"For He Is Risen" & "War The Gourmet"
"I was worried about anal rape but the prisoners and guards in jail
supported me. The worst part of 8 years in prison was the snoring!"
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
... and the opener with a scruffy New Orleans front man was a great compliment to the rocky, euro, psycho-atmospheric lounge groove that was an of the moment fresh spin on 60s/70s sounds and evoked a lil woosy psychadelia sans heroin, as well as a mild darkness leading to an introspective yet spiritual high. I wanted more and look forward to CG's evolution along the path of the likes of Marianne Faithfull to create her own musical world of eccentric beauty and deep emotional expression.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns. These things indeed are diametrically opposed. They are as distinct as is vice from virtue. People too often confound them. They should not be confounded. Appearance should not be mistaken for truth, narrow human doctrines that only tend to elate and magnify a few should not be substituted for the world-redeeming creed of Christ. There is, I repeat it, a difference and it is a good and not a bad action to mark broadly and clearly the line of separation between them. The world may not like to see these ideas dissevered, for it has been accustomed to blend them finding it convenient to make external show pass for sterling worth. To let white-washed walls vouch for clean shrines. It may hate him who dares to scrutinize and expose, to raise the guilding and show base metal under it. To pentrate the sepulchre and reveal charnal relics. But hate as it will, it is indebted to him.
I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after,
And changed my ideas:
They've gone through and through me, like wine through water,
And altered the color of my mind.
I was only going to say that heaven did not seem to be my home;
And I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth;
And the angels were so angry that they flung me out
Into the middle of the heath at the top of Wuthering Heights,
Where I woke sobbing for joy.