amazing space! (museum)

dag udbrød jeg spontant: - det er så hyggeligt, når man kan pinge hinanden med et link… hvorefter jeg blev opmærksom på at en håndfuld mennesker betragtede mig indgående og lidt efter sagde én af dem: - klaus, vil du ikke være rar at forklare dig lidt nærmere..?

i henhold til udfordringen disse iagttagelser omkring fyrfadslys og den rolle de har spillet i mit liv:

1. endnu en af de ting, der ikke fandtes i min barndom
2. endnu en af de ting, der har fungeret ad hoc i forhold til skiftende partnere
3. endnu en af de ting, der ikke findes i mit liv pt
4. det eneste, jeg i grunden gerne vil vide: hvem opfandt fyrfadslyset..?

went down to the library.
You know, the big one way downtown.
I went down to the library.
You know, the big one way downtown.
I pulled out my spiral notebook and my Scripto pencil,
These, I say these, these are the words that I did put down:

I’m a dud firecracker, I ain’t got any fuse
I ain’t got no inspiration since I lost my muse
I’m a table with two legs,
I’m a spider with five.
I’m goin’ down slow, Muse
When will you arrive?
Oh, Muse, where are you?
Oh, Muse, where are you?
You know, I eat, drink and I smoke stuff.
I don’t know what to do.

I went to the mountains and the desert too.
I was there lady so where were you.
I’m a broken down wave.
I ain’t got any curl.
I’m an empty old oyster.
I ain’t got any pearl.
Oh, Muse, where are you?
Oh, Muse, where are you?
You know, I eat, drink and I smoke stuff.
I don’t know what to do.

I take lots of cold showers and I go for long walks.
I wait for the pitch but the fickle bitch balks.
I took a shot of whisky.
And a snort of Cocaine.
Opened up my head.
And stuck electrodes in my brain.
Oh, Muse, where are you?
Oh, Muse, where are you?
You know, I eat, drink and I smoke stuff.
You know, I eat, drink and I smoke stuff.
You know, I eat, drink and I smoke stuff.
I don’t know what to do.

(loudon wainwright iii fra albummet album iii)

eg tilbringer en stor del af tiden (når jeg er hjemme) iført hovedtelefoner… hvis din patetiske banken ikke giver resultat, så er jeg 1) enten ikke hjemme eller 2) audiologisk indisponeret = resultatet er det samme… ring eventuelt på min mobiltelefon (hvis du ikke har nummeret, eller den er ude efter strøm… too bad…) og, nej, jeg har ikke tænkt mig at få lavet ringeklokken… i øvrigt hader jeg uventede gæster, så gør dig selv (og mig) en tjeneste, bestil en tid…

vi har ikke noget øl i huset… ovre hos broder capac står det ikke meget bedre til og så trøster man sig med musikken… vi vil ikke stå tilbage og bidrager med:

Drinking Song (loudon wainwright iii fra albummet album iii)
Drunk men stagger, drunk men fall,
Drunk men swear and that’s not all,
Quite often they will urinate outdoors.
Like widowed women, drunk men weep,
Like children curled up, drunk men sleep,
Like a dog, a drunk will crawl around on all fours.

Be he broke bum or rich rake, his dinner be it bread or cake
His beverage be the worse of whiskey, finest wine.
Puke it stinks and so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
But there has yet to be a perfectly straight line

Drunks talk strong when drunks are weak,
It’s easy for a drunk to speak – straight from the heart
Yeah, drunks will fight they’re not afraid
To kiss the mistress, make the maid
It’s a manly art.

Oh but big toll will take, blood vessels in nose will break
Bags beneath the eyes another sign

Drunks get ugly, so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
But there has yet to be a perfectly straight line.

Drunks are friendly when they’re drunk and
Drunks are hostile when they’re drunk
Which drunk it is, it depends upon.
When drunks aren’t drunk, they thirst for drink,
The elephants are grey not pink
And the drink evaporates the man is gone, gone , gone

Back to the yachts and the subway cars
The hip-flasks and fruit jars
Flat on the face and flat on the behind

Oh, drunks get drunk and so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
There has yet to be a perfectly straight line.

1. én gang og så aldrig mere… (fatalisten)
2. jeg er strøget… (realisten, fra samlingen berømte sidste ord)
3. man sku’ ha’ svovl i begge ender… (optimisten)
4. jeg føler mig udbrændt… (realisten)
5. hvor der er lys, er der håb… (fjolset)

orkas, the pornographer, looked at the dead city and a thousand horny she-devils looked back with a thousand unblinking eyes… ps: det er nok nødvendigt at læse carstens indlæg for at fange den dybere mening… og så er porkas navnet på en af de flittigste kommentarspammere her på bloggen…

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