Fanfare

The world of Morrissey is moving forward at quite a brisk and exciting pace. Our Moz is starting his U.S. Tour on Tuesday in Portland (The home of The Dandy Warhols). His new Album "Low In High School" is coming out in November. The wonderful song "I Wish You Lonely" has been put forward as the next single from "Low In High School". And in addition to all of the above, a new U.K. tour has been announced starting in February 2018. What a whirlwind of fantastic news for Mozza. He also penned a very nice statement about Korda Marshall the BMG executive who signed him. Which portends good news for the future. We have not seen this kind of enthusiasm in many years in Morrissey's World. Let the good times roll.

                                                The very lovely "I Wish You Lonely"

                                                        Let the "Good Times Roll"

And now for the other side of the coin. The microcosm that is the life of the common man, the state of Harrison is in constant disarray. I was able to stop at the club after hockey on Friday night. It was a nice diversion in the hum drum commonality of a dull life. As I was out with friends, the song "Rubber Ring" was constantly playing in the background of my mind.

                                                    I need a Fanfare every now and then.

Friday Night I was dancing and laughing and finally living. All the while I heard a voice in my head (I thought of Moz kindly) but I knew this was all only temporary.

After a few hours of living, reality set in and it was back into the void. "The passing of time leaves empty lives waiting to be filled".

                                                                    Rubber Ring

A Bitter PIL to Swallow

                                                                    Seattle
                                                             

                                                                           Seattle

Sky Harbor

The flock of pigeons rises over the roof,
and just beyond them, the shimmering asphalt fields
gather their dull-colored airliners.

It is the very early night,
a young brunette sits before the long
darkening glass of the airport's west wall.

She smells coffee burning
and something else— her old mother's
bureau filled with mothballs.

Her nearly silver blouse smells of anise
and the heat of an iron.
She suddenly brushes sleep from her hair.

I have been dead for hours. The brunette
witness to nothing studies her new lipstick
smeared on a gray napkin.

The fires of a cremation tank are rising...
she descends into Seattle
nervous over the blinking city lights

that are climbing to meet her flight.
The old man seated next to her closes his book.
He has recognized her.

And leans into the window
to whisper, nothing happens. Nothing
ever happens.

Norman Dubie

Dido and Aeneas

When I am laid in earth (Dido's Lament)

Recitative
Thy hand, Belinda, darkness shades me,
On thy bosom let me rest,
More I would, but Death invades me;
Death is now a welcome guest.

Aria
When I am laid, am laid in earth, may my wrongs create
No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;
Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

Ephemera

By W. B. Yeats

'YOUR eyes that once were never weary of mine
Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,
Because our love is waning.'
And then She:
'Although our love is waning, let us stand
By the lone border of the lake once more,
Together in that hour of gentleness
When the poor tired child, passion, falls asleep.
How far away the stars seem, and how far
Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!'
Pensive they paced along the faded leaves,
While slowly he whose hand held hers replied:
'Passion has often worn our wandering hearts.'
The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves
Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once
A rabbit old and lame limped down the path;
Autumn was over him: and now they stood
On the lone border of the lake once more:
Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves
Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes,
In bosom and hair.
'Ah, do not mourn,' he said,
'That we are tired, for other loves await us;
Hate on and love through unrepining hours.
Before us lies eternity; our souls
Are love, and a continual farewell.'

When I Have Fears

By John Keats

When I have fears that I may cease to be 
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain; 
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; 
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love; - then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink. 

Two Songs Of A Fool

By W.B. Yeats

I

A speckled cat and a tame hare 
Eat at my hearthstone 
And sleep there; 
And both look up to me alone 
For learning and defence 
As I look up to Providence.

I start out of my sleep to think 
Some day I may forget 
Their food and drink; 
Or, the house door left unshut, 
The hare may run till it's found 
The horn's sweet note and the tooth of the hound.

I bear a burden that might well try 
Men that do all by rule, 
And what can I 
That am a wandering-witted fool 
But pray to God that He ease 
My great responsibilities?

II

I slept on my three-leged stool by the fire, 
The speckled cat slept on my knee; 
We never thought to enquire 
Where the brown hare might be, 
And whether the door were shut. 
Who knows how she drank the wind 
Stretched up on two legs from the mat, 
Before she had settled her mind 
To drum with her heel and to leap? 
Had I but awakened from sleep 
And called her name, she had heard, 
It may be, and not have stirred, 
That now, it may be, has found 
The horn's sweet note and the tooth of the hound. 

To A Cat

By John Keats

Cat! who has pass'd thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy'd? How many tit-bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears - but prythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me - and tell me all thy frays,
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick;
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists, -
For all the wheezy asthma - and for all
Thy tail's tip is nick'd off - and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is thy fur as when the lists
In youth thou enter'dst on glass-bottled wall.