Old Metal & Some Images

I'm listening to Metallica. It seemed so awful in high school, except for the slow songs, like "Nothing Else Matters". Now that I'm older, and I've heard REALLY crappy stuff, this sounds like glam rock. I mean, the metal slashermashermixedbits stuff these days is terrible, I think. Just noise without melody. I can actually sing along to Metallica I'm finding, especially this "Nothing Else Matters" song I'm playing now. And I actually like some AC/DC songs. I remember sitting in church to a lecture, when I was very young, as they played it backwards on a record player and said the guy was saying "devil" subliminally or something.

It's actually good musicianship here, though. I just don't like the crash and clatter stuff.

I meant to write TTSOMLs but instead I did some research on Princess Di. There's not very much online. Books are a little better. Maybe someone can understand why I feel a connection with her in a way. I understand what people can do to you. Poor Diana, though, to be compared to me! I will be happy to be the very sad, degenerate, and gauche kindred spirit. I feel I cheapen her memory by trying to make any comparison at all, in a lot of ways. I don't mean to compare in every way, but there are a lot of things I think I understand about her and what was done. And I know how it is to have enemies attempt to cover themselves by saying you're mentally ill, or paranoid. I suppose too, how it is to be very intelligent and have an insatiable curiosity for things and good research skills, but little formal "degrees" or paperwork to announce to the world that while you may not have accomplished work to merit a paper, you still have an accomplished and active mind. I've met a couple of people from a particular country lately, won't say which, who have been so kind...

I also read, for the first time, tonight, that Diana was actively studying the Koran when she was with Hasnat Khan. Which is interesting and puts a far more religious spin on things. I think, if it was not an accident (and I don't believe it was), it was either for religious reasons or because she uncovered damaging information about landmines and the governments complicity. Or it could have been a combination of both. Somehow, as much as her family didn't get along with her all the time, I don't "feel" they did it. I've always "known" the Queen did not do it. That's my thinking at least. I don't believe Charles would, directly, but I do take Diana's concerns seriously. Why did she think he was plotting? things taken from a small excerpt in a letter can never define all the details. I mean, my half hour or even several hours of trying to explain to people everything that's happened to me, still doesn't add up enough. It's far too complex. I've had to spend countless hours getting the details (and not even all of them) down, so that the big picture is filled in properly. It's confusing, because of all the different problems, but there are some things which finally line up in a big way. Taken out of context, any part of my blog could sound paranoid or nuts. It must be taken as a whole and I'm not even done yet. So, I do wonder about what information she was receiving, either on her own or from others. And if Charles was not plotting, or someone was not doing so on his behalf, who put the idea in her head, to cover and mask and confuse what was staged to occur later? I just think somehow it wasn't her family.

I think it was a religious group, with concerns, or someone in government. Unless, Diana had extremely damaging and embarrassing information on her family that she had threatened to expose and the family was getting nervous she was becoming "the loose cannon" (which adjective is a Badge Of Honor to the Free-Spirit).

Still thinking about Diana. I know I will revisit what happened with her once I sort my own things out. I am able to take some comfort, knowing other people have gone through similiar things, jealousy and hatred and fear against them, and been harassed. I read, for example, she was not just photographed and "hounded", but, details are always missing, such as the fact that some reporters would actually jeer and make fun of her, and say horrid things, just to get a reaction. We don't hear about that sort of thing. She wasn't just "hounded", she was stalked by vicious people.

I listened to Stella Maris again, after seeing a photo of K-2.

Maybe I should write some images and then TTSOMLs.

on a beach with white sands and a palm tree to the right
empty net hammock
water reaching out to the edge of columbus' orange half
ripples out and rushing reeds in
pebbles at the feet
hut to the left, thached roof, inside with a desk and paper
armchairs and a small bar
with a window looking out for pirates
coconut capers, banana bedlam
straws for lutes, birds above laughing
"don't build your house on the sandy land,
don't build your city near the shore"
sunday school rhyme
psalty singing with a fat book underarm
women here reading romance and intrigue
their men undetected in their philandering and investment plans
a mystery under their noses
stories at their fingertips
stroking through hair, down backs, never parting
cracking, getting through
housekeepers sweep through the huts
conversations and notes
and clothing strewn across a room
is material for the laundry and their own
novels. someone has to pick the hair
out of the combs and brushes.
sunset red violet orange
amarillo in a thin line at the bottom
near the egg yolk
sliding into the pan of oil
taken from the backs of men who swim
protected from the sun
from the wife
everything but the all-knowing eye
of the housekeeper
*******************************************
bzzing, bzzz, pssst!
bees, bees, bees,
swarming the hives
field of clover
riding trails all around
bees at the knees of the horses
chasing flowers for a kiss
before they are eaten alive
crunch, munch, munch, chomp, grind
clover is sweeter than honey
let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth
for better are thy loves than wine
juice dripping from the bit,
green on metal, green teeth
bees, bees, bees
kissing the clover
clover calling out for an uprising
against the pulverizing mash and gnashing
of teeth against their soft petal skin
let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth
for better are thy loves than wine
snuffling nose dripping snot onto the
luckiest of fields, with hundreds of thousands
of 4-leaf clovers boasting cottonball heads
cheerful popped corn partying
nodding for the descent and consumation of the bee
a butterfly kiss
a white butterfly joins to alight
fluttering away with delight
stealing nectar from a fertile flower or two
hush, psst!, psst!, bzzz, says the bee,
hide yourself, close up tight
tonight, you will die
to be born again
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zippers.
teeth open and close
who is sticking their tongue out at me now?

zip up, zip your lips
keep them sealed but take this piece of chocolate
for your consolation prize

loose lips sink ships lassie
loose hips will be your undoing
zippers are so fast

what did you store away?
where is it buried? post office? security box?
the locket. what happened to the locket?

zippers.
teeth open and close
who is grim and giving me the silent treatment?

you zip up so well
in that sweater, with the secrets
spilling out of your eyes
*******************************************

lower a basket for me, that i may jump in
and sail down like the baby moses
a basket for me, to jump in
to soar above the clouds in the sky
a basket that i might have
for drawing water from the well
i'm thirsty and i asked you for a glass of water
when water must have been in scarce supply
send in a case of baskets
after i've lost my arms and legs
flower baskets and food baskets,
hell, send me a fruit basket too
i like to be reminded how fruit is preserved when it
falls from the vine
falling out of line in so many ways
********************************************************

dinner with the moon again, me and you
a date with the moon
when my love will come again, i cannot know too soon
faithful though you wax and wane
never did you leave
you busy me and bury me but turn me on your sleeve
dinner with the moon again, an evening
will not last
repast, i shirk and scorn my duties now
for something which has kept me
but has not been steadfast
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