Wednesday, February 25, 2009

“Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town”
Eddie Vedder
1964- American

I seem to recognize your face
Haunting, familiar yet
I can’t seem to place it
Cannot find the candle of thought
To light your name
Lifetimes are catching up with me
All these changes taking place
I wish I’d seen the place
But no one’s ever taken me there

Hearts and thoughts, they fade
Fade away

I swear I recognize your breath
Memories, like fingerprints
Are slowly raising
Me you wouldn’t recall
For I’m not my former
It’s hard when you’re stuck up on a shelf
I change by not changing at all
Small town predicts my fate
Perhaps that what no one wants to see
I just want to scream, “Hello”
My god, it’s been so long
Never dreamed you'd return
But now here you are
And here I am
Hearts and thoughts, they fade away

Hearts and thoughts, they fade
Fade away

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Quotations from *Cup of Gold*, 3 of 11
John Steinbeck
1902-1968 American

He had crept from the house in the false dawn, and started briskly walking on the road to Cardiff. There was a frozen, frightened thing in his heart, and a wondering whether he wanted to go at all. To his mind the fear had argued that if he waited to say good-by he would not be able to leave the stone house, not even for the Indies.
John Steinbeck, Cup of Gold

He passed through villages whose names were unknown to him; friendly little clusters of rude huts, and the people staring at him as at a stranger. It was a joyous thing to young Henry. Always he had stared at others who were strangers, dreaming their destinations and the delicious mystery that sent them forth. The name of Stranger made them grand beings with mighty purposes. And now he was a stranger to be thought about and stared at with a certain reverence. He wanted to shout, “I’m on my way to the Indies,” to widen their dull eyes for them and raise their respect. Silly, spineless creatures, he thought them, with no dream and no will to leave their sodden, dumpy huts.
John Steinbeck, Cup of Gold

They kneaded the soil in the fields with their fingers, and as their years of servitude crawled on their eyes deadened, their shoulders slumped, and a tired, dull imbecility stretched cloying webs in their brain.
John Steinbeck, Cup of Gold

When these men were loosed from their slavery, they wandered listlessly about for a time, and watched the others go to work with something of longing. Then, after a little, they either signed new papers of indenture, or went marauding like tigers from a broken cage.
John Steinbeck, Cup of Gold

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Six-Word Story
Ginger Hamilton Caudill

Frigid, cold, cool, tepid, warm, hot.

Friday, February 13, 2009

“I Ain't Ever Satisfied”
Steve Earle
1955- American

I was born by the railroad track
The train whistle wailed and I wailed right back
Papa left mama when I was quite young
He said, "Now one of these days, you're gonna follow me, son"

I ain't ever satisfied

Now I had me a woman, she was my world
But I ran off with a back street girl
Now my back street woman could not be true
She left me standing on the boulevard, thinking about you

I ain't ever satisfied

I got an empty feeling deep inside
I'm going over to the other side

Last night I dreamed I made it to the promised land
I was standing at the gate and I had the key in my hand
Saint Peter said, "Come in, boy, you're finally home"
I said, "No thank you, Pete, I'll just be moving along"

I ain't ever satisfied

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Quotations from *Cup of Gold*, 4 of 11
John Steinbeck
1902-1968 American

Henry had learned many things in dealing with the slaves. He knew that he must never let them see what he was thinking, for then, in some ineffable way, they had a hold on him which would be difficult to shake off. He must be cold and distant and insulting to those below him. With few exceptions, they would take insult as the sign of his superiority. Men always believed him what he seemed to be, and he could seem to be almost anything.

If one were brilliantly dressed, all men presumed him rich and powerful, and treated him accordingly. When he said things as though he meant them, nearly all acted as though he meant them. And, most important of his lessons—if he were perfectly honest and gave a strict accounting in nine consecutive dealings, then the tenth time he might steal as much as he wished, and no one would dream of suspecting him, so only he had brought the nine times forcibly enough to the attention of all men.

A growing pile of golden coins in a box under his bed gave ample proof of the validity of this last lesson. And he followed all his teachings. He never gave any man the least hold on him, nor insight into his motives and means and abilities and shortcomings. Since most men did not believe in themselves, they could not believe in one they understood to be like themselves.
John Steinbeck, Cup of Gold

He gazed about him and knew that he should be satisfied, but his eyes had never lost the trick of looking out beyond distance and over the edge of the present. A little hectoring wish ran through his waking and dreaming like a thin red line. He must get back to the sea and ships. The sea was his mother and his mistress, and the goddess who might command and find him ready and alert for service.
John Steinbeck, Cup of Gold

“I loved her with that love a man may exercise but once.”
John Steinbeck, Cup of Gold

“But—do you love Paulette?”

He leaped up and glared at her.

“You? Love you? Why, you are just a little animal! a pretty little golden animal, for sure, but a form of flesh—no more. May one worship a god merely because he is big, or cherish a land which has no virtue save its breadth, or love a woman whose whole realm is her flesh? Ah, Paulette! you have no soul at all! Elizabeth had a white winged soul. I love you—yes—with what you have to be loved—the body. But Elizabeth—I loved Elizabeth with my soul.”

Paulette was puzzled.

“What is this soul?” she asked. “And how may I get one if I have not one already? And where is this soul of yours that I have never seen it or heard it at all? And if they cannot be seen, or heard, or touched, how do you know she had this soul?”

“Hush!” he cried furiously. “Hush! or I box your mouth and have you whipped on the cross. You speak of things beyond you. What can you know of love that lies without your fleshly juggling?”
John Steinbeck, Cup of Gold

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Six-Word Story

Pound dog. Home dog. Pound dog.