Theme for 2014

I don't have time for flatulence and orgasms

We fill up our days and nights
We fill up the gaps in our empty little lives
But we know we are doomed
The moment we walk out the room

Freedom exists, and also the will exists; but freedom of the will does not exist, for a will that aims at its own freedom aims at the unknown.

I think I'm goin' back
To the things I learned so well in my youth
I think I'm returning to
Those days when I was young enough to know the truth
Now there are no games
To only pass the time
No more electric trains
No more trees to climb
But thinking young and growing older is no sin
And I can play the game of life to win

I can recall a time
When I wasn't ashamed to reach out to a friend
Now I think I've got
A lot more than just my toys to lend
Now there's more to do
Than watch my sailboat glide
But every day can be
A magic carpet ride
A little bit of courage is all we lack
So catch me if you can, I'm goin' back

Drinking while sleeping strangers
Unknowingly keep me company
In the hotel bar
Looking out a window that isn't there
Looking at the carpet and the chairs
Well the only words I said today are "beer" and "thank you"
Beer, thank you
Beer, thank you
Beer
Giving praise in a quiet way
Like a church
Like a church
Like a church that’s far away
I've got limitations like Marvin Gaye
Mortal joy is that way
Outside a train sings its whale song
To a long, long train long, long gone
Then silence comes back alone
High as scaffolding
'Til the wind finds something to ping
When the pinging things finds the wind
We're all looking for a body
Or a means to make one sing

Nothing is better, nothing is best
We are unhappy, we are unblessed

We are unfound, we are unseen
Nothing is coming and nothing is clean
Earth is it shaking and people have fled
and Lord, she is taking the eyes from the dead

Demonized body, exorcised mind
Pieces of kindness, exchanged in kind

Nothing is better, nothing is best
We are unhappy, we are unblessed

Mind, it is going and faith is destroyed
It's emptiness showing, God's cruelty deployed
Lovers have left, friends close their eyes
Children bereft, we all are unwise

Nothing is better, nothing is best
We are unhappy, we are unblessed

We are unhappy.

It was a great thing to be a human being. It was something tremendous. Suddenly I'm conscious of a million sensations buzzing in me like bees in a hive. Gentlemen, it was a great thing.

Favorite Songs #8

L.A.'s fine, the sun shines most the time
And the feeling is "lay back"
Palm trees grow and rents are low
But you know I keep thinkin' about
Making my way back

Well I'm New York City born and raised
But nowadays,
I'm lost between two shores
L.A.'s fine, but it ain't home
New York's home,
But it ain't mine no more

"I am"... I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair

"I am"... I cried "I am"... said I
And I am lost and I can't
Even say why
Leavin' me lonely still

Did you ever read about a frog
Who dreamed of bein' a king
And then became one
Well except for the names
And a few other changes
If you talk about me
The story's the same one

But I got an emptiness deep inside
And I've tried
But it won't let me go
And I'm not a man who likes to swear
But I never cared
For the sound of being alone

"I am"... I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair

"I am"... I cried
"I am"... said I
And I am lost and I can't
Even say why
"I am"... I said
"I am"... I cried
"I am"... I said

Until the barrel-organ stopped playing Constantia stayed before the Buddha, wondering, but not as usual, not vaguely. This time her wonder was like longing. She remembered the times she had come in here, crept out of bed in her nightgown when the moon was full, and lain on the floor with her arms outstretched, as though she was crucified. Why? The big, pale moon had made her do it. The horrible dancing figures on the carved screen had leered at her and she hadn't minded. She remembered too how, whenever they were at the seaside, she had gone off by herself and got as close to the sea as she could, and sung something, something she had made up, while she gazed all over that restless water. There had been this other life, running out, bringing things home in bags, getting things on approval, discussing them with Jug, and taking them back to get more things on approval, and arranging father's trays and trying not to annoy father. But it all seemed to have happened in a kind of tunnel. It wasn't real. It was only when she came out of the tunnel into the moonlight or by the sea or into a thunderstorm that she really felt herself. What did it mean? What was it she was always wanting? What did it all lead to? Now? Now? 

I want so to live that I work with my hands and my feeling and my brain. I want a garden, a small house, grass, animals, books, pictures, music. And out of this, the expression of this, I want to be writing . . . warm, eager, living life — to be rooted in life, to learn, to desire,to know, to feel, to think, to act.  This is what I want. And nothing less. That is what I must try for.

Sorry-Grateful

You're always sorry
You're always grateful
You're always wondering what might have been
Then she walks in

And still you're sorry
And still you're grateful
And still you wonder
And still you doubt
And she goes out

Everything's different
Nothing's changed
Only maybe slightly rearranged

You're sorry-grateful
Regretful-happy
Why look for answers
Where none occur?

You always are
What you always were
Which has nothing to do with
All to do with her

You're always sorry
You're always grateful
You hold her thinking
I'm not alone
You're still alone

You don't live for her
You do live with her
You're scared she's starting
To drift away
And scared she'll stay

Good things get better
Bad get worse
Wait, I think I meant that in reverse

You're sorry-grateful
Regretful-happy
Why look for answers
Where none occur
You'll always be
What you always were
Which has nothing to do with
All to do with her

Nothing to do with
All to do with her 

Insects were scurrying about in the shade cast by the grass, and the lawn was a huge monotonous forest of thousands of little green blades, all equal, all alike, hiding the world from each other. Anguished, she thought, "I don't want to be just another blade of grass".

I wish that every human life might be pure transparent freedom.

In itself, homosexuality is as limiting as heterosexuality: the ideal should be to be capable of loving a woman or a man; either, a human being, without feeling fear, restraint, or obligation.


It was said that I refused to grant any value to the maternal instinct and to love. This was not so. I simply asked that women should experience them truthfully and freely, whereas they often use them as excuses and take refuge in them, only to find themselves imprisoned in that refuge when those emotions have dried up in their hearts. I was accused of preaching sexual promiscuity; but at no point did I ever advise anyone to sleep with just anyone at just any time; my opinion on this subject is that all choices, agreements and refusals should be made independently of institutions, conventions and motives of self-aggrandizement; if the reasons for it are not of the same order as the act itself, then the only result can be lies, distortions and mutilations.