READIN

This is a great album, many fans seem to think it is his best. I don't feel that way, but it is definitely up there among my favorite things. It's also the only record of his that I actually bought as a kid, so I've had it kicking around my space all these years.

This morning I had it in the car stereo driving to work, and by fortuitous coincidence, I got to work and parked precisely at the end of Side A (back in vinyl days); and my drive home in the evening lasted exactly as long as Side B. So I got to listen to the record as it was intended back in 1985, and I think that is kind of important for this record. "The President" just makes more sense as the last song on a side; and "Raymond Chandler Evening" works much better as a new beginning than as the track after "The President".

The bonus tracks (10 of them!) are mostly just fine. I'm especially happy with "Tell Me About Your Drugs", which I've never heard before (actually, I think all of these bonus tracks are new to me!), and "Upside Down Church Blues", which is only a little out of place -- it belongs on "The Basement Tapes" performed by Dylan and The Band. I question the decision to end the tape with alternate cuts of "Bass" and "Lady Waters and the Hooded One", though -- those two songs are real highlights of the record, and the alternate versions are just annoying.

↻...done

I'm in a Hurry for the Sky

This is from a forthcoming movie about the life of Brian Epstein, which hasn't been made yet; but it's been written. Not sure if it's in "development" or "turn-around"...

Knock yourself out yesterday, tomorrow will be fine
It's all for the best you say, somewhere down the line
Everything is fine, Everything is mine.

Pharoah's tomb is empty now, you can crawl right in
Bandage up your sin, bandage up your grin

Oh I, am in a hurry for the sky
Yeah I, am in a hurry for the sky

You can easily confuse, money with success
Success is always relative, money's absolute
Money is acute, money be my girl* -- Yes...

Oh I, am in a hurry for the sky
Yeah I, am in a hurry for the sky

Number 2 said to number 1, you fix us up oh we've finished son
Number 3 said to number 2, I wish I could trade boots with you
Number 4 said to number 5, How does it feel to be eaten alive?
Number 5 said,

I, am not an integrated guy,
Yes I, am in a hurry for the sky
Hurry, for, the, sky...

---

* On the record it is "money in your dress". Not sure if this was heard right in the live version.

Tryptizol, Librium, Carbitol

Here's another song from the Brian Epstein saga; in this one, Brian's getting near the end, and he has a cocktail* that sustains him:

Ah, I feel so close in my head,
I feel so close to my bed;
You've got me spinning around.

I, feel like a big chandelier,
Could crash any time around here;
You've got me spinning around.

When, the world revolves around you,
And then you revolve too...
You've got me spinning around.

Tryptizol, Librium, Carbitol.
Tryptizol, Librium, Carbitol.

I, I feel on top of the world.
And you're my opposite girl.
You've got me spinning around.

Tryptizol, Librium, Carbitol.
Tryptizol, Librium, Carbitol.
Tryptizol, Librium, Carbitol.

Mr. Epstein has left the building.

*The cocktail's ingredients:

• Tryptizol is a brand name for Amitriptyline, an antidepressant.
• Librium is a brand name for Chlordiazepoxide, a sedative.
• Carbitol is a brand name for 2-(2-Ethoxyethoxy)ethanol, a solvent used in mixing drugs; it was named as the cause of death in the coroner's report on Mr. Epstein's death.

↻...done

"I'm Only You", Blend

Well, if you really love somebody, my grandmother used say, you turn into them. ...Nobody turned into my grandmother. So this is dedicated to my grandmother:

"I'm Only You", Turning Pt.

If you really admire somebody, one thing you can do is... try to turn into them. Now this hasn't paid off with things like, the Christian church; but, if the object of your devotions is, nailed, to a piece of wood and... bleeding to death horribly, how much do you wanta turn into them? This is an issue that is raised by the whole concept of the imitation of Christ; um, I'm not gonna deal with that at all. This song is... much much lighter than that. It is, a soufflé, that wafts over the field of human agony rather like a U.F.O.... flits across Arizona and decides to settle in New Mexico.

"Victorian Squid", Blend

It's possible that the Victorians were frightened by sex. ...It's also possible that there's a 7-11 on Jupiter. It's possible that Bush and Cheney will suddenly cause the constitution to be mutated so Bush can seek a third term, and, ah, and mandatorily get it. Some possibilities are better than others. Or... more possible. Anyway, not many Victorians are left, apart from everything they wrote, and they wrote a lot, mostly because they, they wrote in longhand and there was no e-mail. So if they wanted to journal or blog they had to write it down by hand in, you know, with proper ink and stuff like that. ...But biologically, they are much the same as we were, many of us indeed have Victorian a-ancestors, or people who came from that period. And if push came to shove and we had to mate with, those of us who choose to mate or are physically capable of mating, with, ah, other humans, if we had to mate with Victorians, we probably could, and it's quite possible we could have offspring, which would be interesting, especially if they were our great-grandparents who we were mating with; ...but you know, if there's a chronal fissure in the fabric of the cosmos, beggars cannot be choosers, you just have to get on with it, and screw your great-grandparents. Whole empires have been founded on worse. ...And, this song is not really about that. It's an out world. Okay!

"Victorian Squid", Turning Pt.

A lot of people might like to think that the Victorians were, sexually repressed, and... all they could do was have starched colons, and build empires, if they were British, and over here, think that they were free of Britain, and, smoke the same cigars. All forged with iron, and no climaxes... And, y'know, they're probably right, cause, what do we know, we're, I mean, they're all gone; there are very few Victorians in our lives on a day-to-day basis. You might read the works of Trollope, or ah Charles Dickens, but increasingly you won't understand what they're saying, because the language has mutated. So... but, and which is a drag, because they were artists, they were trying to leave a legacy; well they were initially trying to make a living. In fact, before that, they were trying to break rocks of solid stone, boy salt,... basalt? Basil -- solid rocks of basil, that's right. They were trying to cleave these rocks, solid rocks of gravel, they were making a solid road 16 miles long, they were in Sing Sing and Riker's Island, that's where Jane Austen met George Eliot, they were breaking rocks down there. Their asses were bad, and at night they'd go out, fornicating in the baths, with a, blimp... The blimp was above the bath. Kind of um, you know, monitoring them, it was a primitive form of bodyguard; you couldn't afford huge people with sunglasses and holsters and things in those days, so you took, if you were a hard-ass villain breaking rocks of solid gravel out in the penitentiary, then the time came and the warden said "Hey buddy, don't you be no square, go in to Hoboken for the evening and boogie," they would then, the warden would tether you to a blimp, and, um, the blimp would be... It was kind of nice, really nice twine would come down through the chimney of the hostelry you'd be in, boogie, but don't forget, in those days there was no e-mail, but you could smoke. People really knew how to rip it up. And so there's, there's all these convicts would be in there, with these nice chimneys, ventilating the smoke, and also there were a few little pieces of, of silk and muslin and taffeta coming off their ankles, going up to the waiting attendant blimps above them, while they boogied. And then, every so, when it was time to go, their asses would be hauled up by the silk and twine through the chimneys, and then they'd be brought dangling headfirst to the penitentiaries. But by Friday, next Friday, they were ready to give it another go again, cause they'd had a rough week, and they thought anything was better than just spending the night in, you know, watching, um, watching DVD's. Cause there was no Netflix in those days... Hard to believe. So anyway: the Victorians were a rough bunch, everywhere, it's true. So this song is just a kind of mythological... you know, ah, it's my fantasy of what Victorian life was like. I know that the reality is what I've described. So, you know... bear with me, I know it's a feeble picture. But, who wants a strong picture? You know, a strong picture, you'd be driving down the road in your, in your pickup, um... you know, might even lose a wheel, it wouldn't matter, you'd be confident: and then suddenly, there's a strong picture, and you smash into it. Because strong pictures are always left in the road; doesn't matter, could be by Braque, by Picasso, or, or, an older one by... Van Eyck or something, you know, and um, you just smash right into them, your truck is written off, totalled, So remember, weak picures have their place. And if you're going to see the Mona Lisa, that little guy comes busting through the screen, and smashes up against the glass, you know, everything's drenched with blood, in the Louvre, you can't really see the Mona Lisa because of all the dried blood in front of her. Which pisses her off, she's called the Angry Mona Lisa. She's encased, she's just behind this wall of dried blood, I think it's a paradigm of what happened to Christianity; but they were asking for it! ...You know if they'd had a penguin, and a nice un-crucified penguin on a green cone, how much more peaceful would life have been? ...And you know, is that any more meaningless than some poor guy nailed to a tree and bleeding to death, I'd rather see a penguin on a green cone. Okay! here we go.

↻...done