Sunday, December 07, 2008

It's time to post this again. It's meaningful in my life.

Song For A Winter's Night
as sung by Sarah McLachlan

[Written and first sung by Gordon Lightfoot in 1975]

The lamp is burnin' low upon my table top
The snow is softly fallin'
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly callin'

If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon the page
The words of love you sent me

If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin'
The mornin' light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin'

If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
And to be once again with with you
To be once again with with you

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Monday, August 18, 2008

Who doesn't love Emmylou?!

Evangeline
by Emmylou Harris

She stands on the banks of the mighty Mississippi
Alone in the pale moonlight
Waitin' for a man, a riverboat gambler
Said that he'd return tonight

They used to waltz on the banks of the mighty Mississippi
Lovin' the whole night through
He was a riverboat gambler off to make a killin'
And bring it on back to you

Evangeline, Evangeline
Curses the soul of the Mississippi Queen
That pulled her man away

Bayou Sam from South Louisian'
Had gamblin' in his veins
Evangeline from the maritime
Was slowly goin' insane

High on the top of a Hickory Hill
She stands in the lightning and thunder
Down on the river the boat was a sinkin'
She watched that Queen go under

Evangeline, Evangeline
Curses the soul of the Mississippi Queen
That pulled her man away

Evangeline, Evangeline
Curses the soul of the Mississippi Queen
That pulled her man away

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Dark Horse
by Amanda Marshall

Indian summer
Abilene
You were new in town
I was nineteen
And sparks flew
They called us crazy
Behind our backs
"Romantic fools"
We just let them laugh
Because we knew
It may be a long shot
It may get lonely down the line
But love knows no reason
And I won't let them make up my mind

My money's riding on this dark horse, baby
My heart is sayin' it's the lucky one
And it's true color's gonna shine through someday
If we let this
Let this dark horse run

Stars are brighter
In a desert sky
No need to wonder
Or justify
Where this will lead
I wear your locket
Our picture's inside
Inscription says, "The joy's in the ride"
And I believe
Something so sacred
Is something worth this kind of fight
Cause love knows no patience
You can't please everyone all the time

My money's riding on this dark horse, baby
My heart is sayin' it's the lucky one
And it's true color's gonna shine through someday
If we let this
Let this dark horse run

So rare
So sweet
Together baby
We can be free

My love is riding on this dark horse, baby
My heart is sayin' it's the lucky one
And it's true color's gonna shine through someday
If we let this
Let it run baby
My money's riding on this dark horse, baby
My heart is sayin' it's the lucky one
And it's true color's gonna shine through someday
If we let this
Let this dark horse run
Indian Summer
Abiline
You were new in town
I was nineteen

Monday, August 04, 2008

What is this self inside us, this silent observer, Severe and speechless critic, who can terrorize us, And urge us on to futile activity, And in the end, judge us still more severely, For the errors into which his own reproaches drove us?
- T. S. Eliot

Self-acceptance is my refusal to be in an adversarial relationship to myself.
- Nathaniel Branden

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Little Problems, Little Lies
by Ann Wilson

I come down from Ft. Lewis
First time PFC
And kicking in these doorways
Ain't natural to me

But now I got my orders
That evil lives inside
Hate the sin and kill the sinner
And do it all with pride

Here I lie a'bleedin'
In a bombed out SUV
No more cell reception
No more light to see

Screaming hopeless questions
Dreaming 'bout my home
Till the chopper comes from heaven
To gather up my bones

I'm standing on a ledge
Out here on the edge
The moon is hanging high
It fills my dying eyes

Little problems, little lies

And all the young dudes fighting
So far away from home
Some are unsung heroes
Some are made of stone
Some of them are broken
The broken places strong
Some of them are crazy
Their innocence is gone

Standing on a ledge
Out here on the edge
The moon is hanging high
And it fills my dying eyes

Little problems, little lies

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.
- Gustave Flaubert

Sunday, May 18, 2008

New York City

  • Caught in the rain with no keys, no map, no jackets, no umbrella.
  • The droopy-breasted woman.
  • Pigeon impressions and murderous intentions.
  • Discerning the cat's litterbox activities.
  • Unintelligible cab drivers.
  • The chain-smoking boy-woman who wanted a kiss.
  • Loud admonitions to love wives and respect husbands.
  • The pizza Nazi.
  • Friday, May 09, 2008

    I feel like I just got drunk and ran through a paint factory.

    (I didn't.)
    My favourite children's bookstore, Imagine That!, is going to be closing at the end of June.

    I think I might actually be inconsolable.

    Thursday, May 01, 2008

    Wasn't my love affair with the guitar supposed to happen when I was like 12?

    Friday, April 18, 2008

    I really can't help but love this song.

    Gunpowder & Lead
    by Miranda Lambert

    County road 233, under my feet
    Nothin' on this white rock but little ol' me
    I've got two miles till, he makes bail
    And if I'm right we're headed straight for hell

    I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun
    Wait by the door and light a cigarette
    He wants a fight well now he's got one
    And he ain't seen me crazy yet
    He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
    Don't that sound like a real man
    I'm gonna show him what little girls are made of
    Gunpowder and lead

    It's half past ten, another six pack in
    And I can feel the rumble like a cold black wind
    He pulls in the drive, the gravel flies
    He don't know what's waitin' here this time

    I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun
    Wait by the door and light a cigarette
    He wants a fight well now he's got one
    And he ain't seen me crazy yet
    He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
    Don't that sound like a real man
    I'm gonna show him what little girls are made of
    Gunpowder and lead

    His fist is big but my gun's bigger
    He'll find out when I pull the trigger

    I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun
    Wait by the door and light a cigarette
    He wants a fight well now he's got one
    And he ain't seen me crazy yet
    He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
    Don't that sound like a real man
    I'm gonna show him what little girls are made of
    Gunpowder and lead

    Friday, April 11, 2008

    If there is a God, then surely I will somehow acquire tickets to Stagecoach even though I'm poor. Right? ;)

    Tuesday, April 01, 2008

    Those jerks at Google get me every time! Every time!

    Sunday, March 23, 2008

    I have now collected enough data to know that travel is really, really good for me.

    Sunday, March 09, 2008

    Woah. Postcards from the Edge was just one massive surprise after another!

    Monday, March 03, 2008

    Doesn't love always begin that way? With the illusion being more real than the woman?
    - Captain Jean-Luc Picard to Commander Riker, in "11001001", Season 1, Star Trek: The Next Generation

    Wednesday, February 27, 2008

    This remains one of my favourite short poems.

    Forgetting

    Forgetting takes space.
    Forgotten matters displace
    as much anything else as
    anything else. We must
    skirt unlabeled crates
    as though it makes sense
    and take them when we go
    to other states.


    - Kay Ryan

    Monday, January 28, 2008

    We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and 'slipped the surly bonds of earth' to 'touch the face of God.'
    - from President Reagan's address the night of January 28, 1986, quoting the poem High Flight by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
    The destinyyyyyyyy...
    - Pere

    Silly Spanish romanticism. :D