Tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it

I know it seems as though a lot of my Friday earworms have been songs by Bob Dylan. But that’s because—in the dystopian hellscape that’s our world these days—it’s just a fact that there’s always a Dylan song that’s appropriate for the latest tsunami of general and specific fuckery going on.

So today let’s have “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall”. The melody is kind of uninspiring, as is typical with early Dylan. The imagery in the lyrics have always struck me as being a 1960s version of the Book of Revelation—pretty apocalyptic. But these days, they’re almost a model of restraint, given the reality around us.

I mean—a wave drowning the whole world? A dozen dead oceans? A young woman’s burning body? The well-hidden executioner’s face?

Yeah—we’re there.

Here’s Patti Smith singing it at the 2016 Nobel Prize Ceremony where Dylan was awarded the Prize for Literature. Smith famously lost the lyrics early in her performance, apologized and then carried on with grace. Which I hope we all can do.

The fog

This does not happen often, but here’s a schmear of radiation fog on the nearby golf course a few mornings ago. As you can see, it's only a few feet thick, and the sky is completely cloudless.

 

 

 

Four stars

The clematis season has passed us by, but I thought I’d post a few shots before I archive them for this year.

You're welcome.

 

 

Inspiration

Well, hey—looky who it is waiting for me to get back from my walk yesterday morning.

Nice greeting, eh?

 

Gratitude Monday: not Fred

It’s odd that I’m having to grasp at straws for something to be grateful for today—today being Independence Day.

I mean—usually I spend today contemplating the bold ideas of the founding fathers and marveling at how our idea of a national holiday parade looks more like a picnic than a May Day affair.

But for the past couple of years, my heart is just not in it. MAGAts and the MEAL Team Six crowd have delegitimized the word “patriot” and beclowned the flag. On Saturday, a contingent of the incel infantry stomped along part of Boston’s Freedom Trail (they’d never have made it through the whole 2.5 miles of it, especially if they had to pass any Dunkin’ Donuts), waving flags & thumping a drum. The gang who’ve declared for the past two years they will never wear a diaper on their face because “mah freedom” were all gaitered up, possibly so no one’s mom could recognize them and toss them out of her basement, as happened at their last outing attempting to disrupt a Pride parade in Idaho.

As I understand it, Boston cops escorted the Nazis back to their U-Haul rented trucks (their preferred mode of transportation) after their outing; they didn’t scuttle back ahead of angry locals like they were in Philly last July 4^th.

But here’s what I shall always see and hear whenever these douchebags appear in the news. And that’s something to be grateful for in our current situation.