Wednesday, 31 December 2008

Kathy's song, Paul Simon, sung by Art Garfunkel, (written in 1965.)

Paul Simon - 1965

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I


  1. Hand quivering, finger refusing to unbend, I closed my eyes to shut out the dreaded YouTube image - my phobia full fledged. And so I struck the bar to click and hoped the arrow pointed in the right direction. Melodious notes floated in the air around me, and I opened my eyes in wonder: my weird phobia tamed for a moment in time to listen to Kathy's Song.


    there but for the grace of you, go I ...



  3. RDM, I know you hate Youtube fiercely. If I was youtube, I would desist all my tubery in order to gain your approval. sometimes, though, it's worth setting aside your distrust of the media, which i suspect is bolstered by slow loading times. with a faster connection much youtube frustration fades.
    Youtube,like the bookstore, is full of dross. Like the bookstore, and like the seashore, it harbours treasures for the discerning beachcomber.
    Simon and Garfunkel are amongst those treasures. Between them, they have it all, Paul's songwriting, and Art's plaintive voice

  4. Tony, Gary, the compliments of the season be upon you.
    May the new year bring happiness and contentment.

  5. Soubriquet, the youtube feeling isn't one so much of hate as it is of extreme frustration - like getting lost in a labyrinth of strange, jangly images and sounds and just 'teeny bopper' junk and badly done quasi-porn - it's sensory overload at its worst. i need a written map and a VERY GOOD REASON before i even dare enter ....

    Bookstores are better: a bit quieter, but I always go with a plan - hit the poetry section first, onto fiction to look up favorite authors, an occasional foray into non-fiction, and now i'll probably be sneaking peeks at ceramic art books, railway traveling, scotland and such.... but beyond that, bookstores become a bit overwhelming as well (wrapping paper, cards, booklets, cd's, the ubiquitous starbucks ...);

    Now beaches??? ahhh-i could do beaches for a lifetime. with the soothing sounds of waves: lapping at times, roaring at others .... i am guaranteed a treasure each time just by the sheer beauty of the sea and sand and dunes mother and aunt purchased a condominium (no high rise deal) looking out over Saint Andrews Bay in Panama City, FLA proper (not to be confused the beach strip known as the 'Redneck Riveria!' which i avoid until the mulettes threaten burning me at the stake if i don't take them to goofy golf. across the bay i see my favorite island: Shell Island. you can catch a multitude of 'tourist' ferries to the south end of the island. you can ride a ferry to it from the state park which is where i generally go settle in for beach time (less spring break types)... but my favorite favorite is renting a pontoon boat for a day (only $100); packing in food/water supplies; towels, nets on a pole; buckets and small shovels .... all the stuff a family of now 4 needs - and haphazardly navigate my way to the north end of the island where an air force dock exists. here i find complete and utter solitude. pure white sugar sand next to blue green gulf waters .... only bird foot prints on the sand. hermit crabs scuttling for their next shell... yes. treasures are here. i invite you to come 'navigate' with me one day, and i shall share my island haven gladly with you.


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