This morning there was a real hard frost on the windshield of the truck. We've had a few frosty mornings, but slowly the world is locking up in its frozen time capsule.
I turn on the truck when I take Bob out in the morning, and he stands there, he's so old, thinking he's going for a ride. We've done this a few times already this fall. His synapses aren't firing like they used to, and he depends on me more and more to tell him exactly what to do. Get up for breakfast. When he goes out to the fence line to do his business in the morning he stops dead and turns at least twice. His eyes and hearing are going, and he needs constant reassurance that I'm still there, and what he's supposed to do. It's like taking care of an old person, or rather, not a person, but an older living being. Humans, dogs, horses, cats, the aging process takes us all, and changes us. There's still a lot of life in him, he still gets excited about going out and going places, but there's a change...not bad, not good, just different. He needed care when he was a puppy, now he needs a different kind of care now that he's older.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
The Greenbush line and visionaries
Well, surprise, surprise. Ridership on the new Greenbush line exceeded expectations.
Massachusetts needs a visionary when it comes to public transportation. Here, it's the same old same old. Commuter trains run fairly constant during rush hour, but if you have to be somewhere during the afternoon, or late at night, you're standing on train platform for a long time. If I miss the 7:15 out of Boston, I wait an hour for the next train. The next train after that comes an hour and forty-five minutes later.
It seems the prevailing attitude is, no one rides the train at that time of day (or night) so we won't run the trains. But I think the answer is, run the trains and people will ride them. Give them a way to get home, and they'll spend more time in Boston, and spend more money in Boston.
Visionaries don't ask people what they want. They tell them. In 1984, if you had asked people what they wanted in a computer, no one would have said, well, I want this thing I can slide around on my desk so I can point at pictures on my computer screen. But that's exactly what Apple and Macintosh did. (No people, the Mac came long before Windows.)
Visionaries lead. No one is leading here in Boston when it comes to transportation. Like so many other things here in Boston, transporation is way behind the curve.
Massachusetts needs a visionary when it comes to public transportation. Here, it's the same old same old. Commuter trains run fairly constant during rush hour, but if you have to be somewhere during the afternoon, or late at night, you're standing on train platform for a long time. If I miss the 7:15 out of Boston, I wait an hour for the next train. The next train after that comes an hour and forty-five minutes later.
It seems the prevailing attitude is, no one rides the train at that time of day (or night) so we won't run the trains. But I think the answer is, run the trains and people will ride them. Give them a way to get home, and they'll spend more time in Boston, and spend more money in Boston.
Visionaries don't ask people what they want. They tell them. In 1984, if you had asked people what they wanted in a computer, no one would have said, well, I want this thing I can slide around on my desk so I can point at pictures on my computer screen. But that's exactly what Apple and Macintosh did. (No people, the Mac came long before Windows.)
Visionaries lead. No one is leading here in Boston when it comes to transportation. Like so many other things here in Boston, transporation is way behind the curve.
Lance needs to wear a helmet
Lance Armstrong seeing one of the Olsen twins?
He's the man, or I thought he was. He drinks PBR. He's hammers a bike like no one ever did. But man, what is it about guys and their women? (Gentle Reader, I've asked the same thing about myself in the past. Let's see, at one time there was Too Far, Too Young, and Too Racist.)
First he leaves what appears to be a super-cool wife for...Sheryl Crow. Okay, she rocks, but doesn't know squat about bicycle racing or the Tour. That was obvious in 2005 when he won his unprecedented 7th Tour and announcers Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin went ga-ga over her and interviewed her day after day.
But Ashley? (or is it Mary-Kate; I can't tell the difference.)
Lance, time to climb back in the saddle. When the gossip rags start circling, it's time to ride on the hell out of Dodge.
He's the man, or I thought he was. He drinks PBR. He's hammers a bike like no one ever did. But man, what is it about guys and their women? (Gentle Reader, I've asked the same thing about myself in the past. Let's see, at one time there was Too Far, Too Young, and Too Racist.)
First he leaves what appears to be a super-cool wife for...Sheryl Crow. Okay, she rocks, but doesn't know squat about bicycle racing or the Tour. That was obvious in 2005 when he won his unprecedented 7th Tour and announcers Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin went ga-ga over her and interviewed her day after day.
But Ashley? (or is it Mary-Kate; I can't tell the difference.)
Lance, time to climb back in the saddle. When the gossip rags start circling, it's time to ride on the hell out of Dodge.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
The Red Sox victory parade
I guess I should say something about the Red Sox World Series victory parade since it was right here in my backyard. I guess I went. Rather, I was sort of drawn to it, was standing there for awhile, then left. I went out to catch some air at lunch, and then thought I’d check out what I knew was going to be madness. But there’s this urge in us…me, at least…that wants to be part of the greater world, though more and more I know through experience that I really don’t fit into that greater world. As was the case on Tuesday.
I eased up to the crowd standing up where West Street and Tremont meet. The crowd was thick there, maybe ten people deep, but I figured the players would be up on the ducks so I’d see something when they passed. But I couldn’t handle the crowd.
There were four construction workers sitting there on the bumper of a UPS truck, and the scene was such a cliché. One big loudmouth and his three little lapdogs. The loudmouth was named, Paul and he was from Medford. Now there’s something unique to the adult male Irish population here in Boston that they add a –y or an –lie to their names. Hence, grown men who look like they’re probably suffering from such adult maladies like advanced hemorrhoids and really nasty, smelly feet call each other little boy names like Bobby or Tommy or Billy. Their “maws” probably still thump them on the heads with their index fingers when they do something wrong, like use the tablecloth for a napkin.
So this guy was Paulie, and because he was from Medford, it was said with that regionally slurring of words unique to that particular city: Puaulie, from Mefah. He brayed like mule with a speech impediment. To passing police officers, all of whom he seemed to know, young girls with whom he flirted. Everything was punctuated with this loud, horsey bray of a laugh. That pretty much set the tone for that particular corner, and I know Boston well enough now that I knew that was pretty much the tone all along the entire parade route.
When I was more in love with this city, I thought guys like him colorful. And I suppose they are, to some degree. Harmless, really, just a guy enjoying himself and the world. But he’s rooted in this city, and I’m not any more, and I feel as disconnected to him as I do about everything else around here.
Which brings me to the Sox. I am long past hero worship, or at least hero worship of sports figures. Funny, the cube in which I’m typing this right now has pictures of Lucinda Williams, Jimmy Hendrix, and Ernest Hemingway pinned to the walls. I don’t think I worship them as much as I’d like to emulate them. I don’t want to be them. I want to be me, with their qualities. So I’m long past standing on a street corner to wait for a glimpse of an overpaid entertainer, which I think all sports figures are. Manny and Schilling are the same as Michael Jackson or Mick Jagger in my mind. If I go to a game, which I rarely do because I can’t afford to, I root for the Sox, but would rather see a good game rather than a sloppy win. And I’ve long since stopped tying my self-worth to the won-loss record of any sports team.
So, the Red Sox won the World Series. Good for them. They all seemed happy. The crowd seemed happy. I was happy, too, because when I turned around there was one of my favorite bookstores right in front of me, the Brattle Bookstore, and I went in and found a birthday present for Sue.
I eased up to the crowd standing up where West Street and Tremont meet. The crowd was thick there, maybe ten people deep, but I figured the players would be up on the ducks so I’d see something when they passed. But I couldn’t handle the crowd.
There were four construction workers sitting there on the bumper of a UPS truck, and the scene was such a cliché. One big loudmouth and his three little lapdogs. The loudmouth was named, Paul and he was from Medford. Now there’s something unique to the adult male Irish population here in Boston that they add a –y or an –lie to their names. Hence, grown men who look like they’re probably suffering from such adult maladies like advanced hemorrhoids and really nasty, smelly feet call each other little boy names like Bobby or Tommy or Billy. Their “maws” probably still thump them on the heads with their index fingers when they do something wrong, like use the tablecloth for a napkin.
So this guy was Paulie, and because he was from Medford, it was said with that regionally slurring of words unique to that particular city: Puaulie, from Mefah. He brayed like mule with a speech impediment. To passing police officers, all of whom he seemed to know, young girls with whom he flirted. Everything was punctuated with this loud, horsey bray of a laugh. That pretty much set the tone for that particular corner, and I know Boston well enough now that I knew that was pretty much the tone all along the entire parade route.
When I was more in love with this city, I thought guys like him colorful. And I suppose they are, to some degree. Harmless, really, just a guy enjoying himself and the world. But he’s rooted in this city, and I’m not any more, and I feel as disconnected to him as I do about everything else around here.
Which brings me to the Sox. I am long past hero worship, or at least hero worship of sports figures. Funny, the cube in which I’m typing this right now has pictures of Lucinda Williams, Jimmy Hendrix, and Ernest Hemingway pinned to the walls. I don’t think I worship them as much as I’d like to emulate them. I don’t want to be them. I want to be me, with their qualities. So I’m long past standing on a street corner to wait for a glimpse of an overpaid entertainer, which I think all sports figures are. Manny and Schilling are the same as Michael Jackson or Mick Jagger in my mind. If I go to a game, which I rarely do because I can’t afford to, I root for the Sox, but would rather see a good game rather than a sloppy win. And I’ve long since stopped tying my self-worth to the won-loss record of any sports team.
So, the Red Sox won the World Series. Good for them. They all seemed happy. The crowd seemed happy. I was happy, too, because when I turned around there was one of my favorite bookstores right in front of me, the Brattle Bookstore, and I went in and found a birthday present for Sue.
Good things on the Framingham commuter rail
Everyone, including me, ranks on the MBTA. It's not all bad. Really. There's a conductor on the Framingham commuter line. Her name tag says her first name is Pia. She's nice and friendly and there's always a good vibe coming from her. You look her in the eye and you get a smile and a good morning. The same goes for most of the conductors on that line.
So, maybe the person, man, woman, or beast, from the MBTA, who lurks on this blog from will take note of this and maybe reward these good folks.
So, maybe the person, man, woman, or beast, from the MBTA, who lurks on this blog from will take note of this and maybe reward these good folks.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Happy Halloween/Merry Christmas
Snuck out of work to catch a breath and went over to Borders on Downtown Crossing and today being Halloween imagine what I thought when I saw Christmas trees and ornaments upstairs in the music department.
Do we have to have Christmas rammed down our throats each year sooner and sooner? Buy, buy, buy. Why? Why? Why?
Do we have to have Christmas rammed down our throats each year sooner and sooner? Buy, buy, buy. Why? Why? Why?
If You Knew What I Know
Sweet, I wish I could write like this...both lyrics and music...give it a listen.
And if you knew what I know
You wouldn't go to see her
And least of all believe her when she says that she wants you
Well you're just another puppet, she's not even keeping score
And the lazy way she cheats you leaves me cold
She'll laugh about you, my best friend, but you don't know
'Cause if you knew what I know
You wouldn't go to see her
And least of all believe her when she says that she wants you
She spends her daddy's money
And she drives her daddy's car
And what's crazy is the way you think that's style
And all the while my heart is breaking
You're not even on her mind
'Cause if you knew what I know
Babe you wouldn't leave me
You wouldn't turn away from my love it's what you said that you believed in
I say this as your friend
You'll be the poor boy in the end
And if you knew what I know
You wouldn't go to see her
And least of all believe her when she says that she wants you
Well you're just another puppet, she's not even keeping score
And the lazy way she cheats you leaves me cold
She'll laugh about you, my best friend, but you don't know
'Cause if you knew what I know
You wouldn't go to see her
And least of all believe her when she says that she wants you
She spends her daddy's money
And she drives her daddy's car
And what's crazy is the way you think that's style
And all the while my heart is breaking
You're not even on her mind
'Cause if you knew what I know
Babe you wouldn't leave me
You wouldn't turn away from my love it's what you said that you believed in
I say this as your friend
You'll be the poor boy in the end
Their Eyes Were Watching God
"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they come in on the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men."
Holy shit. The opening paragraph to Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God.
It's a book about women, an African-American woman, to be exact, and compare that paragraph to this one in chapter two:
"She was stretched on her back beneath the pear tree soaking in the alto chant of the visiting bees, the gold of the sun and the panting breath of the breeze when the inaudible voice of it all came to her. She saw a dust-bearing bee sink into the sanctum of the bloom; the thousand sister -calyxes arch to meet the love embrace and the ecstatic shiver of the tree from root to tiniest branch creaming in every blossom and frothing with delight. So this was marriage! She had been summoned to behold a revelation. Then Janie felt a pain remorseless sweet that left her limp and languid."
Well, that's a different take on things. The writing, to this point, is almost biblical, and reminds me of when I taught Sunday school, and once a year I had to take my class on a Christian retreat where I was surrounded by the most Christian zealots I had the displeasure of meeting. To get back at the sorry lot, I would sit quietly, feigning piety, reading from my bible the Songs of Solomon, some of the sexiest, most sensual words you'll ever come across.
Holy shit. The opening paragraph to Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God.
It's a book about women, an African-American woman, to be exact, and compare that paragraph to this one in chapter two:
"She was stretched on her back beneath the pear tree soaking in the alto chant of the visiting bees, the gold of the sun and the panting breath of the breeze when the inaudible voice of it all came to her. She saw a dust-bearing bee sink into the sanctum of the bloom; the thousand sister -calyxes arch to meet the love embrace and the ecstatic shiver of the tree from root to tiniest branch creaming in every blossom and frothing with delight. So this was marriage! She had been summoned to behold a revelation. Then Janie felt a pain remorseless sweet that left her limp and languid."
Well, that's a different take on things. The writing, to this point, is almost biblical, and reminds me of when I taught Sunday school, and once a year I had to take my class on a Christian retreat where I was surrounded by the most Christian zealots I had the displeasure of meeting. To get back at the sorry lot, I would sit quietly, feigning piety, reading from my bible the Songs of Solomon, some of the sexiest, most sensual words you'll ever come across.
Quiet Man
Strolling down the highway with my shoes in my hand
Don't talk much, I'm a quiet man
Beauty and silence both run deep
And I'm running like crazy
While you are asleep.
(chorus)
You got news for me
I got nothing for you
Don't pin your blues on me
Just go ahead and do
Whatever you wish to.
Last Monday nite
I saw a fight
Between Wednesday and Thursday
Over Saturday nite
Tuesday asked me what was going on
I said, "Sunday's in the meadow
And Friday's in the corn."
(chorus)
Hocus pocus maladusted
Don't you think my tears get rusted
Steady losing means you ain't using
What you really think is right.
(chorus)
Oodles of light
What a beautiful site
Both of God's eyes
Are shining tonite
Rays and beams of incredible dreams
And I am a quiet man.
Don't talk much, I'm a quiet man
Beauty and silence both run deep
And I'm running like crazy
While you are asleep.
(chorus)
You got news for me
I got nothing for you
Don't pin your blues on me
Just go ahead and do
Whatever you wish to.
Last Monday nite
I saw a fight
Between Wednesday and Thursday
Over Saturday nite
Tuesday asked me what was going on
I said, "Sunday's in the meadow
And Friday's in the corn."
(chorus)
Hocus pocus maladusted
Don't you think my tears get rusted
Steady losing means you ain't using
What you really think is right.
(chorus)
Oodles of light
What a beautiful site
Both of God's eyes
Are shining tonite
Rays and beams of incredible dreams
And I am a quiet man.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Webster's New World College Dictionary new word: grass station
The 2007 Word of the Year at Webster’s New World College Dictionary is: grass station Last year's Word of the Year was crackberry, named for the addictive quality of Blackberrys.
Grass station, a pun on "gas station," refers to a theoretical fill-up spot in the not-too-distant future; it reflects America's growing love affair with hybrid cars and vegetable-based fuels (and words), including ethanol and biomass fuels—some of which really are distilled from plain old grass—said Webster’s New World editors.
I too have a new word that I think I should pass on to the editors at Webster's New World: Disneyfication. It describes the process of making Americans believe that there is no danger in the world, just the way life is in Disney World. Disneyfication resolves people of all responsibility in protecting themselves in the real world because they are under the notion that some larger entity with big ears is watching over them. Even more so, it causes people to be irate if someone or something doesn’t look out for them, even in situations where one would think that common sense would come into play.
Because of Disneyfication, people act as if the bears in national parks don’t bite, because in their minds the bears are really just big, playful singing animals. A cup of hot coffee doesn’t burn because they believe some larger corporate entity has taken pains to ensure that the coffee is the perfect temperature for sipping, and not burning.
Unfortunately, Disneyfication can sometimes lead to accidents, because in reality there really is no big entity with ears looking over you, you big moron! Despite this fact, when accidents do happen, people and lawyers and judges still act under the premise that the world really is like Disney World. Instead of gently chiding people for trying to pet the wild animal with big teeth, or for stupidly placing a hot cup of liquid between their legs in a moving car, they perpetuate Disneyfication by rewarding people with large sums of money for being delusional.
Grass station, a pun on "gas station," refers to a theoretical fill-up spot in the not-too-distant future; it reflects America's growing love affair with hybrid cars and vegetable-based fuels (and words), including ethanol and biomass fuels—some of which really are distilled from plain old grass—said Webster’s New World editors.
I too have a new word that I think I should pass on to the editors at Webster's New World: Disneyfication. It describes the process of making Americans believe that there is no danger in the world, just the way life is in Disney World. Disneyfication resolves people of all responsibility in protecting themselves in the real world because they are under the notion that some larger entity with big ears is watching over them. Even more so, it causes people to be irate if someone or something doesn’t look out for them, even in situations where one would think that common sense would come into play.
Because of Disneyfication, people act as if the bears in national parks don’t bite, because in their minds the bears are really just big, playful singing animals. A cup of hot coffee doesn’t burn because they believe some larger corporate entity has taken pains to ensure that the coffee is the perfect temperature for sipping, and not burning.
Unfortunately, Disneyfication can sometimes lead to accidents, because in reality there really is no big entity with ears looking over you, you big moron! Despite this fact, when accidents do happen, people and lawyers and judges still act under the premise that the world really is like Disney World. Instead of gently chiding people for trying to pet the wild animal with big teeth, or for stupidly placing a hot cup of liquid between their legs in a moving car, they perpetuate Disneyfication by rewarding people with large sums of money for being delusional.
Please Don't Bury Me
Woke up this morning
Put on my slippers
Walked in the kitchen and died
And oh what a feeling!
When my soul
Went thru the ceiling
And on up into heaven I did ride
When I got there they did say
John, it happened this way
You slipped upon the floor
And hit your head
And all the angels say
Just before you passed away
These were the very last words
That you said:
Chorus:
Please don't bury me
Down in that cold cold ground
No, I'd druther have "em" cut me up
And pass me all around
Throw my brain in a hurricane
And the blind can have my eyes
And the deaf can take both of my ears
If they don't mind the size
Give my stomach to Milwaukee
If they run out of beer
Put my socks in a cedar box
Just get "em" out of here
Venus de Milo can have my arms
Look out! I've got your nose
Sell my heart to the junkman
And give my love to Rose
Repeat Chorus
Give my feet to the footloose
Careless, fancy free
Give my knees to the needy
Don't pull that stuff on me
Hand me down my walking cane
It's a sin to tell a lie
Send my mouth way down south
And kiss my ass goodbye
Repeat Chorus
Put on my slippers
Walked in the kitchen and died
And oh what a feeling!
When my soul
Went thru the ceiling
And on up into heaven I did ride
When I got there they did say
John, it happened this way
You slipped upon the floor
And hit your head
And all the angels say
Just before you passed away
These were the very last words
That you said:
Chorus:
Please don't bury me
Down in that cold cold ground
No, I'd druther have "em" cut me up
And pass me all around
Throw my brain in a hurricane
And the blind can have my eyes
And the deaf can take both of my ears
If they don't mind the size
Give my stomach to Milwaukee
If they run out of beer
Put my socks in a cedar box
Just get "em" out of here
Venus de Milo can have my arms
Look out! I've got your nose
Sell my heart to the junkman
And give my love to Rose
Repeat Chorus
Give my feet to the footloose
Careless, fancy free
Give my knees to the needy
Don't pull that stuff on me
Hand me down my walking cane
It's a sin to tell a lie
Send my mouth way down south
And kiss my ass goodbye
Repeat Chorus
Friday, October 26, 2007
I'm just tired...
Sometimes I get so damn tired. I get so tired of people who are clueless who should know better. Who are so insensitive or worse, callous, to the heartache and suffering that can go on in this world. I'm so tired of the entitled, well-off in this country who never had to struggle in their lives, who had everything handed to them, who judge the rest of the world from inside their air-conditioned bubbles, acting so all-knowing. Don't judge the hungry unless you've been hungry. The homeless until at least your home was in jeopardy. The poor until you've woken up not knowing how you were going to pay your bills. Until you've had to hide your poverty, your hunger, or your pain.
I'm sick and tired of people who ruin other people's lives (especially those who are conscious that they do it) and then just cut and run, leaving others to pick up the pieces.
I am so tired of coddling people. I'm so sorry you weren't hugged enough when you were a child. I'm so sorry you had it so bad. That's no excuse. It's terrible, but it's no excuse to go around hurting people and ruining other people's lives.
We're all connected on this planet, and just because some people are too damn stupid to see that, to understand, doesn't make it any less true. Ignorance is not an excuse.
I'm sick and tired of people who ruin other people's lives (especially those who are conscious that they do it) and then just cut and run, leaving others to pick up the pieces.
I am so tired of coddling people. I'm so sorry you weren't hugged enough when you were a child. I'm so sorry you had it so bad. That's no excuse. It's terrible, but it's no excuse to go around hurting people and ruining other people's lives.
We're all connected on this planet, and just because some people are too damn stupid to see that, to understand, doesn't make it any less true. Ignorance is not an excuse.
Ignorance is no excuse
Ignorance is no excuse.
And that's all I have to say on that right now.
But those words apply to just about every endeavor we do.
And that's all I have to say on that right now.
But those words apply to just about every endeavor we do.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Inspiration
Sue told me about this kid she met who lives in a shelter in Roslindale. He's from Africa, and he's from a big family. He was in line to inherit the family wealth, so one of his brothers set him on fire. (His brother is now serving time in prison.) This kid is here in the U.S. for the multitude of operations to put his body back together. He's learning English, living in shelters, and doing menial work to make ends meet.
People avoid him on the bus.
They stare.
Remember this when you think you're having a bad day.
People avoid him on the bus.
They stare.
Remember this when you think you're having a bad day.
He said/she said
He said:
The Wild Side of Life
CHORUS:
I didn't know God made honky tonk angels
I might have known you'd never make a wife
You gave up the only one that ever loved you
And went back to the wild side of life
The glamor of the gay night life has lured you
To the places where the wine and liquor flows
Where you wait to be anybody's baby
And forget the truest love you'll ever know
REPEAT CHORUS
You wouldn't read the letter that I wrote you
You told me not to call you on the phone
But there's something that I've just got to tell you
So I wrote it in the words of this song
CHORUS:
I didn't know God made honky tonk angels
I might have known you'd never make a wife
You gave up the only one that ever loved you
And went back to the wild side of life
The glamor of the gay night life has lured you
To the places where the wine and liquor flow
Where you wait to be anybody's baby
And forgot the truest love you'll ever know
She said:
It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels
Written by J. D. Miller
Recorded by Kitty Wells
Capo on 1st fret:
As I [A] sit here tonight the jukebox [D] playing
A [E] tune about the WILD SIDE OF [A] LIFE
As I listen to the words you are [D] saying
It brings [E] mem'ries when I was a trusting [A] wife.
CHORUS:
It wasn't God who made honky tonk [D] angels
As you [E] said in the words of your [A] song
Too many times married men think they're still [D] single
That has [E] caused many a good girl to go [A] wrong.
It's a shame that all the blame is on us women
It's not true that only you men feel the same
From the start most every heart that's ever broken
Was because there always was a man to blame.
REPEAT CHORUS
The Wild Side of Life
CHORUS:
I didn't know God made honky tonk angels
I might have known you'd never make a wife
You gave up the only one that ever loved you
And went back to the wild side of life
The glamor of the gay night life has lured you
To the places where the wine and liquor flows
Where you wait to be anybody's baby
And forget the truest love you'll ever know
REPEAT CHORUS
You wouldn't read the letter that I wrote you
You told me not to call you on the phone
But there's something that I've just got to tell you
So I wrote it in the words of this song
CHORUS:
I didn't know God made honky tonk angels
I might have known you'd never make a wife
You gave up the only one that ever loved you
And went back to the wild side of life
The glamor of the gay night life has lured you
To the places where the wine and liquor flow
Where you wait to be anybody's baby
And forgot the truest love you'll ever know
She said:
It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels
Written by J. D. Miller
Recorded by Kitty Wells
Capo on 1st fret:
As I [A] sit here tonight the jukebox [D] playing
A [E] tune about the WILD SIDE OF [A] LIFE
As I listen to the words you are [D] saying
It brings [E] mem'ries when I was a trusting [A] wife.
CHORUS:
It wasn't God who made honky tonk [D] angels
As you [E] said in the words of your [A] song
Too many times married men think they're still [D] single
That has [E] caused many a good girl to go [A] wrong.
It's a shame that all the blame is on us women
It's not true that only you men feel the same
From the start most every heart that's ever broken
Was because there always was a man to blame.
REPEAT CHORUS
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Road
"When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him. Nights dark beyond darkness and days more gray each one than what had gone before. Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world. His hand rose and fell with each precious breath. He pushed away the plastic tarpaulin and raised himself in the stinking robes and blankets and looked toward the east for any light but there was none."
Wow. Those are the opening lines of The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I needed a good book. I just finished Into the Wild, and when my days are kind of gray the way they have been for what seems like a long time now, I need something to preoccupy my mind. To take it far, far away from here. And since I can't bring a guitar on the train for the two hours I'm riding it, that means a book.
Still, there's something very hopeful about those lines, huh? About him feeling the child breathing next to him. Maybe you have to be a parent to feel that. Once I wrote the line, "When my daughter sleeps, the warmth that comes off her head could breathe the life back into a dead man."
Because it did.
Wow. Those are the opening lines of The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I needed a good book. I just finished Into the Wild, and when my days are kind of gray the way they have been for what seems like a long time now, I need something to preoccupy my mind. To take it far, far away from here. And since I can't bring a guitar on the train for the two hours I'm riding it, that means a book.
Still, there's something very hopeful about those lines, huh? About him feeling the child breathing next to him. Maybe you have to be a parent to feel that. Once I wrote the line, "When my daughter sleeps, the warmth that comes off her head could breathe the life back into a dead man."
Because it did.
Monday Afternoon
MONDAY AFTERNOON
Capo II
Intro: (G)
(G)It's Monday afternoon and I'm drinking again
And I (Em)know I promised you that the Lord would be my friend
But the (G)Lord and I don't get along so very good
He doesn't (Em)speak a word out to me
Like you promised that he would
And I'm (C)telling you I (D)wish I was a better (G)person
(G)When the clouds roll in and the sky promises rain
You just ac(Em)cept the way she is and you don't even complain
Though you (G)wish that it was sunny and the sky would stay blue
You don't ac(Em)cept a thing about me
And wish that I was just like you
But I'm (C)telling you
I (D)wish I was a better (G)person
(C)I don't want to (G)work at it
(C)It should come natural(G)ly
(C)It shouldn't be so (G)difficult
Should be (D)more like honey to the bee
Well the (G)bee has his sting and the sky has her rain
And I have (Em)all of my things that I should do over again
But if I (G)just say the words and I look you in the eye
That I am (Em)promising you, I promise
I (C)wish I was (D)a better (G)person
(C)I don't want to (G)work at it
(C)It should come natural(G)ly
(C)It shouldn't be so (G)difficult
Should be (D)more like honey to the bee
Well it's (G)Monday afternoon and I'm drinking again
And I (Em)know I promised you that the Lord would be my friend
But the (G)Lord and I don't get along so very good
He doesn't (Em)speak a word out to me
Like you promised that he would
And I'm (C)telling you (D)
I am (C)telling you (D)
I am (C)telling you
I (D)wish I was a better (G)person
A better (Em) person
A better (G) person
A better (Em)person (C)(D)(G)
--Lori McKenna
Capo II
Intro: (G)
(G)It's Monday afternoon and I'm drinking again
And I (Em)know I promised you that the Lord would be my friend
But the (G)Lord and I don't get along so very good
He doesn't (Em)speak a word out to me
Like you promised that he would
And I'm (C)telling you I (D)wish I was a better (G)person
(G)When the clouds roll in and the sky promises rain
You just ac(Em)cept the way she is and you don't even complain
Though you (G)wish that it was sunny and the sky would stay blue
You don't ac(Em)cept a thing about me
And wish that I was just like you
But I'm (C)telling you
I (D)wish I was a better (G)person
(C)I don't want to (G)work at it
(C)It should come natural(G)ly
(C)It shouldn't be so (G)difficult
Should be (D)more like honey to the bee
Well the (G)bee has his sting and the sky has her rain
And I have (Em)all of my things that I should do over again
But if I (G)just say the words and I look you in the eye
That I am (Em)promising you, I promise
I (C)wish I was (D)a better (G)person
(C)I don't want to (G)work at it
(C)It should come natural(G)ly
(C)It shouldn't be so (G)difficult
Should be (D)more like honey to the bee
Well it's (G)Monday afternoon and I'm drinking again
And I (Em)know I promised you that the Lord would be my friend
But the (G)Lord and I don't get along so very good
He doesn't (Em)speak a word out to me
Like you promised that he would
And I'm (C)telling you (D)
I am (C)telling you (D)
I am (C)telling you
I (D)wish I was a better (G)person
A better (Em) person
A better (G) person
A better (Em)person (C)(D)(G)
--Lori McKenna
One from Colleen: Luckenbach, Texas
Here's a comment from Colleen on a older post where I posted some lyrics from Steve Earle's song, Guitar Town. These are some great lyrics that shouldn't be buried in the comments of an old post.
Thanks Colleen, and good luck.
Great song John. How about this one by
Waylon Jennings?
There only two things in life that make it worth livin'
That's guitars that tune good and firm feelin' women
I don't need my name in the marquis lights
I got my song and I got you with me tonight
Maybe it's time we got back to the basics of love
Chorus:
Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys
This successful life we're livin' got us fueding
like the Hatfield and McCoys
Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry's train songs
and blue eyes cryin' in the rain out in Luckenbach Texas
ain't nobody feelin' no pain
So baby let's sell your diamond ring
Buy some boots and faded jeans and go away
This coat and tie is choking me
In your high socitey you cry all day
We've been so busy keepin' up with the Jones
Four car garage and we're still building on
Maby it's time we got back to the basics of love
Chorus:
Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys
This successful life we're livin' got us fueding
like the Hatfield and McCoys
Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry's train songs
and blue eyes cryin' in the rain out in Luckenbach Texas
ain't nobody feelin' no pain
Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys
This successful life we're livin' got us fueding
like the Hatfield and McCoys
Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry's train songs
and blue eyes cryin' in the rain out in Luckenbach Texas
ain't nobody feelin' no pain
Colleen in Austin TX
Thanks Colleen, and good luck.
Great song John. How about this one by
Waylon Jennings?
There only two things in life that make it worth livin'
That's guitars that tune good and firm feelin' women
I don't need my name in the marquis lights
I got my song and I got you with me tonight
Maybe it's time we got back to the basics of love
Chorus:
Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys
This successful life we're livin' got us fueding
like the Hatfield and McCoys
Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry's train songs
and blue eyes cryin' in the rain out in Luckenbach Texas
ain't nobody feelin' no pain
So baby let's sell your diamond ring
Buy some boots and faded jeans and go away
This coat and tie is choking me
In your high socitey you cry all day
We've been so busy keepin' up with the Jones
Four car garage and we're still building on
Maby it's time we got back to the basics of love
Chorus:
Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys
This successful life we're livin' got us fueding
like the Hatfield and McCoys
Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry's train songs
and blue eyes cryin' in the rain out in Luckenbach Texas
ain't nobody feelin' no pain
Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys
This successful life we're livin' got us fueding
like the Hatfield and McCoys
Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry's train songs
and blue eyes cryin' in the rain out in Luckenbach Texas
ain't nobody feelin' no pain
Colleen in Austin TX
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