Look with your eyes, not with your hands.


Such a minute fraction of this life do we live: so much is sleep, tooth-brushing, waiting for mail, for metamorphosis, for those sudden moments of incandescence: unexpected, but once one knows them, one can live life in the light of their past and the hope of their future.



A grad student muses on her life, film, friends, politics, reality televizzle, and music.

 
Central Park N'West

There is a song by Ian Hunter that I fell in love with last summer, and sometimes it's nice to fall in love with something all over again.

The remaining days will surely go by too quickly, there is too much to cram into them - packing Jon's office and shipping it off to Maine *blah,* film research trips to obsecure little places - just too much to do, too many people I should have seen a long time ago, and just having to pick up and plunk myself back to the middle of nowhere all over again. Too much moving lately - too much leaving good things - and too much feeling that everything is for a limited time only. Yesterday (a trip to Rodeo bar and the remote lounge) with a bunch of friends reminded me how good things can be - and it was just what I needed. This is the best remote lounge portrait yet.

Just the same... with a week left, here's the lyrics to the song I've listened to about 6 times already tonight.

The Gulf and Western Garbage
Just ain't the prettiest smell
When you're sleeping on the 4th floor up
It's like a living hell
New York's finest rounding up the bums
The firemen get no rest,
and ambulances signal death, on Central Park 'n' West.

Now there ain't no sheets upon my bed,
just a mattress and some wine.
The rain is pouring through the night
and I'm glad my life is mine.
When Frank Carillo plays guitar
trying to get it off his chest.
He gets the words he needs tonight
on Central Park 'n' West.

And I think, I think, I think, I think, I think it's the best,
when I'm locked in the middle of New York city on Central Park 'n' West
and I know, I know, I know, I know, I know it's a mess,
but you've got to be crazy to live in the city, and New York city's the best.

And we all want just someone just like me
in the city we call home.
She leaves me sometimes when I write,
'cause I write better on my own.
Bag ladies take my dollars
put my conscience to the test.
But waitresses give me coffee free
on Central Park 'n' West.

So sing soul woman, sing the songs
it's time to sing them now.
I'm getting more than high from hearin' 'em
don't sing them quiet, sing them loud.
For you sang with the best of them
but now you're just a guest.
I tell you we'll get a hotel room
on Central Park 'n' West.

'Cause I think, I think, I think, I think, I think it's the best,
when I'm locked in the middle of New York city on Central Park 'n' West
and I know, I know, I know, I know, I know it's a mess,
but you've got to be crazy to live in the city, and New York city's the best.

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, oh yeah.

I think, I think, I think, I think, I think it's the best,
when I'm locked in the middle of New York city on Central Park 'n' West.

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know it's a mess,
but you've got to be crazy to live in the city, and New York city's the best


posted by lmjasinski at 11:21 PM