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Yes, McTag. The reference is from The Song Of Solomon. The idea of the short story was that when an inmate from an asylum escaped and captured a naive woman of the mountains, all he did was quote beautiful poetry to her, especially from Solomon. He didn't hurt her, but when she was rescued, she had touched the beauty of the world and would never be the same again. How sad and how beautiful.

Listeners, in doing some more research, I found something very interesting.

First Poe's poem:

I
Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III
Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now-now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV
Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people-ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.



Now the discovery:

Sergei Rachmaninov patterned his Bells of Moscow after this poem. It seems that Russians and others have been fascinated with the sounds of bells. Why is that, do you suppose?

Artist - Leonard Cohen
Album - Songs Of Love And Hate
Lyrics - Diamonds In The Mine

The woman in blue, she's asking for revenge,
the man in white -- that's you -- says he has no friends.
The river is swollen up with rusty cans
and the trees are burning in your promised land.
And there are no letters in the mailbox,
and there are no grapes upon the vine,
and there are no chocolates in the boxes anymore,
and there are no diamonds in the mine.

Well, you tell me that your lover has a broken limb,
you say you're kind of restless now and it's on account of him.
Well, I saw the man in question, it was just the other night,
he was eating up a lady where the lions and Christians fight.

And there are no letters in the mailbox
and there are no grapes upon the vine,
and there are no chocolates in the boxes anymore,
and there are no diamonds in the mine.

(You tell them now)

Ah, there is no comfort in the covens of the witch,
some very clever doctor went and sterilized the bitch,
and the only man of energy, yes the revolution's pride,
he trained a hundred women just to kill an unborn child.

And there are no letters in the mailbox,
oh no, there are no, no grapes upon your vine,
and there are, there are no chocolates in your boxes anymore,
and there are no diamonds in your mine.
And there are no letters in the mailbox,
and there are no grapes upon the vine,
and there are no chocolates in your boxes anymore,
and there are no diamonds in your mine.

and thus spake Zarathustra and Zen, edgar.

Karma Man
David Bowie

Fingertip sun at sideshow stalls, they throw the balls
At coconut fur that hides behind coloured shades that blind your eyes
Every child's mother holds an ice-cream cone, they circle round
Perceived unknown by an eye that peers from a hole in the tent where no one goes
A figure sitting cross-legged on the floor he's clogged and clothed in saffron robes
His beads are all he owns

Slow down, slow down
Someone must have said that slow him down
Slow down, slow down
It's pictured on the arms of the Karma Man

Fairy tale skin, depicting scenes from human zoos
Impermanent toys like peace and war a gentle face you've seen before
Karma Man tattooed on your side, the wheel of life
I see my times and who I've been I only live now and I don't know why
I struggle hard to take these pictures in, but
All my friends can see is just the pinkness of his skin

Slow down, slow down
Someone must have said that slowed him down
Slow down, slow down
It's pictured on the arms of the Karma Man

Slow down, slow down
Someone must have said that slowed him down
Slow down, slow down
It's pictured on the arms of the Karma Man

okay, i've covered the zen, in the previous post, now for the zarathustra

Space Oddity
David Bowie

Ground Control to Major Tom
Ground Control to Major Tom
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on

Ground Control to Major Tom
Commencing countdown, engines on
Check ignition and may God's love be with you

Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five,
Four, Three, Two, One, Liftoff

This is Ground Control to Major Tom
You've really made the grade
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear
Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare

This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today

For here
Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I can do

Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles
I'm feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell me wife I love her very much... she knows

Ground Control to Major Tom
Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you....

Here am I floating round my tin can
Far above the Moon
Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I can do.


Ashes to Ashes
David Bowie

Do you remember a guy that's been
In such an early song
I've heard a rumour from Ground Control
Oh no, don't say it's true

They got a message from the Action Man
"I'm happy, hope you're happy too
I've loved all I've needed love
Sordid details following"

The shrieking of nothing is killing
Just pictures of Jap girls in synthesis and I
Ain't got no money and I ain't got no hair
But I'm hoping to kick but the planet it's glowing

Ashes to ashes, funk to funky
We know Major Tom's a junkie
Strung out in heaven's high
Hitting an all-time low

Time and again I tell myself
I'll stay clean tonight
But the little green wheels are following me
Oh no, not again
I'm stuck with a valuable friend
"I'm happy, hope you're happy too"
One flash of light but no smoking pistol

I never done good things
I never done bad things
I never did anything out of the blue, woh-o-oh
Want an axe to break the ice
Wanna come down right now

Ashes to ashes, funk to funky
We know Major Tom's a junkie
Strung out in heaven's high
Hitting an all-time low

My mother said to get things done
You'd better not mess with Major Tom
My mother said to get things done
You'd better not mess with Major Tom
My mother said to get things done
You'd better not mess with Major Tom
My mother said to get things done
You'd better not mess with Major Tom

ah, dj. David Bowie and his Karma. I think we may all be a little afraid that he is right.

Europe is asleep and the eyes of Argos stay eternally awake, would that I could, listeners.

Good morning (I guess) WA2K radio.

Today is father's day so this is for my dad who always sang it when I was a kid. Let's see if I can remember the words, listeners:

Oh, the old apple tree in the orchard,
Brings back sweep memories,
It reminds me of my pappy,
Who was handsome, young and happy,
When he planted the old apple tree.

So say goodbye (say goodbye)
Goodbye, say goodbye to the old apple tree.
Well if my pappy had a knowed it,
He'd been sorry that he growed it,
Cause he died on the old apple tree.

Well, one day pappy took widow Norton,
Out on a jamboree,
When he brought her home at sunup
Brother Norton raised his gun up,
And he chased pappy up in the tree.

repeat chorus.

When the neighbors came after poor pappy,
Up in the tree was he,
They took a rope and then they strung him
By the neck and then they hung him,
From a branch of the old apple tree.

Chorus.

Well, my poor pappy lies in the orchard,
Out of his misery,
They put the apples in a basket,
Cut the tree down for a casket,
Now my poor pappy's gone with the tree.

When I think back on that song, folks, it was terrible, but I never thought about it at the time.

(edited to compensate for eyes full of sleep)

Early morning news:

Sat Jun 18, 2:17 PM ET



ROUBAIX, France - Robert de Niro has paid tribute to his father, a painter whose works are featured in a new exhibit in northeastern France.



"This is a magnificent exhibit," an emotional De Niro said of the 56 works of his father, Robert de Niro Sr., who passed away more than a decade ago.

Dabbing his eyes, he added, "I'm sad that my father is not here."

The exhibit, in the recently opened La Piscine Museum in the town of Roubaix, is the first European retrospective of the elder De Niro's paintings. In the 60s, the elder De Niro spent several years living in France, studying Matisse, Manet, Gaugin, Bonnard and other painters who influenced his work.

That comes as quite a surprise, does it not?

Exhibit taking place here, till 09/04/2005:

this was one of my fathers favourite hymns

In The Garden
Johnny Cash

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses

And he walks with me
And he talks with me
And he tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known

He speaks and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing

And he walks with me
And he talks with me
And he tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known

I'd stay in the garden with Him
'Tho the night around me be falling
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling

And He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known

Ah, dj. That was one of my mom's favorites. Thanks for that garden, my friend.

Francis, I am still looking at that magnificent photograph. The fan window reflected in that water is breath taking, and the periphery of the statues is a complement of the entire exhibit. Thank you for bringing it to life.

De Niro's biography is complex, listeners.

Born: 17 August 1943
Where: New York City, New York, USA
Awards: 2 Oscars, 1 Golden Globe
Height: 5' 9"



Robert De Niro was born in New York, New York on August 17th, 1943. His ancestry - strangely, given his tight cinematic connection with the Mafia - is more Irish than Italian. His parents were both respected artists. His father, Robert Snr, was a painter, sculptor and poet, an abstract expressionist by style. His mother, Virginia Admiral was also a painter. The couple, who'd met as Hans Hoffman's Provincetown painting class, divorced when young Robert was only two, the boy being raised by his mother. Robert Snr continued with his art, Virginia eventually opened a typesetting and printing business. A biography, released in 2004 by John Baxter, claimed that Robert Sr was in fact gay and spent only a few months with Virginia before separating, later enjoying affairs with the poet Robert Duncan, as well as Tennessee Williams and Jackson Pollock. Robert Jr, as ever, would make no comment.




Robert Jr caught the acting bug early, appearing as The Cowardly Lion in a local production of The Wizard Of Oz at the age of 10. So keen was he (even as a boy he was intensely focused) that, at 13, his mother, recognising his desire and ability, sent him to a progressive private school, New York's High School Of Music And Art. But Robert wasn't quite ready. He dropped out and spent his time roaming the streets of Little Italy with a no-mark street gang, picking up the nickname Bobby Milk for his deathly white complexion. His father openly disapproved of his new "friends" and the pair fell out, though the rift wasn't permanent. When De Niro's father took off for a couple of years in Paris only to slip into depression and destitution, it was Robert Jr, aged only 18, who flew over there to bring him home.

(once again edited for dumb stuff)

Good Morning to all!

Birthday list will be short today since I noticed that Malcolm MacDowell and Charles Coburn and some others are listed on the "Today In History Page" and that is incorrect, so I'm not using that site today:

1566 King James I, king of Great Britain (Edinburgh, Scotland; died 1625)
1623 Blaise Pascal, philosopher/physicist/mathematician (Clermont-Ferrand, France; died 1662)
1783 Thomas Sully, portrait painter (Horncastle, Lincolnshire, England; died 1872)
1896 Wallis Warfield Simpson, Duchess of Windsor, for whom King Edward VIII abdicated (Blue Ridge Summit, PA; died 1986)
1897 Moe Howard, comedian and member of the Three Stooges (Brooklyn, NY; died 1975)
1902 Guy Lombardo, bandleader (London, Ontario, Canada; died 1977)
1903 Lou Gehrig, baseball player (New York, NY; died 1941)
1910 Abe Fortas, Supreme Court justice (Memphis, TN; died 1982)
1919 Louis Jourdan, actor (Marseilles, France)
1928 Nancy Marchand, actress (Buffalo, NY)
1930 Gena Rowlands, actress (Cambria, WI)
1947 Salman Rushdie, writer whom the Iranian government targeted (Bombay, India)
1947 Phylicia Ayers-Allen Rashad Houston, actress (Clair-Bill Cosby)
1954 Kathleen Turner, actress (Springfield, MO)
1962 Paula Abdul, dancer/choreographer (San Fernando, CA)

Thanks, Raggedy. My word, folks! There's Wally Simpson again--"...the woman he loved...."

Miss your pictures, honey. Can't think of one single thing to read to our audience concerning your celebs.

A quote by Blaise Pascal : " le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît pas"...

That's a cryptic quote, Francis. Had to translate it, of course.

This has been an odd day, listeners, and here, it's just beginning. The sun has risen in the East with an audacity that leaves me with a chill.

"The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing" - Blaise Pascal

Thank you! What's your name again? Ah, yes. It's Francis. Mine is Letty. <smile>

"...what's in a name--a rose by any other name would smell as sweet..."

And that's my apostrophe for the day to the County Paris.

Well, here's a Frenchman for Francis:

and Moe Howard

Well, I must be off for a bit. Not feeling well.

Station break:

This is cyber space, WA2K radio.