Thin AIr . . .

When I woke up today I had all that I want
Everything that I did brought desired results
How could this be? All the rules have been changed
In the pool where I drowned I am swimming again.

But of course I am wrong.  How could I understand
When my society tells me how tall I stand?
Then I take it inside and wait for life’s kiss
Which is sure to arrive ‘cause I’m riding my bliss.

What did I do? The world holds me up
Invisible hands grant the nourishing cup
Have I found a way that has always been there?
It seems to me it came out of thin air.

The child waking up brings the old crone to tears
Pushing through my disguise see the tips of my ears
How could this be all the rules have been changed
In the pool where I drowned I am swimming again.

What did I do? The world holds me up
Invisible hands grant the nourishing cup
Have I found a way that has always been there?
It seems to me it came out of thin air.

When I blindly reach out to what I cannot see
Grace reappears and it rescues me
I’m not what I feel, I’m not what you think
I’m only what is and what isn’t in sync.

What did I do? The world holds me up
Invisible hands grant the nourishing cup
Have I found a way that has always been there?
It seems to me it came out of thin air.


Out Of Thin Air
written by John P. Graboski
(OHO rehearsal recording-
Jay Graboski, David Reeve and Ray Jozwiak are OHO)





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Don't Drink the Water . . .

. . . or, in this case, don't eat the burgers. . . 
Can't, in any good conscience, endorse the food they serve at that Scottish restaurant on the the clown commercials.  But I can say that the Ronald McDonald House is a breath of fresh air in world where many seem to place continuously decreasing value on the lives of their fellow human beings.  I had the opportunity to provide some Gonzo Piano music at mealtime at one such house and found it a wonderful experience.


(from http://www.rmhc.org/ronald-mcdonald-house)
Many families travel far from home and spend several weeks or months to get treatment for their seriously ill or injured children – a long time to be away or to divide a family. And, for children facing a serious medical crisis, nothing seems scarier than not having mom and dad close by for love and support. A Ronald McDonald House is that “home-away-from-home” for families so they can stay close by their hospitalized child at little or no cost.

Our Houses are built on the simple idea that nothing else should matter when a family is focused on the health of their child – not where they can afford to stay, where they will get their next meal or where they will lay their head at night to rest. We believe that when a child is hospitalized the love and support of family is as powerful as the strongest medicine prescribed.

. . .Families are stronger when they are together, which helps in the healing process. By staying at a Ronald McDonald House, parents also can better communicate with their child’s medical team and keep up with complicated treatment plans when needed. They can also focus on the health of their child, rather than grocery shopping, cleaning or cooking meals.

. . . When your child is sick, you want the best care possible – even if it is hundreds or thousands of miles away. The Ronald McDonald House allows families to access specialized medical treatment by providing a place to stay at little or sometimes no cost. . .

What do you think?
Tell me at
http://www.rayjozwiak.com/guestbook.html

My latest release, Black & White Then Back,
can be downloaded digitally at:

(or you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
your browser:  http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/rayjozwiak3)

Also, be sure to visit:
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A Man. . .

                                                                               Orson Welles from The 3rd Man

I know a man who tries too hard
'Cause he wants to be liked
Both near and far
But it's not all that simple
A story to tell
And I'm sure it all started
Way back when
He was only a child
The whole world laying ahead of him
He couldn't get what he craved
No matter how much he tried
An uphill battle awaited
Then something clicked inside

Maybe he's okay
Not quite as bad as he seems
Am I expecting too much
It's not intentionally
Maybe it isn't polite
Looking so critically
Maybe I do it because
He's just not like me

I know a man who talks so much
He's got nothing to say
But it's never enough
And it's like second nature
He's as social can be
But the topic is always 'about me'
From his self-centered view
His egoist perspective
Subject of interest he's found
His world revolving around him
The real one beyond his touch
With real people there too

Please won't you understand I don't want every man
Doing just what I would do or moving the way that I move
or the the way that I sit or stand

Maybe he's okay
Not quite as bad as he seems
Am I expecting too much
It's not intentionally
Maybe it isn't polite
Looking so critically
Maybe I do it because
He's just not like me

I Know A Man (Just Not Like Me)
©2012 Raymond M. Jozwiak



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We are. . .

. . . seven

—A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
—Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said,
And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! — I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be."

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.

"And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

"So in the churchyard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little maid's reply,
"O master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'T was throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her will,
And say, "Nay, we are seven!"

(We Are Seven, by William Wordsworth)

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AMBIENCE & WINE

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