Archive Page 2

don’t leave me high…..


the radio can be like some mandala, like a wheel of aural fortune that points to something bubbling under the surface of your mind. like that compass in “pirates of the caribbean” whose polar north is your innermost desire.

yesterday, i heard a song i thought i must have dreamed up, it sounded so familiar. i knew the melody, without knowing the words – i knew the idea. it was like standing in a room filled with mist, and the mist cleared, and the edges of things surfaced and thier colors kind of dawned on me, and the song was

radiohead’s “high and dry”

performed by jorge drexler

Two jumps in a week, I bet you think that’s pretty clever don’t you boy.
Flying on your motorcycle, watching all the ground beneath you drop.
You’d kill yourself for recognition; kill yourself to never ever stop.
You broke another mirror; you’re turning into something you are not.

Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry
Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry

Drying up in conversation, you will be the one who cannot talk.
All your insides fall to pieces, you just sit there wishing you could still make love
They’re the ones who’ll hate you when you think you’ve got the world all sussed out
They’re the ones who’ll spit at you. You will be the one screaming out.

Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry
Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry

It’s the best thing that you’ve ever had, the best thing that you’ve ever, ever
It’s the best thing that you’ve ever had; the best thing you’ve had has gone away.

Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry
Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry


muchas gracias a la mujer fabulosa, Rosi Reyes, who played this song on Ritmos De Las Americas . thanks for taking time to catch up with me while board-opping your own show at the same time. you rock, dude.


happy birthday, robert zimmerman

bob dylan

(Bob Dylan’s Dream)

While riding on a train goin’ west,
I fell asleep for to take my rest.
I dreamed a dream that made me sad,
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had.

With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon,
Where we together weathered many a storm,
Laughin’ and singin’ till the early hours of the morn.

By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung,
Our words were told, our songs were sung,
Where we longed for nothin’ and were quite satisfied
Talkin’ and a-jokin’ about the world outside.

With haunted hearts through the heat and cold,
We never thought we could ever get old.
We thought we could sit forever in fun
But our chances really was a million to one.

As easy it was to tell black from white,
It was all that easy to tell wrong from right.
And our choices were few and the thought never hit
That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split.

How many a year has passed and gone,
And many a gamble has been lost and won,
And many a road taken by many a friend,
And each one I’ve never seen again.

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
That we could sit simply in that room again.
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat,
I’d give it all gladly if our lives could be like that.


elizabeth eckford

thank you.

little rock

Elizabeth Eckford (born October 1941) is one of the African American students known as the Little Rock Nine. On September 4, 1957, she and eight other African American students attempted to enter Little Rock Central High School, which had previously only accepted white students. They were stopped at the door by Arkansas National Guard troops called up by Arkansas Governor Orval Faubus. They tried again without success to attend Central High on September 23, 1957. The next day, September 24, President Dwight D. Eisenhower sent U.S. Army troops to accompany the Little Rock Nine to school for protection.

In 1958 Elizabeth Eckford moved to St. Louis where she achieved the necessary qualifications to study for a B.A. in history. After graduating she became the first African American in St. Louis to work in a bank in a non-janitorial position. Eckford returned to Little Rock in the 1960s and was employed by the First Division, Pulaski County Circuit Court in Little Rock. In 1996, seven of the Little Rock Nine, including Elizabeth Eckford, appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show. They came face to face with a few of the white students who tormented them as well as one student who befriended them. A reunion in Little Rock in 1997 provided an opportunity for acts of reconciliation, as noted in this editorial from the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette on the first day of 1998:

One of the fascinating stories to come out of the reunion was the apology that Hazel Bryan Massery made to Elizabeth Eckford for a terrible moment caught forever by the camera. That 40-year-old picture of hate assailing grace — which had gnawed at Ms. Hazel Massery for decades — can now be wiped clean, and replaced by a snapshot of two friends. The apology came from the real Hazel Bryan Massery, the decent woman who had been hidden all those years by a fleeting image. And the graceful acceptance of that apology was but another act of dignity in the life of Elizabeth Eckford.[1]

[edit] Family tragedy

On the morning of January 1, 2003, Elizabeth Eckford’s son Erin Eckford, 26, was shot and killed by police in Little Rock. The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette reported that the police officers had unsuccessfully tried to disarm him with a beanbag round after he had fired several shots from his military style rifle. When Mr. Eckford pointed his rifle towards them, the police officers shot him. His mother feared that his death was “suicide by police”. Erin, she said, had suffered from mental illness but had been off his prescribed medication for several years. On June 18, 2003, the newspaper reported that prosecutors investigating the fatal shooting had decided that the police officers concerned were justified in shooting Mr. Eckford.

little rock2

beautiful day


things can change in an instant, it’s true.

i started out the day frantically scrambling, losing my keys, my child, and my mind. and i ended up the afternoon by meeting the Dalai Lama.

in between  i hula hooped in a hayes valley park with some beautiful people, loved up a few sweet city dogs, and pondered the pros and cons of gentrification in my old neighborhood.

(when my son was an infant, i lived in hayes valley.  at that time, i don’t think any of the storefronts were offering $200 shoes).


the bill graham civic auditorium hosted the dalai lama this weekend, an event i knew i didn’t have the cash for. it seems ironic that, although the spirit behind a talk by his holiness and a concert by, say, led zeppelin circa 1973, are different animals, the mechanism of promotion and profit-making are apparently similar, perhaps by necessity. the people did seems peaceful and contemplative, as crowds go, and i took a few photos.

we happened to be walking back to BART when His Holiness was leaving the auditorium. a small respectful but excited crowd had gathered, and i ran over, not daring to hope for much, but secretly praying that i could touch the hem of his garment. i’m no buddhist, but there is an undeniable SPIRIT about him, being in his presence, that could just knock you over. it’s like the scent of a flower, or a sound.

i did get within a few feet of him. when he left the auditorium, he crossed the street and came to greet us, the people who did not get in to see him. what a generous man. a man was holding his infant, cradled to face outwards, bowing slightly to his holiness, wordlessly asking for his blessing.  everyone was smiling – i’d say we were delighted.

he was loosely surrounded by bodyguards, who were doing their job professionally but gently – i was so impressed. i imagine being in the presence of the Dalai Lama has that effect on you, whatever your role is.

without hearing a word that he spoke in that auditorium, i learned a great deal in just those few minutes.

poem #1

bus singer

is a lyric a poem? as far as i’m concerned, this one is:

there is a child sleeping near his twin
the pictures go wild in a rush of wind
that dark angel he is shuffling in
watching over them with his black feather wings unfurled

the love you lost with her skin so fair
is free with the wind in her butterscotch hair
her green eyes blew goodbyes
with her head in her hands
and your kiss on the lips of another

dream brother with your tears scattered round the world

don’t be like the one who made me so old
don’t be like the one who left behind his name
’cause they’re waiting for you like i waited for mine
and nobody ever came

don’t be like the one who made me so old
don’t be like the one who left behind his name
’cause they’re waiting for you like i waited for mine
nobody ever came

i feel afraid and i call your name
i love your voice and your dance insane
i hear your words and i know your pain
with your head in your hands and her kiss on the lips of another
your eyes to the ground and the world spinning round forever
asleep in the sand with the ocean washing over

ah do you meet the one i love
and smell the one who loves you
dream asleep in the sand with the ocean washing over

“dream brother”, jeff buckley

cate blanchett’s bob dylan


thanks, cate. i needed that.

your front yard is underwater

pomegranate, lotus + plum

and then some

funny how time slips away

May 2018
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