Just like last week!
And I haven't got much to say. I'm not even thinking about the two trillion galaxies. Sometimes you need to stop thinking about them, dear reader(s), and take care of business - like Tom Cruise in Collateral.
I'm glad this is the last post of the week. / Today, uh, yes, Thursday ... I might go for a walk. It helps me think, and it stops anxiety.
I've got Eno's Apollo on. I'm not saying it's my favourite album, but I love listening to it at night. And, uh ... over the last thirty-three or so years ... well, I might have listened to it more than any other album.
I had some chocolate biscuits yesterday, I mean, Wednesday. I don't eat snacks much. Not like I used to. Because I'm trying to get down to rock star weight. I've lost a stone in the last year. I'm pleased with that. It's going to be a gradual thing.
I'll have pizza today, er, Thursday. That's all right. I can eat what I want for lunch and dinner. But no breakfast, and no snacks (normally). I might write a book, The Rock Star Diet. It could be a bestseller.
I haven't had Chinese vegetable curry and egg fried rice for a while. Maybe next week.
...
Listen! It occurred to me, ages ago, that the whole play of Macbeth just acts as a vehicle to deliver this speech -
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
The writing here is more polished and more concentrated than anything else in the play. It wouldn't surprise me if Shakespeare had written it as a short poem first.
This is something I've done with my song Nothing. The whole thing acts as a vehicle to deliver the first eight* lines of the third verse. They are my best eight lines, and they have the grandeur of Shakespeare. No other songwriter has managed that. And I want to do it again with other songs. It's the way I will compete with Bob Dylan. I'm not going to write BIG(!) poetic lyrics like him because I will always want my music to be more than a mere backing sound. It's got to be ... "exciting" and, well, musical - like you get with The Beatles. You dig?
Good night! / Good morning!
*Update: Fifteen! When I was rehearsing this morning, I realized that you've got to consider the fifteen lines of the third verse as being together. However, the first eight are the highlight. Then it dies down a bit.
And I haven't got much to say. I'm not even thinking about the two trillion galaxies. Sometimes you need to stop thinking about them, dear reader(s), and take care of business - like Tom Cruise in Collateral.
I'm glad this is the last post of the week. / Today, uh, yes, Thursday ... I might go for a walk. It helps me think, and it stops anxiety.
I've got Eno's Apollo on. I'm not saying it's my favourite album, but I love listening to it at night. And, uh ... over the last thirty-three or so years ... well, I might have listened to it more than any other album.
I had some chocolate biscuits yesterday, I mean, Wednesday. I don't eat snacks much. Not like I used to. Because I'm trying to get down to rock star weight. I've lost a stone in the last year. I'm pleased with that. It's going to be a gradual thing.
I'll have pizza today, er, Thursday. That's all right. I can eat what I want for lunch and dinner. But no breakfast, and no snacks (normally). I might write a book, The Rock Star Diet. It could be a bestseller.
I haven't had Chinese vegetable curry and egg fried rice for a while. Maybe next week.
...
Listen! It occurred to me, ages ago, that the whole play of Macbeth just acts as a vehicle to deliver this speech -
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
The writing here is more polished and more concentrated than anything else in the play. It wouldn't surprise me if Shakespeare had written it as a short poem first.
This is something I've done with my song Nothing. The whole thing acts as a vehicle to deliver the first eight* lines of the third verse. They are my best eight lines, and they have the grandeur of Shakespeare. No other songwriter has managed that. And I want to do it again with other songs. It's the way I will compete with Bob Dylan. I'm not going to write BIG(!) poetic lyrics like him because I will always want my music to be more than a mere backing sound. It's got to be ... "exciting" and, well, musical - like you get with The Beatles. You dig?
Good night! / Good morning!
*Update: Fifteen! When I was rehearsing this morning, I realized that you've got to consider the fifteen lines of the third verse as being together. However, the first eight are the highlight. Then it dies down a bit.
