Sueño II

Mis sueños locos,
mis sueños imposibles…

Rock ‘n’ Roll? Well, certainly, this man belongs into some Hall of Fame:

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I especially loved the insider pun: “I reminded of the prophetic statement of Jon Landau. In the early 70s he said: I’ve seen the future of rock ‘n’roll and it is not Leonard Cohen.”

Well, my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I’m hungry for love but I’m not coming on
I’m just paying my rent every day
Oh in the tower of song

I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn’t answered me yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the tower of song

I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the great beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the tower of song


early morning sounds
a songbird’s tune, cats in love
the awakening

The 25th of June — an important day in history? Because Ecuador is playing soccer against England today?

No! It was five years ago that frankenschulz had to wake up from a dream, finding himself on the Frankfurt airport, back in Germany — back from Kalamazoo!

In honor of this great anniversary, and in honor of this great place — well, let’s say the great people, we’ve met there — somebody should deliver a speech and a toast, right?

I’m not a good talker, so I went back to a better one and found a very appropriate poem by Carl Sandburg for you guys (note that it was already written in 1922!):

The Sins of Kalamazoo

The sins of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson.

The sins of Kalamazoo are a convict gray, a dishwater drab.

And the people who sin the sins of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson.

They run to drabs and grays–and some of them sing they shall be washed whiter than snow–and some: We should worry.

Yes, Kalamazoo is a spot on the map
And the passenger trains stop there
And the factory smokestacks smoke
And the grocery stores are open Saturday nights
And the streets are free for citizens who vote
And inhabitants counted in the census.
Saturday night is the big night.
Listen with your ears on a Saturday night in Kalamazoo
And say to yourself: I hear America, I hear, what do I hear?

Main street there runs through the middle of the twon
And there is a dirty postoffice
And a dirty city hall
And a dirty railroad station
And the United States flag cries, cries the Stars and Stripes to the four winds on Lincoln’s birthday and the Fourth of July.


29 january 2006

a new moon
marks the lunar year

welcome the dog

looking upon the same moon
where ever we all may be

and on the dark side
is a crater name fitzgerald

– uto iha