Today's Forecast: Lovesick with a chance of creative fusion
So. I could say alot of really cliche' things, but look. I had a great time.
On my way back to Michigan I wrote this at a bus station at about two in the morning or something. I was sad and that's more or less what it's all about.
Chicago Stole She (Heart-Pain-Sickness)
Chicago stole she my love
Chicago stole she my name
Chicago stole she the road I was on
And left me with nothing to blame
Still waiting in a port of call in the dust of all the wander broke
Away from my sunshine, and my warm rain, and the girl I remember to hold
But I have a long gray chair for nobody at all
Alone: my pack and me
And where all of this is heading now
Well, neither of us can say we believe
Chicago stole she my heart
Chicago stole she my pain
Chicago stole she my sickness
And left just the fever again
A woman's pale eyes sweep the black off the horizon
In the dark she has learned to call her home
And the way her jaw clamps as we hit every ramp
Tells she's angry now, she's no longer young
And the man who steers this rickety ship
Always wanted to learn himself to fly
But he's taking this boat back and forth oer' death's river
On the sunless shore, and it's passing the time
(ch)Your hooks are inside me now, sweeter even than your lips
Oh and what I want is right where I can't go,
"Turn around! Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!"
Chicago
A man in a cap about eighty and three says
he'd put his hands back on the wheel
The way it was back when he could always just ride
Without brakes, through a cloud of unknowing and real
But the captain knows better that fleeting desire
Sees without eyes the whole merciless void
And stands to the sky, ancient compass up high
And with no stars still finds us the way
CH
Some john deere sage of the concrete temple
murmurs wisdom behind my seat as if through a veil
Telling how he taught all his daughters to love,
and taught them the hardest thing about love's the time
Chicago stole she my love, Chigago stole she my name...
And a man is never sposed' to cry. But if he don't love, aint' a man ever can.
Yeah the hardest thing about the loving's the time.
Lord he was right, he was right.
Turn around, turn around, turn around,
chicago!
Chicago stole she my heart-pain-sickness,
and left just the fever again.
On my way back to Michigan I wrote this at a bus station at about two in the morning or something. I was sad and that's more or less what it's all about.
Chicago Stole She (Heart-Pain-Sickness)
Chicago stole she my love
Chicago stole she my name
Chicago stole she the road I was on
And left me with nothing to blame
Still waiting in a port of call in the dust of all the wander broke
Away from my sunshine, and my warm rain, and the girl I remember to hold
But I have a long gray chair for nobody at all
Alone: my pack and me
And where all of this is heading now
Well, neither of us can say we believe
Chicago stole she my heart
Chicago stole she my pain
Chicago stole she my sickness
And left just the fever again
A woman's pale eyes sweep the black off the horizon
In the dark she has learned to call her home
And the way her jaw clamps as we hit every ramp
Tells she's angry now, she's no longer young
And the man who steers this rickety ship
Always wanted to learn himself to fly
But he's taking this boat back and forth oer' death's river
On the sunless shore, and it's passing the time
(ch)Your hooks are inside me now, sweeter even than your lips
Oh and what I want is right where I can't go,
"Turn around! Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!"
Chicago
A man in a cap about eighty and three says
he'd put his hands back on the wheel
The way it was back when he could always just ride
Without brakes, through a cloud of unknowing and real
But the captain knows better that fleeting desire
Sees without eyes the whole merciless void
And stands to the sky, ancient compass up high
And with no stars still finds us the way
CH
Some john deere sage of the concrete temple
murmurs wisdom behind my seat as if through a veil
Telling how he taught all his daughters to love,
and taught them the hardest thing about love's the time
Chicago stole she my love, Chigago stole she my name...
And a man is never sposed' to cry. But if he don't love, aint' a man ever can.
Yeah the hardest thing about the loving's the time.
Lord he was right, he was right.
Turn around, turn around, turn around,
chicago!
Chicago stole she my heart-pain-sickness,
and left just the fever again.
posted by 'Connell at 11:05 AM
4 Comments:
I'm glad something good came out of this week. I guess two good things. You're a real luck charm, man. Call me. I passed.
Wow. WOW. That's... welp, I guess everything worked out! Amazing. A great story.
Hey, I'm writing a novel. It's the sort of thing I'd like your help on at least in the realm of editing, flow, plot clarity. I'm calling it Train of Souls.
It's post-apocalyptic. I think I told you about the dream that inspired it. The apocalypse happens, but no one is raptured. Instead, the Train of Souls appears. Anyway, it combines a lot of elements I think, but mostly it is a story about finding purpose and how one copes with global devastation. There will be action and violence, but I would look at it as a more of a re-evaluation of the species woven between mimetic violence through the eyes of a once feral child.
I think I told you that the dream was a weird combination of Miyazaki's "Spirited Away" and the Bob Dylan movie "Masked and Anonymous." However, I'm working from several other sources: Anime cyberpunk movies (Akira, Winds of Amnesia, et al.), John Climacus's "Ladder of Divine Ascent," "Last and First Men" (Olaf Stapledon), 28 Days Later, and what I know about the Rwanda events of the last decade.
The first chapter (rough draft) is here: www.xanga.com/hazmatrodriguez
with the long night behind you
and a long day to go
tall trees and summer's eves
waiting
for you to know
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