Tag Archives: Shivers Rowland S. Howard

Do These People Stay Up All Night?

I am of course talking about the non-stop com r*des on the Far L*ft whose sole goal in life is to try to get you to disbelieve  anything at all that actually makes sense.

So, clearly, they must stay awake all night trying to think of new ways to get you to buy into their garbage.

I’m currently talking about how they’re scrambling to try to undue the damage done by that Austrian MP who proved in front of the Austrian parliament that Coca Cola tests positive for C* VID 19 when using the thoroughly rigged p  c  r  test. The M P went on to say:

 “The evidence is overwhelming, starting with the absolutely absurd mass tests that are currently being carried out, which are nothing more than a large-scale redistribution of tens of millions of euros in tax money from the population…it can’t go on like this.”

Much like how the Italian scientist showed how the seemingly harmless kiwi also tests positive for C* VID when using the thoroughly rigged p  c  r  test.

(There have also been chicken wings tested, and mangoes tested, and it seems that everything everywhere — including millions of people — tests positive for C* VID when using that test.)

Which of course is why this is important to watch:

No, I am not letting up on this. And partly because I encountered a young woman in the health food store yesterday.

On the outside, she looked perfectly healthy. I don’t know if she had a compromised immune system. She didn’t say. She seemed to simply be out of her mind with anxiety. Two older men — in their 70s — were also in  the store. One, who seemed to be mostly Native American (who was exceedingly attractive, btw, and did not look 72!!), wasn’t wearing a m*sk at all. I didn’t even notice because I’m not part of the m* sk police. The other man had his m* sk lowered because he was actually prophesying something about Jesus. It was sort of fascinating.

Anyway, the young woman was hovering in the corner, completely terrified. And I thought she was afraid of the Jesus thing. I went over to her and asked her if she was frightened. And she was so angry. She said that she didn’t appreciate them not wearing m*sks and that they were invading her personal space…

Whoa, right? Here we all were — so much older than she was and knowing now that it’s all a fr*ud (there’s a virus, yes,  but it’s not worthy of a p* nd* m*c) (or as some people call it : the “planned-emic’). And yet here’s this young woman, absolutely buying it, hook line & sinker, and terrified out of her mind.

I actually just walked away from her because I could see it was hopeless. But it makes me so angry, to see what they are doing to these poor people who are falling into this scheme of psychological control and they are losing their minds.

And when a person is that far gone (the term is “delusional psychosis”), if you try to tell them that m* sks don’t work, that more and more studies are coming out to prove it — yet there are no studies proving they do work, and all you have to do is look around at the world, lo! these many months now, and use common sense to see that if the m*sks worked, we wouldn’t have a so-called p * n d* m*c, getting worse and worse with each passing day…. Or that the C D C has known all along that m* sks don’t work, etc., well, you’re just going to push these poor people’s minds to the breaking point.

In my opinion, that does qualify as a “crime against humanity.” (See video above.)

What’s going to happen to that poor woman when she finally finds out the truth? And multiply her times all the others who are still under this spell of extreme psychological manipulation?

(I told a friend recently about those stats on the C  D  C  web site, and so she went and saw it for herself: there was no huge rise in the numbers of deaths in the US in 2020 (so odd, because we’ve been having, like, a p* nd* m *c…). The numbers this year are in line with the numbers from 2019, 2018, 2017, etc., etc.  It all comes down to which columns they put the numbers in.)

And keep in mind that, at least around here, hospitals get paid upwards of $30K for each C* VID death they have, so what is likely to go on the death certificate? The surviving relatives have to actually start lawsuits against the hospitals in order to get the right cause of death put on the death certificate for their loved one. (So far, no one has won yet; it’s all still in progress.)

Much like how big ph * rma is now paying pastors $30K to encourage their congregations, from the pulpit no less, to get vaccinated…

Oh wait — here’s an idea: Follow the $$$$$$

Makes sense Memes

All right. Here’s another idea.

The Gallop Poll revealed yesterday that Tr**p is the most admired man in America for 2020. He not only booted O b o zo out of the prime spot for the first time in 12 years (I’m guessing he was a little hard to be around yesterday — O b * m *, I mean; aka “the excruciatingly extreme narcissist”).

Anyway, Tr**p not only booted O b* m* out of that spot, but B* den — yes, the man who allegedly got more votes  in 2020 than John F. Kennedy and O * b*m* ever got, both of whom are considered among the most popular pr* s* d* nts in history. Anyway, B* den, who allegedly won the Pr* s* d* ncy with 80 million votes,  was way down on the Gallop Poll list of admired men…

I mean, it’s just odd

What was also of interest, is that m i c h * ll e  o b* m* was selected as the most admired woman of 2020. I only find this odd because I personally do not know a single solitary person who likes that woman. But then I don’t know everyone.

If you missed the wide angle video I posted last week about the c e o of  O v *r st * ck and the multi-million dollar bribery scam involving our beloved H * ll *ry, you might want to watch it, because he talks about O b * m *’s scheme to remain Pr * s*n d*nt for no less than 3 if not 4 additional terms. (Not counting the 2 he already had).  He was planning to achieve this by putting H * ll * ry up as a puppet for 2 terms, then his wife, m * ch* lle. (This was allegedly going to be achieved through the constant rigging of e l * ct* ons, much like how he is trying to become P r * s* d* nt again by setting B* den up as a puppet in a rigged el * ct * on, followed closely by k *m * l *, because I don’t think anyone on Earth thinks B* den is going to not face some sort of criminal money-laundering charges, whether its here in the U S or in our beloved u k r a i n e, and so they are expecting k*m * l * to actually be the Pr * s* d* nt. )

Anyway. The guy is power mad.

Okay, well, more developments on the Stimulus Bill but I will let the videos below discuss that for you, since they do it really, really well.

Thanks for visiting, gang. I hope you are taking it easy and gearing up for a really nice New Year’s Eve!! I love you guys. See ya.

Below: “The people are now seeing for the first time that congress is not for the people, they are interested in their lobbyists, special interest groups and they are not passing bills to benefit the people. Tr**p just exposed the economic swamp.”

Oh, and guess what? There’s still massive el * ct * on fr* ud out there. This has something to do with very complicated math (meaning addition and subtraction) …

It’s So Fucking Hard to be Good!

(Yes, yes, I know — it’s so fucking good to be hard, too. But we’re not going there! This is a tasteful blog!!) (I know, like — since when??)

Anyway. I digress already!!

Last night, at the Rowland S. Howard Pop Crimes tribute in London, Nick Cave sang “Shivers” and it was so fucking amazing. I am so serious. His voice was incredible. The song sounded so beautiful.

I wasn’t there, obviously. I was toiling away for hours, here at my mini-desk in Crazeysburg, working on Girl in the Night. But people who actually were there began posting to Instagram right away. Even Nick Cave’s wife posted to Instagram right away — a 59 second video of him singing. (Yeah, I know — I was kinda thinking: really? you think you ought to be doing that? setting that kind of an example and all?) Still, I was indescribably grateful because the song sounded so fucking good.

I knew it had to be on YouTube somewhere — the complete performance of that song. And I hate supporting that kind of thing because, in America anyway, that is a total violation of all sorts of copyrights. It’s not an American song, or an American performance, and probably not an American uploading it to YouTube, so I don’t know the actual laws on that, but still. I don’t like to support that kind of thing. However, I did find it immediately and I did listen to it twice.

Jesus, it was so good. It made me feel so happy — Nick Cave’s voice has never sounded better. Really. I feel certain that Rowland S. Howard was smiling all over that performance.

Well, regarding the new segments of Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. If you’ve read them, you’ll see that they are indeed quite different from the other segments of the book. I’m not sure why they came out that way, but they did.

I know that some of the guys and gals I met in the mental hospital will reappear in a later “Letter” and it will likely be more graphic in nature — I fell in love in the hospital, but I also did have a ton of sex in that place (and I never got caught, even though a few times, it was by the skin of my teeth, as they say. A lot of the other kids in there did get caught having sex, and when that happened, the Administration came down really hard. There was really hell to pay then, because the hospital was legally obligated to tell the parents, and so then the parents got involved and you can just imagine how awful that was for the teenagers. Anyway. I never got caught.).

(Oh, and there was this one girl in there that I really just hated and she hated me. And she was so jealous that I was having all that oral sex with the blue-eyed blond boy — and he was really cute and he did really excel at his, well, craft or whatever. But that girl was so jealous that she finally convinced him, behind my back, to have sex with her, too. But for some reason, she actually had intercourse with him. And then she told me. Because she wanted to hurt my feelings. And it hurt like crazy — although I wasn’t a big fan of intercourse and couldn’t really imagine why she thought that was better than having oral sex because, I’ll tell you, that boy was good at it. But, regardless. Me being that easy- breezy 1967-type of no-strings gal (see the recent Glen Campbell post and “Gentle on My Mind”), I tried to act like I wasn’t really, really hurt by this. Well, then…as God would have it… the girl’s Fallopian tubes swelled up! It got really bad. So they made her go to the gynecologist, too, and he of course, discerned that she’d been having intercourse and she got into HUGE trouble. Just huge. Because they told her parents and her dad was a freaking minister. Seventh Day Adventist, to boot. Really strict and conservative, and she got into so much trouble; she was put on room arrest and all her privileges were taken away. And then some other female-organ complication ensued wherein she had to have an enema, too. Poor thing. I was de-lighted.)

Okay, anyway.

For whatever reason, #6 & 7 are just really different segments of the book. And I’m going to let them stand as they are, because that’s how they wanted to come out.

Well, it is continuing to snow here — like, for real. Snow everywhere, and it’s accumulating. So that’s really nice. I love snow.

And yesterday afternoon, Wayne finally called me from NYC to tell me he loved the new version of Tell My Bones and he didn’t see anything wrong at all with the ending.

So I guess I’m signing off on it. And moving forward. It’s such a weird feeling. I know that more tweaks will happen as the readings and the rehearsals and then the play itself is actually underway, still, for now, the play is done. And it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around that because I’ve been working on this theatrical adaptation of Tell My Bones since 2016.

Plus, it also means, we are indeed finally moving forward. Wow. Exciting. I know that some really talented people are going to get pulled into these roles — I just know it.

Well, today, I’m going to get back to In the Shadow of Narcissa. While researching more potential small presses to send Blessed By Light to (in the event I ever hear back from any of the other publishers I queried and they decline it), I did notice quite a few chapbook publishing options for a book like Narcissa. So that was cool. And yesterday, I got a really nice comment from an online reader, and it sort of solidified for me that, even though Narcissa is getting emotionally difficult for me to write, it will be a really, really good thing to keep moving forward with it. So I’m going to get back to that today.

Before I close, Wayne told me the coolest story yesterday.  In NYC, a lot of people sell used books on the street as a way to make money. And over a year ago, Wayne bought a hard cover edition of Chuck Berry’s Autobiography. The guy selling it only wanted two dollars, even though Wayne offered to give him more than that because it was a hard cover. But all the guy wanted was two dollars.

So Wayne gave him the two dollars and then took the book home, set it on a coffee table and then, over a year later, finally decides he wants to read it. He opens the book and it’s not only a first edition, but it’s signed by Chuck Berry. And not only is it signed by him, but there’s also a personal inscription because Chuck Berry apparently actually knew the guy who was buying the book.

So, wow. That was a really cool thing to get for two dollars. But then, as Wayne is reading the book, in small chunks, on subways and on city buses, etc., he was then in the Union Club yesterday, on Park Avenue, still reading the book and suddenly a $50 bill falls out from between some of the back pages! And he was, like, “Where the hell did that come from?” So he flips through the back pages of the book and there was a ton of money in it! Over $200 in 50s and 20s!! And it had been sitting like that in the apartment of over a year.

And on top of all that — Wayne said that the book is actually really good!

Isn’t that an amazing story?! All right. I’m gonna scoot and get down to work here. Tomorrow is all about Abstract Absurdity with Peitor again, so I really want to try to focus on Narcissa here today.

Have just a wonderful Thursday, wherever you are in the world. I’m not gonna leave you with what I would really love to leave you with today, but I just don’t think it’s okay to do that. So I’ll just leave you with this. It’s from an Australian news site, and I’m guessing there’s a copyright on the photo, too, but I can’t find a name (and I did look).  Okay, I love you guys. See ya!

Image result for rowland s. howard pop crimes tribute london 2020
Nick Cave singing “Shivers” last night at the Rowland S. Howard tribute concert in London.

Farewell To A Truly Splendid Year!

Probably the high point of my year was discovering that Chesterfield cigarettes were now available for purchasing at the gas station here in Crazeysburg!! (Even though I still don’t smoke!)

I’m kind of kidding, gang, and kind of not — because it sort of symbolized to me that eventually the thing you really want, or miss, or crave, or desire, or regret its absence and fervently wish to have it return — eventually, it all comes back around. There’s nothing to fear, or to seriously regret, you know? Everything changes. And that’s a blessing we can all share in.

You know, on Instagram, I’m noticing that a lot of people consider attending one of the Conversations with Nick Cave to be the highlight of their whole year. And I think I have to concur. Especially the one at Lincoln Center.

However, I think if I had to distill it down to my absolutely favorite moment of all of 2019 — even while I still wasn’t smoking! — it was after that show at Lincoln Center was over and I was back in that strange Airbnb in Midtown Manhattan, alone in my bed in the dark, all the city lights shining through the Venetian blinds regardless. And I was listening to the Boys Next Door on YouTube, singing “Shivers.” Nick Cave had sung it during the In Conversation that evening and he’d done such a stunning job of singing it, all these years later. And it was so cool to sort of let time evaporate for a little while and see Rowland Howard alive again, too, and everyone just so darn young. And it is such a beautiful, beautiful song.

That moment in my bed, listening to that song, was my absolute favorite moment of the whole year.

It was such a good year for me, gang. The best year of my whole life. Not that there were a lot of highs in it, because actually there weren’t. There was just a steady feeling that I was making it out of the darkness for good. And the only really low point of the year was Daddycakes dying in the spring, so unexpectedly.

Here is a photo of him with Huckleberry. It’s at the old house, at the top of the stairs.  Probably around 2014. It’s sort of a strange photo but I just love how Huckleberry is looking at him with so much love.

Okay. Have a really wonderful time saying adieu to 2019 and hola to 2020!! You know what I’m leaving you with!! Thanks for spending time in my room this year! I love you guys. See ya!

Shivers

I’ve been contemplating suicide
But it really doesn’t suit my style
So I guess I’ll just act bored instead
And contain the blood I would have shed

She makes me feel so ill at ease
My heart is really on its knees
But I wear a poker face so well
That even mother couldn’t tell

And my baby’s so vain she is almost a mirror
And the sound of her name sends a permanent shiver down my spine

I keep her photo against my heart
Cause in my life she plays a starring part
All alcohol and cigarettes
There is no room for cheap regret

She makes me feel so ill at ease
My heart is really on its knees
But I wear a poker face so well
That even mother couldn’t tell

And my baby’s so vain she is almost a mirror
And the sound of her name sends a permanent shiver down my spine

c – 1979 Rowland S. Howard

How Exciting!

I was just sitting down to do the blog and I checked my email, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? A Red Hand Files newsletter (two, actually) announcing a new double album from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds coming next week.

Ghosteen.

It sounds like it is going to be sort of intense. As if Skeleton Tree wasn’t difficult enough for me to listen to. Of course, it’s worth the emotional payoff.  In spades, but still. A tiny little voice, deep in the center of my mind is fearfully fretting: oh no, now what?!

Because I don’t ever just listen to Nick Cave; I react on every level.

It’s funny, during the night, I awoke and was thinking about the Conversation from Saturday night and when a guy in the balcony asked him when a new album would be coming out, Nick Cave didn’t reply to it. I can’t recall now if he literally did not reply or if he said something that was not a reply. Anyway, I was pondering that during the night; wondering why he didn’t reply. And now, voila. The real reply.

I was also thinking last night how interesting it is that the 2 songs I remember most from Saturday night were 2 songs that he didn’t write. I remember all of the songs, but just the 2 that stood out most for me emotionally were songs he didn’t write: Cosmic Dancer and Shivers.

I think that Shivers is such a beautiful song. It seems like it always bothered Rowland Howard a lot — how people responded to that song. I don’t think he wanted people to like it so much. He seems maybe to have written it from a perspective of ironic contempt and then people responded to the ironic beauty of it, instead.  (Well, there’s irony for you!) I personally think it’s a song of truly timeless relevant beauty. I really do. I was wondering if Rowland Howard has a different perspective on it now from where he’s at. I’m guessing he does. I think that when we die, we immediately embrace and embody the love of everything beautiful that we created while we were physical, even if we were at odds with it and couldn’t see its beauty while we were alive.

Anyway, Nick Cave sang it so beautifully on Saturday night; it was spellbinding.

Last night, I looked it up on YouTube and there’s an extremely old live version of  it. I don’t remember now if it was the Boys Next Door or the Birthday Party, but it was really cool to watch it.

There is something sort of cosmic in just that process. You know, on the one hand, experiencing the emotional beauty and intensity of hearing Nick Cave sing that song live right now, at his age now — a song of such precise teenage angst; and then holding a little phone in your hand and watching him sing it so differently but no less beautifully when he’s so young.  Maybe close to 40 years ago — something like that.

Perhaps you can see that I had sort of a strange evening last night.

I was determined to just rest and not go out walking. It was hot out and of course teeming with people everywhere. Plus, I really was just exhausted. So I forced myself to stay in and go to bed early. And I probably really and truly did relax for the first time in a year. But I did find my thoughts going to strange places. Or unexpected places, is more accurate.

For instance, I listened to an old audio interview with Tom Petty from the late 80s, when Full Moon Fever first came out. Back in the days when he only just barely tolerated interviewers and you can always hear his contempt for the person and the whole process bobbing just under the surface of everything he says. The guy asked him a question about perspectives in songwriting and Tom Petty replied re: using all three perspectives at various points— first, second, and third perspectives. And I found myself feeling a little surprised that he knew about terms like that! But you know — he was actually really smart. I’m not sure why I find it surprising that he could express concepts and stuff like that. How weird, right?

Ah well. It only made me start missing him a lot, so I stopped listening to it.

And then I was also thinking about certain streets from my past that are right around here. For instance, this street I’m staying on — W.53rd. MoMA is on this  street, but a few avenues east. I used to work at MoMA a long, long time ago. In fact, that’s where I met Peitor and we became instant friends. It was an important time in my life— working at MoMA. Frank O’Hara is probably my most favorite poet. I first fell in love with him when I was 15. And so for me, working at MoMA was my way of trying to absorb his spirit, his essence. (He worked there as a curator when he wrote pretty much ALL of his best poems and when he died, he was still working there. Modern Art was a huge part of his emotional sensibilities.)

Anyway. I had nearly forgotten all about that. And then W.50th Street. I’ve walked across it numerous times this trip, and only last night recalled that I used to live on it —just around the corner from here — and that my song, “Breaking Glass,” was written about a relationship I was in while living there. My first husband proposed marriage to me in that apartment — one afternoon while he was visiting me.

And then on Saturday, on my way to that incredible meeting with the director re: my play, the Lyft driver drove passed E. 66th Street on 3rd Avenue and it was in an apartment on that very block of E.66th Street that my one and only baby was conceived.

I thought last night about how strange it was that I have always retained that. Not the actual apartment number. I would not recognize the building if I saw it again. I just always remember that it was on E.66th Street, between 3rd and 2nd Avenues. So sad.

Well, anyway. I must say that blogging on a phone is a wee bit annoying… this one-finger typing business.

Okay, so I’m gonna close this now. I’m gonna try to wash my hair before Valerie arrives. And then I will be indescribably eager to see Nick Cave in Conversation again tonight. I think it will be an entirely different experience from up in the balcony, though — even though, normally, I actually prefer the balcony at Town Hall.  (Tonight, however, I think that I will not be preferring it.) (If only I were one of those people who felt really comfortable defying public convention; I would look to see which seats remain empty down on the main floor and go sit in one! But I’m just somebody who totally behaves in public and does not wish to draw undue attention to myself, ever!!)

All righty!! Have a great Monday, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!

Ghosteen Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds