Thursday Music. . .

Sometimes words are like butterflies, delicate and difficult to capture. I fill in the blanks with music.

Today's selection is Tin Machine, one of the most critically-hated/loathed groups (cult?) ever formed, but who had and still has a rabid fan base.

Behold bi-curious David Bowie, mastermind Reeves Gabrels shredding on guitar, and some crazy bastard playing drums in his underwear.

It's noisy, loud, weird and a spectacle. No wonder I like it.



Under The God



And my personal fave, with underwear man on the vocals, Stateside.

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Election Day Rush. . .

. . .and I ain't talking about at the polls!



There are those who think that life
Has nothing left to chance
With a host of holy horrors
To direct our aimless dance

A planet of playthings
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive
The stars arent aligned ---
Or the gods are malign
Blame is better to give than receive

You can choose a ready guide
In some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice

You can choose from phantom fears
And kindness that can kill
I will choose a path thats clear
I will choose free will

There are those who think that theyve been dealt a losing hand
The cards were stacked against them ---
They werent born in lotus-land

All preordained
A prisoner in chains
A victim of venomous fate
Kicked in the face
You cant pray for a place
In heavens unearthly estate

Each of us
A cell of awareness
Imperfect and incomplete
Genetic blends
With uncertain ends
On a fortune hunt
That's far too fleet...

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You Know Who You Are. . .

For those who have no real time on their hands.

Give them 4:18 and take away a lifetime of lessons learned.

The hard way.

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