Good Morning!

Pics From Evening Star Thursday Night

I took some quick snapslast night at the Evening Star pub



Kemper Norton at the moogs and harmonium



My old mate Rick The Hat



Another pic of Rick The Hat and friend



Another pic of Kemper Norton



Bob Drake at the guitar.

In fact i actually preferrd the music from Kemper, who is actually British, not American.

Life

Hove CD Finds

I popped over to Hove today and took some old classical Cd's and some poppier stuff. I  did a part exchange  at Fine Records and received  £30 to spend.I actually came out with six CD's - just had to pay a little more for the six - six quid in fact. Thanks Julian.

These are -

Jason Rebello - Make It Real (RCA)
Miles Davis - Tutu (Waner Bros)
Bob Dylan - Blonde On Blonde (CBS)
Roy Budd - Get Carter OST (Cinephile)
Balanescu Quartet - Byrne / Moran / Lurie / Torke (Argo)
Julian Argulles - Scapes (Babel)


From charity shops - 50 p each.

Aphex Twin - Drukqs (Waep  2CD)
Liars - They Threw Us All In A Trench ... (Blast First)
Madonna  - Erotica (Maverick)


Quite  a mixed bag of music - as always.

Friday Music Selection

Time for some music i think -all tracks from the finds today.

Jason Rebello -Compared To What

( More music here )

Enjoy.

Book 32 - Rupi Kaur "Milk And Honey"

Rupi Kaur "Milk And Honey" (Andrews McMeel Publishing)





Milk and Honey is a collection of poetry and prose about survival. About the experience of violence, abuse, love, loss, and femininity.

The book is divided into four chapters, and each chapter serves a different purpose. Deals with a different pain. Heals a different heartache. Milk and Honey takes readers through a journey of the most bitter moments in life and finds sweetness in them because there is sweetness everywhere if you are just willing to look.

It doesn't matter if you find these poems "relatable" or not. There's just something so special and sobering about having someone's innermost thoughts and feelings all laid out on a page for you to read.

This is a relatively quick read, most of the poems are short, but very powerful.

Poems Of The Week

Now talking of poetry - i have not done one of these for awhile so dear readers you get three -

To You.

by Walt Whitman


WHOEVER you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams,
I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands;
Even now, your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies, costume,
crimes, dissipate away from you,
Your true Soul and Body appear before me,
They stand forth out of affairs—out of commerce, shops, law, science, work, forms,
clothes, the house, medicine, print, buying, selling, eating, drinking, suffering, dying.

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem;
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.

O I have been dilatory and dumb;
I should have made my way straight to you long ago;
I should have blabb’d nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you.

I will leave all, and come and make the hymns of you;
None have understood you, but I understand you;
None have done justice to you—you have not done justice to yourself;
None but have found you imperfect—I only find no imperfection in you;
None but would subordinate you—I only am he who will never consent to subordinate
you;
I only am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, beyond what waits
intrinsically
in yourself.

Painters have painted their swarming groups, and the centre figure of all;
From the head of the centre figure spreading a nimbus of gold-color’d light;
But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head without its nimbus of gold-color’d
light;
From my hand, from the brain of every man and woman it streams, effulgently flowing
forever.

O I could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!
You have not known what you are—you have slumber’d upon yourself all your life;
Your eye-lids have been the same as closed most of the time;
What you have done returns already in mockeries;
(Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return in mockeries, what is their
return?)

The mockeries are not you;
Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk;
I pursue you where none else has pursued you;
Silence, the desk, the flippant expression, the night, the accustom’d routine, if
these
conceal you from others, or from yourself, they do not conceal you from me;
The shaved face, the unsteady eye, the impure complexion, if these balk others, they do
not
balk me,
The pert apparel, the deform’d attitude, drunkenness, greed, premature death, all
these I
part aside.

There is no endowment in man or woman that is not tallied in you;
There is no virtue, no beauty, in man or woman, but as good is in you;
No pluck, no endurance in others, but as good is in you;
No pleasure waiting for others, but an equal pleasure waits for you.

As for me, I give nothing to any one, except I give the like carefully to you;
I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner than I sing the songs of the glory
of
you.


Whoever you are! claim your own at any hazard!
These shows of the east and west are tame, compared to you;
These immense meadows—these interminable rivers—you are immense and interminable
as
they;
These furies, elements, storms, motions of Nature, throes of apparent dissolution—you
are
he or she who is master or mistress over them,
Master or mistress in your own right over Nature, elements, pain, passion, dissolution.

The hopples fall from your ankles—you find an unfailing sufficiency;
Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by the rest, whatever you are promulges
itself;
Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are provided, nothing is scanted;
Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui, what you are picks its way.

Rupi Kaur

from "Milk And Honey"

the idea that we are
so capable of love
but still choose
to be toxic


Harlem

BY LANGSTON HUGHES



What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Good Night