woodstock diary '73-'76 https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/t2645 Runboard| woodstock diary '73-'76 en-us Fri, 29 Mar 2024 02:33:55 +0000 Fri, 29 Mar 2024 02:33:55 +0000 https://www.runboard.com/ rssfeeds_managingeditor@runboard.com (Runboard.com RSS feeds managing editor) rssfeeds_webmaster@runboard.com (Runboard.com RSS feeds webmaster) akBBS 60 Re: woodstock diary '73-'76https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p17650,from=rss#post17650https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p17650,from=rss#post17650*)* A Vignette *)* *)* It was a simple house in a simple town. The road was long and winding. Two men sat on the road. They were playing cards. One man had a bottle which was occasionally passed. They were not playing for any stakes, But as an excuse for companionship. It was a simple house in a simple town. Old gnarled, stately tall trees formed a woods that lined the roadway. It was noon, but the day was overcast; not dark, but pleasantly muted. It was autumn. The trees were proud of their majestic leaves of gold and magenta which covered their branches and sprinkled the earth. Small furry creatures occasionally could be seen amidst the trees, leaves and earth. The two men were aware of all this in the backgrounds of their minds. They were also aware of the pleasantness of their peaceful companionship as they played cards, passed the bottle and made casual conversation about this and that. It was a simple house in a simple town by the side of a long and windy road which was surrounded by woods. A plane passed overhead and was briefly a part of this scene, before moving on to more important places. *)* *)* *)* Spring Medley *)* *)* Air clear as a free-running stream tumbling over country rocks and minty greenery Clear soft air of early spring Breathing satsang, reeling eternity, While running 'cross the straight-lined highway -- shouting "Hey sky, embrace me!" shouting I embrace the air and call it Love. *)* I love you, love you, love you, love you I Form, Words, Action I in motion I in tumbling, stumbling, crazy image kaleidoscope over 'n' over love you, love you, love you, love you Capture the essence for an almost noninstant Capture the image of groping, grabbing, grasping gazing heartfelt on release, but love you, love you, love you, love you insane, insatiable cannot touch release of love you, love you, love you, love you Smothering in the too pure air. *)* Hey, Springtime, Got some time to be wasting So I tracked a songbird on a still bare treebranch and joined it in song. What wonder the woods bring I can't contain it. Thistle and briar weeds Capture my imagination Grow wild and tangly All through my mind. *)* *)* *)* Easter *)* *)* Gentle rosy raindrops of a mellow morning, Children make the day -- it's spring. I thought of God in Church this morning, nailed to His cross in long ago Jerusalem, arising to springtime, the earth's reawakening. It's a time for children and games of childhood, a time for playing with love, secret smiles and daisy chains. It's a time for the simple and natural A time for anointing the soul in peace after the ravages of winter. A time for gentle things like newborn kittens and flowerbuds after the rain. I am slowly relearning the healing strength of love, Slowly relearning the simple pleasures of humanity. Life is sweet, poignant, a drifting melody. *)* *)* *)*            daydream *)* *)* It was a warm and windy day, bittersweet in springtime, the trees, newly leaved, swayed in the warm, sweet melody. It was a day to kick stones along a riverbank and dream, before a night of jukebox music and cokes at the local diner. What kind of day are you? *)* *)* *)* Caress the Moment *)* *)* Caress the moment Let it rain and whisper gentle melodies, lusciously over your skin   and tingling nerve ends. Lap happily of the sweet, sweet honey   that this time drips   freely onto your tongue. Be aware of the hopeful breezes   and busy butterflies   of sane emotion   fluttering around and about. Caress the moment as it caresses you And care enough to share it And help it grow into forever. *)* *)* *)*   Somewhere   in summer   days are catching up to us   All those silent moments   When we would shout out our being    but    better not. *)* *)* *)* Hurrah the Saturnalia! *)* *)* Hurrah the Saturnalia! Bacchus reigns on high And all the world's a feast of fun So pass the pipe and pour the rum And flash a smile o'er everyone A twinkle of the eye. *)* Hail the merry Season! A boost for love & joy When packages that yell "surprise!" May dance before our merry eyes from "Santa Claus" that merry, wise & venerable old boy. *)* Joy to all ye revelers! It's time to join in play where roles are dropped and laughter raised We're all buffoons, so clowns be praised It's time to shout out loud, ablaze "Joy to all today!" *)* A very merry holiday to each and all I say! *)* *)* *)* Memories *)* *)* Memories, they weave a silken web in silence We talk of times past in gently measured tones,   sometimes bitter humor. We watch a bird circling in the distance,   and build patterns in the clouds. Last year I spied a mole burrowing in   the unmelted snow of early spring. Today I tend to think of you   smiling as you did last night when you first saw me after parting. *)* *)* *)* Reflections *)* *)* Walking long mornings into sunrise You stood by and took the earth into your arms like grainstalks I called you my Degas print. You spoke of the moon. 21 days and nights we tarried. Almost single, almost married. I loved you. You spoke to me in words of magic. Will you speak to me again? Hollywood houses and Paris cafes bowed to us. You said you needed work and companions. I cursed you in my mind, and went off seeking other follies. The days look longer now, feel somehow strange. Love is like a looking glass, reflecting change. *)* *)* *)* For Michael *)* *)* You were a mystery to me. A sensual stranger in the night Who brought me ecstasy and fantasy. What we shared wasn't love -- but an adventure -- and the love of adventure   draws you near me in certain dreams. And you are still a mystery, a symbol in my life   for certain exquisite longings. The time we were together was a magic time. I'm looking for that magic again. I am looking for another magical romance,   as I remember you and smile   without wondering where you are. *)* *)* *)* For Steve *)* *)* Dreaming, I sit here, Wondering, remembering your past As you've told it to me in hours of easy yarning. You look so young, asleep and dreaming   beyond my touch. Do you know that I think about you, Watch for hours, wait for your step at the door? Do you know that thoughts of you, silent dreams and yearnings, Are easily taking over my mind? You said that men are romantic, And women are strong and practical. I don't feel practical or strong, Just dreamy, and slowly Obsessed. *)* *)* *)* Rainbow Shop *)* *)* And she sold me rainbows dancing gaily 'cross the window   windchimes in light. And she smiled me daisies and bursting bright blooms of summer. And she told me, maybe, if you're looking in the right direction,   a miracle may grace your sight. And I smiled dancing   into the day. *)* *)* *)* Diamonds and Rust *)* *)* "Diamonds and Rust" like Joanie says memories, I mean lovers. I saw you tonight with your San Francisco cut and that old double-edged blade went piercing through my heart leaving me bleeding memories long through this autumn night of no-sleep blues and golds and rusty burnished reds that cut like diamonds. *)* I call to you in fevered dreams that leave me gasping, haunting all through the dreary day. Can't escape that sudden urgency. Just like days gone by. You don't answer. You don't hear me through all that mass -- your own driving imperative. We meet so seldom separation so long. We are like strangers. Yet times we have touched, one to one, to perfection, have been one strength and impulse have known such intimacy . . . I call to you now, Hearing your voice in every song of romance. *)* *)* *)* (dedicated to Danny McDermott, wherever        he may wander) *)* *)* He calls on the strength of the ocean, Fire burning in his heart calls on the spirit world to succor He who hath known tribulation, but not succumbed Made stronger and wiser knows power and wisdom Flow through the elements always there to call on For the pure though fiery of heart The saddened but strengthened of soul The man who would flow with the forces of nature In touch with the all. *)* *)* *)* Gathered on picnic table benches behind the home, hot in sunshine. Karen explains, fact by fact, how Gus became her inseparable soul. They beam together. He gives consoling hand to shoulder as she grieves children left with their father, her ex’s condemnation, stern paternal assertion of power. Saving his kin from this unrepentant whore. Karen cries, again – unrehearsed habit. She carries sadness; leaks occur. Gus hardly speaks. His troubled eyes, weary stance, gentle pull and pass of their pint bottle as he glances with deep countenance to each face around is eloquent conversation. Sweat smells, condensed alcohol, burnt tobacco, drying shit from local dogs, passing fumes from the road out front, all permeate, help set the mood. *)* They treat the stranger in their midst as a friend of long acquaintance, just another straggly member of a morphing crew. “Ain’t we all strangers of long acquaintance – everybody a wrapping of layers, appearing in colored bits along our drowsy companionship. Strange friends, welcome distractions, smoky mirrors that let us see as we discern.” Bonnie and Denise giggle at Big Dan’s pedantic speech. They solicit contributions for their liquor store expedition. Enough gets thrown in to make it a go. Go, girls. We’ll be waiting, celebrating what we can because here we are. *)* *)* *)* Patty We Hardly Knew Ya *)* *)* So they took you from your lover's home -- Steven who treated you like a child & later wrote memoirs & told them to take anything, but to leave him alone & they took you. & they locked you in a closet & used you for a media campaign to feed the hungry. You had never known hunger or privation. You were a princess of the ruling class. But you had known loneliness. You learned, finally, away from your university walls, about revolution. They called you Tania & plastered your picture on front page reports & post office billboards & the Six O'clock News. Your father wasn't the only Hearst who could make the papers. You became a phenomenon. You became a star. And the question on everyone's lips was: "Where is Patty Hearst?" & some were arrested & some were destroyed & the LA siege was just one of many brutal episodes in a bloody war movie, but you were a star. & all the "little people" -- the housewives & the students & the laborers of the working class took you as their own & discussed your motives & some applauded you & some said you deserved to be spanked & some said you were just a pawn, but pawn or queen, you were a star -- a media heroine & no one could ignore you as they had ignored your wealthy and powerful family. Month after month you led the headlines. The FBI was embarrassed by false leads on your whereabouts. All those trained bloodhounds searching for one little girl playing revolutionary. It could have been made in Hollywood, But never in CUBA or CHINA or Viet-Nam. You were so bold, standing in your beret & rifle in front of the SLA trademark (and we still may wonder on the significance of "Symbionese") Robbing banks in the tradition of Dunaway and Beatty -- a whirlwind crime spree to the glory of the "people." What did you know of the "people?" Those who cheered for the circus & those who condemned you at their mid-morning coffee breaks. Yes, now you belonged to them -- no longer the sheltered heiress. So they found you, the pigs, really quite by accident (the whole investigation being a gaily colored comedy of errors) & brought you to "justice." & Justice took its time-honored time drawing out the headlines -- arraignment through appeals & exposes ("New Times features Bill & Emily Harris: at home with the fugitives") And when they asked you for your profession on the official forms you ingenuously proclaimed to be "an unemployed Urban Guerrilla," which is certainly as valid as an unemployed newspaper heiress. And Squeaky Fromm tried to shoot the President, but you were still America's sweetheart -- poor little rich girl gone guerrilla. But then you were reprogrammed and reneged on your revolutionary ways. You cried for joy on being reunited with your "capitalist pig" parents & the family dog -- Just like any Long Island JAP or Sacramento newspaper heiress back from her hippie jaunt. And they locked you in your "country club jail" like they send a naughty child to her room -- "just to teach her a lesson." And still the interviewers came to continue the media comedy. What fun you had with your "Pardon Me" teeshirt & your jailhouse romance with your guard. (And Jerry Ford, who Squeaky tried to shoot, had pardoned Trickie Dick. And Susan Ford, the First Daughter, married her Secret Service guard. And it was the era of Post-Watergate when nothing could be too absurd for a world weary public worn out by the Stagflation Wars) And Waffling Jimmy Earl of the Georgia Peanut Dynasty was in the Whitehouse. And China was finally invading Viet-Nam And a fast-talking Orkian was the rage of prime time. And discomania mixed liberally with coke and 'ludes had taken over Amerikkka's youthful zeal. And Werner Erhard replaced Che Guevara in ex-Yippie Jerry Rubin's heart & so the wheel turns. & five years after the kidnapping, Patty Hearst finally went home. ... nondisclosed_email@example.com (libramoon)Wed, 05 May 2021 19:06:33 +0000 woodstock diary '73-'76https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p17649,from=rss#post17649https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p17649,from=rss#post17649Spring Medley Air clear as a free-running stream tumbling over country rocks and minty greenery Clear soft air of early spring Breathing satsang, reeling eternity, While running 'cross the straight-lined highway -- shouting "Hey sky, embrace me!" shouting I embrace the air and call it Love. I love you, love you, love you, love you I Form, Words, Action I in motion I in tumbling, stumbling, crazy image kaleidoscope over 'n' over love you, love you, love you, love you Capture the essence for an almost noninstant Capture the image of groping, grabbing, grasping gazing heartfelt on release, but love you, love you, love you, love you insane, insatiable cannot touch release of love you, love you, love you, love you Smothering in the too pure air. Hey, Springtime, Got some time to be wasting So I tracked a songbird on a still bare treebranch and joined it in song. What wonder the woods bring I can't contain it. Thistle and briar weeds Capture my imagination Grow wild and tangly All through my mind. Easter Gentle rosy raindrops of a mellow morning, Children make the day -- it's spring. I thought of God in Church this morning, nailed to His cross in long ago Jerusalem, arising to springtime, the earth's reawakening. It's a time for children and games of childhood, a time for playing with love, secret smiles and daisy chains. It's a time for the simple and natural A time for anointing the soul in peace after the ravages of winter. A time for gentle things like newborn kittens and flowerbuds after the rain. I am slowly relearning the healing strength of love, Slowly relearning the simple pleasures of humanity. Life is sweet, poignant, a drifting melody.            daydream It was a warm and windy day, bittersweet in springtime, the trees, newly leaved, swayed in the warm, sweet melody. It was a day to kick stones along a riverbank and dream, before a night of jukebox music and cokes at the local diner. What kind of day are you? Caress the Moment  Caress the moment  Let it rain and whisper gentle melodies,  lusciously over your skin   and tingling nerve ends.  Lap happily of the sweet, sweet honey   that this time drips   freely onto your tongue.  Be aware of the hopeful breezes   and busy butterflies   of sane emotion   fluttering around and about.  Caress the moment as it caresses you  And care enough to share it  And help it grow into forever.   Somewhere   in summer   days are catching up to us   All those silent moments   When we would shout out our being    but    better not.  Hurrah the Saturnalia! Hurrah the Saturnalia! Bacchus reigns on high And all the world's a feast of fun So pass the pipe and pour the rum And flash a smile o'er everyone  A twinkle of the eye.  Hail the merry Season! A boost for love & joy When packages that yell "surprise!" May dance before our merry eyes from "Santa Claus" that merry, wise  & venerable old boy.  Joy to all ye revelers! It's time to join in play where roles are dropped and laughter raised We're all buffoons, so clowns be praised It's time to shout out loud, ablaze  "Joy to all today!" A very merry holiday  to each and all I say! Memories  Memories, they weave a silken web in silence  We talk of times past in gently measured tones,   sometimes bitter humor.  We watch a bird circling in the distance,   and build patterns in the clouds.  Last year I spied a mole burrowing in   the unmelted snow of early spring.  Today I tend to think of you   smiling as you did last night  when you first saw me after parting. Reflections Walking long mornings into sunrise You stood by and took the earth into your arms  like grainstalks I called you my Degas print. You spoke of the moon. 21 days and nights we tarried. Almost single, almost married. I loved you. You spoke to me in words of magic. Will you speak to me again? Hollywood houses and Paris cafes bowed to us. You said you needed work and companions. I cursed you in my mind, and went off  seeking other follies. The days look longer now, feel somehow strange. Love is like a looking glass, reflecting change. For Michael  You were a mystery to me.  A sensual stranger in the night  Who brought me ecstasy and fantasy.  What we shared wasn't love --  but an adventure -- and the love of adventure   draws you near me in certain dreams.  And you are still a mystery, a symbol in my life   for certain exquisite longings.  The time we were together was a magic time.  I'm looking for that magic again.  I am looking for another magical romance,   as I remember you and smile   without wondering where you are. For Steve  Dreaming, I sit here,  Wondering, remembering your past  As you've told it to me in hours of easy yarning.  You look so young, asleep and dreaming   beyond my touch.  Do you know that I think about you,  Watch for hours, wait for your step at the door?  Do you know that thoughts of you,  silent dreams and yearnings,  Are easily taking over my mind?  You said that men are romantic,  And women are strong and practical.  I don't feel practical or strong,  Just dreamy, and slowly  Obsessed. Patty We Hardly Knew Ya So they took you from your lover's home -- Steven who treated you like a child & later wrote memoirs & told them to take anything, but to leave him alone & they took you. & they locked you in a closet & used you for a media campaign to feed the hungry. You had never known hunger or privation. You were a princess of the ruling class. But you had known loneliness. You learned, finally, away from your university walls, about revolution. They called you Tania & plastered your picture on front page reports & post office billboards & the Six O'clock News. Your father wasn't the only Hearst who could make the papers. You became a phenomenon. You became a star. And the question on everyone's lips was: "Where is Patty Hearst?" & some were arrested & some were destroyed & the LA siege was just one of many brutal episodes in a bloody war movie, but you were a star. & all the "little people" -- the housewives & the students & the laborers of the working class took you as their own & discussed your motives & some applauded you & some said you deserved to be spanked & some said you were just a pawn, but pawn or queen, you were a star -- a media heroine & no one could ignore you as they had ignored your wealthy and powerful family. Month after month you led the headlines. The FBI was embarrassed by false leads on your whereabouts. All those trained bloodhounds searching for one little girl playing revolutionary. It could have been made in Hollywood, But never in CUBA or CHINA or Viet-Nam. You were so bold, standing in your beret & rifle in front of the SLA trademark (and we still may wonder on the significance of "Symbionese") Robbing banks in the tradition of Dunaway and Beatty -- a whirlwind crime spree to the glory of the "people." What did you know of the "people?" Those who cheered for the circus & those who condemned you at their mid-morning coffee breaks. Yes, now you belonged to them -- no longer the sheltered heiress. So they found you, the pigs, really quite by accident (the whole investigation being a gaily colored comedy of errors) & brought you to "justice." & Justice took its time-honored time drawing out the headlines -- arraignment through appeals & exposes ("New Times features Bill & Emily Harris: at home with the fugitives") And when they asked you for your profession on the official forms you ingenuously proclaimed to be "an unemployed Urban Guerrilla," which is certainly as valid as an unemployed newspaper heiress. And Squeaky Fromm tried to shoot the President, but you were still America's sweetheart -- poor little rich girl gone guerrilla. But then you were reprogrammed and reneged on your revolutionary ways. You cried for joy on being reunited with your "capitalist pig" parents & the family dog -- Just like any Long Island JAP or Sacramento newspaper heiress back from her hippie jaunt. And they locked you in your "country club jail" like they send a naughty child to her room -- "just to teach her a lesson." And still the interviewers came to continue the media comedy. What fun you had with your "Pardon Me" teeshirt & your jailhouse romance with your guard. (And Jerry Ford, who Squeaky tried to shoot, had pardoned Trickie Dick. And Susan Ford, the First Daughter, married her Secret Service guard. And it was the era of Post-Watergate when nothing could be too absurd for a world weary public worn out by the Stagflation Wars) And Waffling Jimmy Earl of the Georgia Peanut Dynasty was in the Whitehouse. And China was finally invading Viet-Nam And a fast-talking Orkian was the rage of prime time. And discomania mixed liberally with coke and 'ludes had taken over Amerikkka's youthful zeal. And Werner Erhard replaced Che Guevara in ex-Yippie Jerry Rubin's heart & so the wheel turns. & five years after the kidnapping, Patty Hearst finally went home. Rainbow Shop And she sold me rainbows  dancing gaily 'cross the window   windchimes in light. And she smiled me daisies  and bursting bright blooms of summer. And she told me, maybe,  if you're looking in  the right direction,   a miracle may grace your sight. And I smiled  dancing   into the day. Diamonds and Rust "Diamonds and Rust" like Joanie says memories, I mean lovers. I saw you tonight with your San Francisco cut and that old double-edged blade went piercing through my heart leaving me bleeding memories long through this autumn night of no-sleep blues and golds and rusty burnished reds that cut like diamonds. I call to you in fevered dreams that leave me gasping, haunting all through the dreary day. Can't escape that sudden urgency. Just like days gone by. You don't answer. You don't hear me through all that mass -- your own driving imperative. We meet so seldom separation so long. We are like strangers. Yet times we have touched, one to one, to perfection, have been one strength and impulse have known such intimacy . . . I call to you now, Hearing your voice in every song of romance. (dedicated to Danny McDermott, wherever        he may wander) He calls on the strength of the ocean, Fire burning in his heart calls on the spirit world to succor He who hath known tribulation, but not succumbed Made stronger and wiser knows power and wisdom Flow through the elements always there to call on For the pure though fiery of heart The saddened but strengthened of soul The man who would flow with the forces of nature In touch with the all. Gathered on picnic table benches behind the home, hot in sunshine. Karen explains, fact by fact, how Gus became her inseparable soul. They beam together. He gives consoling hand to shoulder as she grieves children left with their father, her ex’s condemnation, stern paternal assertion of power. Saving his kin from this unrepentant whore. Karen cries, again – unrehearsed habit. She carries sadness; leaks occur. Gus hardly speaks. His troubled eyes, weary stance, gentle pull and pass of their pint bottle as he glances with deep countenance to each face around is eloquent conversation. Sweat smells, condensed alcohol, burnt tobacco, drying shit from local dogs, passing fumes from the road out front, all permeate, help set the mood. They treat the stranger in their midst as a friend of long acquaintance, just another straggly member of a morphing crew. “Ain’t we all strangers of long acquaintance – everybody a wrapping of layers, appearing in colored bits along our drowsy companionship. Strange friends, welcome distractions, smoky mirrors that let us see as we discern.” Bonnie and Denise giggle at Big Dan’s pedantic speech. They solicit contributions for their liquor store expedition. Enough gets thrown in to make it a go. Go, girls. We’ll be waiting, celebrating what we can because here we are. nondisclosed_email@example.com (libramoon)Wed, 05 May 2021 17:49:01 +0000