Friday, June 05, 2009

Giddy up!!

Riding on the range,
I've got my hat - on,

I've got my boots - dusty.

I've got my saddle

On my horse.

He's called....T-t-t-t-t-trigger

Of course.

I wanna be a cowboy

and you can be my cowgirl

I wanna be a cowboy

and you can be my cowgirl

I wanna be a cowboy

(woman's voice)

Riding on the chuck wagon,

Following my man.

His name is Ted,

Can you believe that?

Camping on the prairie

Plays havoc with my hair.

Makes me feel quite dirty,

Though we all do sometimes

I wanna be a cowboy

and you can be my cowgirl

I wanna be a cowboy

and you can be my cowgirl

I wanna be a cowboy

Looking like a hero,

Six-gun at my side,

Chewing my tobacco.

Out on the horizon,

I see a puff of smoke.

Indians on the warpath,

(Indian voice) White man speak-em with forked tongue.

Or not.

I wanna be a cowboy
and you can be my cowgirl

I wanna be a cowboy

My name is Ted,

And one day I'll be dead yo yo

Thursday, June 04, 2009

Greatest pop songs ever?

Those schoolgirl days, of telling tales and biting nails are gone,
But in my mind,

I know they will still live on and on,

But how do you thank someone, who has taken you from crayons to perfume?

It isn't easy, but I'll try,

If you wanted the sky I would write across the sky in letters,

That would soar a thousand feet high,

To Sir, with Love

The time has come,

For closing books and long last looks must end,

And as I leave,

I know that I am leaving my best friend,

A friend who taught me right from wrong,

And weak from strong,

That's a lot to learn,

What, what can I give you in return?

If you wanted the moon I would try to make a start,

But I, would rather you let me give my heart,

To Sir, with Love

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The best jazz photographs are those saturated in the sound of their subject...

"Photographs sometimes work on you strangely and simply: at first glance you see things you subsequently discover are not there. Or rather, when you look again you notice things you initally didn't realize were there. In Milt Hinton's photograph of Ben Webster, Red Allen, and Pee Wee Russell, for example, I though that Allen's foot was resting on the chair in front of him, that Russell was actually drawing on his cigarette, that ..."
"The fact that it is not as you remember it is one of the strengths of Hinton's photograph (or any other for that matter), for although it depicts only a split second the felt duration of the picture extends several seconds either side of that frozen moment to include - or so it seems - what has just happened or is about to happen: Ben tilting back his hat and blowing his nose, Red reaching over to take a cigarette from Pee Wee ... Oil paintings leave even the Battle of Britain or Trafalgar strangely silent. Photography, on the other hand, can be as sensitive to sound as it is to light. Good photographs are there to be listened to as well as to be looked at; the better the photograph, the more there is to hear. The best jazz photographs are those saturated in the sound of their subject. In Carol Reiff's photo of Chet Baker onstage at Birdland we hear not just the sound of the musicians as they are crowded into the small stage of the frame but the background chat and clinking glasses of the nightclub. Similarly, in Hinton's photo we hear the sound of Ben turning the pages of the paper, the rustle of cloth as Pee Wee crosses his legs. Had we the means to decipher them, could we not go further still and use photographs like this to hear what was actually being said? Or even, since the best photos seem to extend beyond the moment they depict, what has just been said, what is about to be said ..." [p.XII-XIII, original emphasis]

Tuesday, July 17, 2007


The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake that, you've got it made.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

I Offer Up To You...

Kiss me goodnight and say my prayers
Leave the light on at the top of the stairs

Tell me the names of the stars up in the sky

A tree taps on the window pane

That feeling smothers me again

Daddy is it true that we all have to die

At the top of the stairs

Is darkness

I closed my eyes and when I looked

Your name was in the memorial book

and what had become of all the things we planned

I accepted the commiserations

Of all your friends and your relations

But there's some things I still don't understand

You were so tall

How could you fall?

Some photographs of a summer's day

A little boy's lifetime away

Is all I've left of everything we've done

Like a pale moon in a sunny sky

Death gazes down as I pass by

To remind me that I'm but my father's son

I offer up to you

This tribute

I offer up to you

This tank park salute

Billy Bragg

The Bard of Barking

You and I are victims of a love
That lost a lot in the translation

When I think of all the time that I spent

Sitting on the edge of your bed in anticipation

Of you giving in and us living in sin

A hot day, the smell of hairspray

And the sound of a shower running softly

Its things like this that remind me of how I felt

The first time you came back for coffee

The way you took it amazed me

Walking in the park, kissing in the dark

And my head against your pillow

Late at night a lover sings

Adam and eve are finding out all about love

I say Adam and eve are finding out all about love

There is no real substitute

For a ball struck squarely and firmly

And you're the kind of girl who wants to

Open up the bottle of pop

Too early in the journey

Our love went flat just like that

It doesn't matter the colour of the car

But what goes on beneath the bonnet

Is there a flag that flies above your heart

And is my name writ there upon it

Wedding cake and toothache

Equals love and pain

Walking in the park, kissing on the carpet

And your tights around your ankles

Late at night a lover thinks of these things

Adam and eve are finding out all about love

I say Adam and eve are finding out all about love

Adam and Eve are finding out all about

Adam and Eve are finding out all about love

Teresa and Steve are finding out all about love

Friday, July 06, 2007

I'm so damn happy!

It's crucial that it doesn't matter
Vows of love are idle chatter
To feel this good has to be bad
I'm so damn happy that it's sad
Dear listener would you like to slap me
And the sad thing is I'm so damn happy
Yes the sad thing is I'm so damn happy

Friday, October 28, 2005

I'm just telling you to live in it...

In a commencement address at the University of California, Riverside, in 1975, Didion offered a general imperative that still illuminates her own disposition, even in the darkest times: "I'm not telling you to make the world better, because I don't think that progress is necessarily part of the package," she said. "I'm just telling you to live in it. Not just to endure it, not just to suffer it, not just to pass through it, but to live in it. To look at it. To try to get the picture. To live recklessly. To take chances. To make your own work and take pride in it. To seize the moment. And if you ask me why you should bother to do that, I could tell you that the grave's a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace. Nor do they sing there, or write, or argue, or see the tidal bore on the Amazon, or touch their children. And that's what there is to do and get it while you can and good luck at it."