A L O H A!
Welcome Back to Virtual Hawaii
Wild Orchid
" Loneliness
is the poverty of self;
Solitude
is the richness
of the
self. "
May Sarton
The Scene
" Inside myself is a place where I live all alone,
and that's where I renew my springs
that never dry up. "
Pearl S. Buck
Behind the Scenes
“Language ought to be
the joint creation
of poets
and manual workers.”
George Orwell
Look at the Spiral on That Girl!
“The growth of understanding
follows an ascending spiral
rather than a straight line.”
Joanna Field
Look at the nose on that kid!
" A child of five would understand this.
Send someone to fetch a child of five. "
Groucho Marx
Local Style!
" Hawaii is not a state of mind,
but a state of grace. "
Paul Theroux
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Back in the day
a racially integrated band
was not common.
Today we remember a giant,
a BIG man
in every sense of the word:
Clarence Clemmons,
Bruce Springsteen's friend
and sax player died this past weekend.
His solo from JUNGLELAND
is an indelible soundtrack and talisman
of our lives.
For a kid growing up across the river from New Jersey
this was the epic poetry of our existence.
Someone else heard the music of the night
as I did.
I guess a lot of people far from NJ
felt the same.
Here is the solo
to listen one more time.
followed by Springsteen's lyrics.
" -and the poets down here
Don't write nothing at all,
they just stand back and let it all be- "
Bruce Springsteen Jungleland Lyrics
The rangers had a homecoming in harlem late last night
And the magic rat drove his sleek machine over the jersey state line
Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a dodge
Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
The rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance and disappear down flamingo lane
Well the maximum lawman run down flamingo chasing the rat and the barefoot
Girl
And the kids round here look just like shadows always quiet, holding hands
From the churches to the jails tonight all is silence in the world
As we take our stand down in jungleland
The midnight gangs assembled and picked a rendezvous for the night
They'll meet `neath that giant exxon sign that brings this fair city light
Man there's an opera out on the turnpike
There's a ballet being fought out in the alley
Until the local cops, cherry tops, rips this holy night
The streets alive as secret debts are paid
Contacts made, they vanished unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades hustling for the record machine
The hungry and the hunted explode into rocknroll bands
That face off against each other out in the street down in jungleland
In the parking lot the visionaries dress in the latest rage
Inside the backstreet girls are dancing to the records that the d.j. plays
Lonely-hearted lovers struggle in dark corners
Desperate as the night moves on, just a look and a whisper, and they're gone
Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender in a bedroom locked
In whispers of soft refusal and then surrender in the tunnels uptown
The rats own dream guns him down as shots echo down them hallways in the
Night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light
Outside the streets on fire in a real death waltz
Between flesh and what's fantasy and the poets down here
Don't write nothing at all, they just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand but they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in jungleland
