Everybody I talk to is ready to leave
With the light of the morning
They've seen the end coming down
Long enough to believe
That they've heard their last warning
Standing alone
Each has his own ticket in his hand
And as the evening descends
I sit thinking 'bout Everyman
With the light of the morning
They've seen the end coming down
Long enough to believe
That they've heard their last warning
Standing alone
Each has his own ticket in his hand
And as the evening descends
I sit thinking 'bout Everyman
Seems like I've always been
Looking for some other place
To get it together
Where with a few of my friends
I could give up the race
And maybe find something better
But all my fine dreams
Well though out schemes
To gain the motherland
Have all eventually come down
To waiting for Everyman
Looking for some other place
To get it together
Where with a few of my friends
I could give up the race
And maybe find something better
But all my fine dreams
Well though out schemes
To gain the motherland
Have all eventually come down
To waiting for Everyman
Waiting here for Everyman
Make it on your own if you think you can
If you see somewhere to go I understand
Waiting here for Everyman
Don't ask me if he'll show, baby I don't know
Make it on your own if you think you can
If you see somewhere to go I understand
Waiting here for Everyman
Don't ask me if he'll show, baby I don't know
Make it on your own if you think you can
Somewhere later on you'll have to take a stand
Then you're going to need a hand
Somewhere later on you'll have to take a stand
Then you're going to need a hand
Everybody's just waiting to hear from the one
Who can give them the answers
And lead them back to that place
In the warmth of the sun
Where sweet childhood still dances
Who'll come along
And hold out that strong
That gentle father's hand
Long ago I heard someone say
Something 'bout Everyman
Who can give them the answers
And lead them back to that place
In the warmth of the sun
Where sweet childhood still dances
Who'll come along
And hold out that strong
That gentle father's hand
Long ago I heard someone say
Something 'bout Everyman
Waiting here for Everyman
Make it on your own
Make it if you think you can
If you see somewhere to go I understand
Make it on your own
Make it if you think you can
If you see somewhere to go I understand
I'm not trying to tell you
That I've seen the plan
Turn and walk away if you think I am
But don't think too badly
Of one who's left holding sand
He's just another dreamer
Dreaming 'bout Everyman
That I've seen the plan
Turn and walk away if you think I am
But don't think too badly
Of one who's left holding sand
He's just another dreamer
Dreaming 'bout Everyman
Yesterday evening I was driving down to SW's house when this one came up on an old Radio Sally Mix I had just uncovered, made in 2005 called Scrapple from the Apple. (I'll post the playlist at the bottom.) Maybe I am overly focussed on Covid-19 but the image of people fed up and taking off, of doing for themselves and not for the greater good quite struck me.
And right after that was The Circle Jerks' When The Shit Hits The Fan and damn if that one wasn't fitting as well.
In a sluggish economy
Inflation, recession, the land of the free
Waiting unemployment lines
Blame the Government for hard times
Inflation, recession, the land of the free
Waiting unemployment lines
Blame the Government for hard times
We just get by
However we can
We all have to duck
When the shit hits the fan
However we can
We all have to duck
When the shit hits the fan
Ten kids in a Cadillac
Stand in line for welfare checks
Let's all leech off the state
Gee! The money is really great!
Stand in line for welfare checks
Let's all leech off the state
Gee! The money is really great!
We just get by
However we can
We all have to duck
When the shit hits the fan
However we can
We all have to duck
When the shit hits the fan
Soup lines
Free loaves of bread
Five pounds blocks of cheese
Bags of groceries
Free loaves of bread
Five pounds blocks of cheese
Bags of groceries
Social security
Has run out on you and me
We do whatever we can
Gotta duck when the shit hits the fan
Has run out on you and me
We do whatever we can
Gotta duck when the shit hits the fan
We just get by
However we can
We all have to duck
When the shit hits the fan
However we can
We all have to duck
When the shit hits the fan
Soup lines
Free loaves of bread
Five pounds blocks of cheese
Bags of groceries
Free loaves of bread
Five pounds blocks of cheese
Bags of groceries
Social security
Has run out on you and me
Do whatever we can
Gotta duck when the shit hits the fan
Has run out on you and me
Do whatever we can
Gotta duck when the shit hits the fan
I think I have hit the depression layer. I woke up before the 7:30 alarm but spent the next two hours dozing and sleeping, having anxious dreams. The anxiety is compounded by my mother being anxious. Somehow, she is stuck on the fact that there is just too much for me to do around the house. You hear me talk about the backyard being a jungle, however, I am not kidding. Some of it is beautiful and some of it is not. I don't know why I have focussed so much on the front yard, perhaps because it is so much cooler out there and I see it when we come and go. From this desk, I can see poppies, and overgrown bougainvillea as well as geraniums, calendula, and dinner plate sized nasturtiums. And weeds weeds weeds weeds.
Very hard to stay the course of making progress on the inside of the house when I just want to escape (which, as my brother David would attest, is the family way). I keep thinking that when teacher training is over I will have more time to put into maintenance, but we shall see. Sometimes it is just hard doing everything myself. I would have been a terrible single mother.
April 30th
Ever find yourself with so many things to choose from that playing solitaire or watching Netflix seems like the easiest answer. I think that is going unconscious. And there may be nothing wrong with that. But there probably is.
In the annals of procrastination, I have put off writing my first 90 minute class all week. I have mentally and physically skedaddled here and there without significant forward motion except for finishing some books. Finally, I sat down and started sketching things out and doing some research, but that's another form of procrastination ... is there such a thing as positive procrastination? Must have another name.
Yesterday, I did an online class. Afterwards, I came back to my desk to see if I couldn't take some notes. Across the desk in the window sill was The Marauder Cat, aka Pogonip. He didn't look too good, as he is one beat up tom. I noticed there was a large section of cheek flap hanging down. I got up and went to confer with Janet about what to do. We agreed I should take him to a vet to see what it would take to fix him up some. Janet got her stimulus check and although we had other earmarks on it, we felt the critter deserved care.
I found a walk-in, inexpensive vet clinic not too far away. Lured by food, he went into the kitchen where Janet and I were able to capture him and get him in a cat carrier. I cruised him over to the vet. He scarcely moved and did not make a sound. At the vet's office, I could hear he was hyperventilating so they got me into a room fast. He hissed coming out of the carrier, but he did let me hold and pet him. We saw that in addition to his cheek, he had a bad bite and infection on hid leg. The vet came in, said he would fix him up. I asked him to neuter him at the same time.
Around 4, I called to see if he was ready to pick up. They said yes. Pogonip died shortly before I got there, 20 minutes later.
I didn't know what to think or how to feel, other than shock. Pogonip wasn't our cat, really, but he was part of our everyday cat world. He took his naps on the lawn furniture and begged for food. Janet, as you know, wanted to adopt him.
The cause of death was undetermined, but the vet thought that Pogonip died of stress and possibly some other underlying issues. He looked awful in death. It may be wimpy and unkind of me, but I am glad I didn't have to hold him as he transitioned to another place. As he didn't know my body, my smells, and my touch at all, it likely would not have comforted him much.
We miss him. We were/are sad.
And this morning, one of his brothers was walking around the front yard, already ready to take over the territory.
The Kermit Place Readers had a surprisingly lively conversation about Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca this evening. Afterwards, we hung around on Zoom to swap quarantine updates and commiserate about what might be next. There was not a general feeling of positivity. New York is waiting to see if the quarantine is extended, as we are here in California. It seems the height of freedom to be able to congregate in small groups with close family and friends.
WINTER FEAR
Is it just winter
or is this worse.
Is this the year
when outer damp
obscures a deeper curse
that spring can't fix,
when the gears that
turn the earth
won't shift the view,
when clouds won't lift
though all the skies
go blue.
— Kaye Ryan, The Best of It: New and Selected Poems, New York, Grove Press, 2010
April 30th
Ever find yourself with so many things to choose from that playing solitaire or watching Netflix seems like the easiest answer. I think that is going unconscious. And there may be nothing wrong with that. But there probably is.
In the annals of procrastination, I have put off writing my first 90 minute class all week. I have mentally and physically skedaddled here and there without significant forward motion except for finishing some books. Finally, I sat down and started sketching things out and doing some research, but that's another form of procrastination ... is there such a thing as positive procrastination? Must have another name.
Yesterday, I did an online class. Afterwards, I came back to my desk to see if I couldn't take some notes. Across the desk in the window sill was The Marauder Cat, aka Pogonip. He didn't look too good, as he is one beat up tom. I noticed there was a large section of cheek flap hanging down. I got up and went to confer with Janet about what to do. We agreed I should take him to a vet to see what it would take to fix him up some. Janet got her stimulus check and although we had other earmarks on it, we felt the critter deserved care.
I found a walk-in, inexpensive vet clinic not too far away. Lured by food, he went into the kitchen where Janet and I were able to capture him and get him in a cat carrier. I cruised him over to the vet. He scarcely moved and did not make a sound. At the vet's office, I could hear he was hyperventilating so they got me into a room fast. He hissed coming out of the carrier, but he did let me hold and pet him. We saw that in addition to his cheek, he had a bad bite and infection on hid leg. The vet came in, said he would fix him up. I asked him to neuter him at the same time.
Around 4, I called to see if he was ready to pick up. They said yes. Pogonip died shortly before I got there, 20 minutes later.
I didn't know what to think or how to feel, other than shock. Pogonip wasn't our cat, really, but he was part of our everyday cat world. He took his naps on the lawn furniture and begged for food. Janet, as you know, wanted to adopt him.
The cause of death was undetermined, but the vet thought that Pogonip died of stress and possibly some other underlying issues. He looked awful in death. It may be wimpy and unkind of me, but I am glad I didn't have to hold him as he transitioned to another place. As he didn't know my body, my smells, and my touch at all, it likely would not have comforted him much.
We miss him. We were/are sad.
And this morning, one of his brothers was walking around the front yard, already ready to take over the territory.
 |
| RIP Pogonip. |
The Kermit Place Readers had a surprisingly lively conversation about Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca this evening. Afterwards, we hung around on Zoom to swap quarantine updates and commiserate about what might be next. There was not a general feeling of positivity. New York is waiting to see if the quarantine is extended, as we are here in California. It seems the height of freedom to be able to congregate in small groups with close family and friends.
WINTER FEAR
Is it just winter
or is this worse.
Is this the year
when outer damp
obscures a deeper curse
that spring can't fix,
when the gears that
turn the earth
won't shift the view,
when clouds won't lift
though all the skies
go blue.
— Kaye Ryan, The Best of It: New and Selected Poems, New York, Grove Press, 2010
Radio Sally
SCRAPPLE FROM THE APPLE
February 12, 2005
(01) Dexter Gordon: Scrapple from the Apple 7:23
(Parker)
from Our Man in Paris, Blue Note, 1963
(02) Afro Celt Sound System: Dark Moon, High Tide 4:12
(Emerson/Spillane)
from Volume 1: Sound Magic, Real World, 1996
(03) Bananarama: Aie a Mwana 2:43
(Kluger/Vanguard)
from Deep Sea Skiving, London, 1983
(04) The Magnetic Fields: When You Were My Baby 2:43
(Merritt)
from The Wayward Bus, Feel Good All Over Records, 1991
(05) Phillips & Driver: Ready for Love 4:08
(Ralphs)
from Togetherness, Bar None, 2003
(06) 5 Chinese Brothers: All I Need 3:23
(Foglino)
from Singer, Songwriter Beggarman, Thief, 1-800-Prime, 1992
(07) Ray Lamontagne: Jolene 4:14
(Lamontagne)
from Trouble, RCA, 2004
(08) Gregson & Collister: I Shake 4:24
(Gregson)
from The Last Word, Rhino, 1992
(09) Robben Ford & The Blue Line: Good Thing 7:12
(Ford)
from Handful of Blues, Blue Thumb, 1995
(10) Jimmy Witherspoon, Long John Baldry, and the Duke Robillard Band: Time’s Getting’ Tougher Than Tough 6:53
(Witherspoon)
from Jimmy Witherspoon with the Duke Robillard Band, Stony Plain, 2000
(11) Van Morrison: Allow Me 3:53
(Morrison)
from Poetic Champions Compose, Warner Bros., 1987
(12) Judy Collins: Since You Asked 2:53
(Collins)
from Wildflowers, Elektra, 1967
(13) Jackson Browne & David Lindley: For Everyman 5:41
(Browne)
from Bread and Roses Festival, 1977 Vol. 1, Fantasy, 1979
(14) The Circle Jerks: When the Shit Hits the Fan 3:13
(Hetson/Morris)
from Golden Shower of Hits, Rhino,1983
(15) Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings: This Land Is Your Land 4:33
(Guthrie)
from Naturally, Daptone2005
(16) Glory Fountain: Rosary 5:28
(Blakey/Chumbris)
from The Glory of 23, LaJoy, 2001
(17) The Kingsbury Manx: Fanfare 4:41
(Kingsbury Manx)
from The Kingsbury Manx, Overcoat, 2000
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