket brought instantly to mind the Hyacinth Bucket character from the Keeping Up Appearances Brit-com.