Sailing on an emerald sea.
Advertisements and color photographs
Don’t mean that much to me.
Poolside cocktails;
Love in the sand.
It’s like a dream that just came true.
I just don’t know how much that I can stand.
Many temptations are swimming round my head.
So many places that you’d think I’d like to be instead but . . .
I’m always thinking of you.
I hope you think of me too.
I only want to be where you are.
Riding to the Wellington Club.
I’d have a driver and he’d take me there.
I’d just sit back and put my two feet up.
Money doesn’t measure the man.
All you can do is spend it; spend again.
It only goes so far. You can’t pretend.
Many times over I’ve seen it slip away.
I’d like to live that life sometime
But baby not today. Cause . . .
I get a feeling when I’m with you
That nothing else captures the same way.
You know it’s true.
If you see the pyramids rise
Above the desert sand into the sky,
A greater sight you just won’t realize.
River fights its way to the sea.
Worthy opponents just can’t hinder it.
It always gets to where it wants to be.
Just like the river, I see my destiny.
It’s right there in your very eyes
Each time you look at me and . . .
Sailing on an emerald sea.
Advertisements and color photographs
Don’t mean that much to me.
Poolside cocktails;
Love in the sand.
It’s like a dream that just came true.
I just don’t know how much that I can stand.
Many temptations are swimming round my head.
So many places that you’d think I’d like to be instead but . . .
I’m always thinking of you.
I hope you think of me too.
I only want to be where you are.
Riding to the Wellington Club.
I’d have a driver and he’d take me there.
I’d just sit back and put my two feet up.
Money doesn’t measure the man.
All you can do is spend it; spend again.
It only goes so far. You can’t pretend.
Many times over I’ve seen it slip away.
I’d like to live that life sometime
But baby not today. Cause . . .
I get a feeling when I’m with you
That nothing else captures the same way.
You know it’s true.
If you see the pyramids rise
Above the desert sand into the sky,
A greater sight you just won’t realize.
River fights its way to the sea.
Worthy opponents just can’t hinder it.
It always gets to where it wants to be.
Just like the river, I see my destiny.
It’s right there in your very eyes
Each time you look at me and . . .
The black coffee’s aroma hangs thick like a cloud every morning.
He sorts through paisleys and patterns and stripes on the door,
As he lifts up a vain little finger to stifle the blood
From a close shave in the battle of life.
The late night crowd’s returning from an all night bout of drinking
While he’s all-consumed by grand delusions also known as wishful thinking.
His star quality seems to escape everyone
Who would be in position to help him.
Still he goes off each day in anticipation of all
Of the thrill and the joy that one feels
When he’s making interment arrangements.
He’s misunderstood.
A book a song a TV sitcom part you’d miss for blinking
Or a winning lotto ticket in his hand are only wishful thinking.
Oh its nobody’s fault but his own.
So few offers come over the phone.
But he still perseveres faces up to his fears
That can cloud the intentions and bring on the tears.
Still his spirits get lower each day that this program’s protracted.
Moment by moment it takes all he has to go on.
But he just grits his teeth, charges in, slings the arrows back into
The face of outrageous misguided conclusions.
And even though he’ll never die a pauper or a rich king,
He’s just not content to spend his time on anything but wishful thinking.
Oh the groceries and the bills aren’t paid by talking or by drinking.
So he just resumes the grind lacklusterly and does his wishful thinking.
(from Pianogonzology entry #1 of February 9, 2011; 2900 plus posts ago)
". . . I've always been curious about blogging and wary of tweeting. I mean, who really wants to know every fleeting thought that crosses my warped little mind? And I base this curiosity and wariness on my own tastes. In all honesty, I have little to no interest in the fleeting thoughts of too many people. If I think about it hard enough, I may be able to conjure up two or three names. But pop 'icons', actors/actresses (or other 'entertainers'), media 'celebrities', 'news' commentators, talk show hosts and politicians for the most part, have difficulty enough formulating a coherent sentence let alone expressing any thought, sentiment or observation about a topic that would be of even the most remote interest to ME. . . So having said THAT, I begin my first blog. Yes, the thoughts, sentiments, observations, incoherent (and hopefully a few coherent) sentences and fleeting thoughts of MINE for all to see! . . . What the $*&#k was I thinking????
Other Ray Jozwiak Offerings
(To Access all Ray Jozwiak - Gonzo Piano music you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
your browser: http://www.cdbaby.com/Artist/RayJozwiak)
The black coffee’s aroma hangs thick like a cloud every morning
He sorts through paisleys and patterns and stripes on the door
As he lifts up a vain little finger to stifle the blood
From a close shave in the battle of life
The late night crowd’s returning from an all night bout of drinking
While he’s all-consumed by grand delusions also known as wishful thinking
His star quality seems to escape everyone
Who would be in position to help him
Still he goes off each day in anticipation of all
Of the thrill and the joy that one feels
When he’s making interment arrangements
He’s misunderstood
A book a song a TV sitcom part you’d miss for blinking
Or a winning lotto ticket in his hand is only wishful thinking
Oh its nobody’s fault but his own
So few offers come over the phone
But he still perseveres faces up to his fears
That can cloud the intentions and bring on the tears
Still his spirits get lower each day that this program’s protracted
Moment by moment it takes all he has to go on
But he just grits his teeth charges in slings the arrows back into
The face of outrageous misguided conclusions
And even though he’ll never die a pauper or a rich king
He’s just not content to spend his time on anything but wishful thinking
Oh the groceries and the bills aren’t paid by talking or by drinking
So he just resumes the grind lacklusterly and does his wishful thinking
More on. . . "this about a very young, at the time, gentleman whose effervescent personality exuded youthful unpredictability and enthusiasm for life. The music, at least I believe, makes a sincere attempt to capture that unpredictability, in its melody, chordal and rhythmic structure.". . .
The original version appeared on my first release, Chromatose, and you can hear it below.
. . . U.S. election law should make it mandatory for presidential candidates to undergo psychiatric testing to determine their fitness to assume the responsibility of the office to which they aspire.
(http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2016/06/the-mind-of-donald-trump/480771/)
". . . Mark Singer in the late 1990s. . . was working on a profile of Trump for The New Yorker. Singer wondered what went through his mind when he was not playing the public role of Donald Trump. What are you thinking about, Singer asked him, when you are shaving in front of the mirror in the morning? Trump, Singer writes, appeared baffled. Hoping to uncover the man behind the actor’s mask, Singer tried a different tack: “O.K., I guess I’m asking, do you consider yourself ideal company?” “You really want to know what I consider ideal company?,” Trump replied. “A total piece of ass.” I might have phrased Singer’s question this way: Who are you, Mr. Trump, when you are alone? Singer never got an answer, leaving him to conclude that the real-estate mogul who would become a reality-TV star and, after that, a leading candidate for president of the United States had managed to achieve something remarkable: “an existence unmolested by the rumbling of a soul.”. . . "
The black coffee’s aroma hangs thick like a cloud every morning
He sorts through paisleys and patterns and stripes on the door
As he lifts up a vain little finger to stifle the blood
From a close shave in the battle of life
The late night crowd’s returning from an all night bout of drinking
While he’s all-consumed by grand delusions also known as wishful thinking
His star quality seems to escape everyone
Who would be in position to help him
Still he goes off each day in anticipation of all
Of the thrill and the joy that one feels
When he’s making interment arrangements
He’s misunderstood
A book a song a TV sitcom part you’d miss for blinking
Or a winning lotto ticket in his hand is only wishful thinking
Oh its nobody’s fault but his own
So few offers come over the phone
But he still perseveres faces up to his fears
That can cloud the intentions and bring on the tears
Still his spirits get lower each day that this program’s protracted
Moment by moment it takes all he has to go on
But he just grits his teeth charges in slings the arrows back into
The face of outrageous misguided conclusions
And even though he’ll never die a pauper or a rich king
He’s just not content to spend his time on anything but wishful thinking
Oh the groceries and the bills aren’t paid by talking or by drinking
So he just resumes the grind lacklusterly and does his wishful thinking
My latest solo offering, No Frills, is now available at - No Frills
(To Access all Ray Jozwiak - Gonzo Piano music you can copy-and-paste this URL directly to
your browser: http://http://www.cdbaby.com/Artist/RayJozwiak)
From Captain Beefheart's (Don Van Vliet) "10 On Guitar". . .
1. Listen to the birds.
That's where all the music comes from. Birds know everything about how it should sound and where that sound should come from. And watch hummingbirds. They fly really fast, but a lot of times they aren't going anywhere.
2. Your guitar is not really a guitar Your guitar is a divining rod.
Use it to find spirits in the other world and bring them over. A guitar is also a fishing rod. If you're good, you'll land a big one.
3. Practice in front of a bush
Wait until the moon is out, then go outside, eat a multi-grained bread and play your guitar to a bush. If the bush doesn't shake, eat another piece of bread.
4. Walk with the devil
Old Delta blues players referred to guitar amplifiers as the "devil box." And they were right. You have to be an equal opportunity employer in terms of who you're bringing over from the other side. Electricity attracts devils and demons. Other instruments attract other spirits. An acoustic guitar attracts Casper. A mandolin attracts Wendy. But an electric guitar attracts Beelzebub.
5. If you're guilty of thinking, you're out
If your brain is part of the process, you're missing it. You should play like a drowning man, struggling to reach shore. If you can trap that feeling, then you have something that is fur bearing.
6. Never point your guitar at anyone
Your instrument has more clout than lightning. Just hit a big chord then run outside to hear it. But make sure you are not standing in an open field.
7. Always carry a church key
That's your key-man clause. Like One String Sam. He's one. He was a Detroit street musician who played in the fifties on a homemade instrument. His song "I Need a Hundred Dollars" is warm pie. Another key to the church is Hubert Sumlin, Howlin' Wolf's guitar player. He just stands there like the Statue of Liberty-making you want to look up her dress the whole time to see how he's doing it.
8. Don't wipe the sweat off your instrument
You need that stink on there. Then you have to get that stink onto your music.
9. Keep your guitar in a dark place
When you're not playing your guitar, cover it and keep it in a dark place. If you don't play your guitar for more than a day, be sure you put a saucer of water in with it.
10. You gotta have a hood for your engine
Keep that hat on. A hat is a pressure cooker. If you have a roof on your house, the hot air can't escape. Even a lima bean has to have a piece of wet paper around it to make it grow.
What
do YOU think?
http://www.rayjozwiak.com/guestbook.html
AAAAANNNNNDDDDD. . . . .
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)
Yesterday's blog about Fishbone is gone, not a trace-not a link; the entire blog site is now different, did not play my parts well in spite of many hours of practice and familiarity; the drummer's electronic drum kit malfunctioned therefore we did not play with drums tonight; best friend/wife/love of my life isn't feeling well; the later it got the more I needed to accomplish; nodding off as I try to write this; sons are driving to Los Angeles early next week; packing, truck pick-up, return from visiting friends must all be done effectively to carry off the packing and departure; elder son flying back home Saturday morning; wishing I could make a living from music; and blogging; getting sleepy; having difficulty finishing this; need extra rest; have too much to do; drummer has very ill relatives; 2012 is an election year; need to write more but don't have much time; three sons celebrated their visit tonight; thinking about MD crabcakes; hoping that's what the boys ate; getting later and sleepier. . . feeling like a crazy person!
What do YOU think?
http://www.rayjozwiak.com/guestbook.html
Download
your
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ANOTHER SHOT
by Ray
Jozwiak
. . . and monkey do
The little monkey looks an awful lot like you
Everybody's seen
The little monkeys in the zoo
And we've all been
In situations where we
Do what we know isn't right
So we follow
And try to do it their way
Can't risk our reputation
And in our heads
We hear our Mothers say
Monkey see and monkey do
The little monkey looks an awful lot like you
Every monkey knows
that what the other monkeys think
Matters the most
If we're not thirsty
We'll still drink
If they would tell us to
Run in circles
And jump through hoops of fire
We couldn't jump much higher
And there's a voice that's ringing
In our ears
Monkey see and monkey do
The little monkey looks an awful lot like you
Monkey is a social animal
Not a predator or cannibal
Wondrous thing is sociability
Life is so much more
Than just one great big cocktail party
Monkeys know the game
Just one good double-dare
Can redirect the blame
For anything that they may do
I can't just turn away
Something pulls me
In closer to the fire
I can't explain about it
They'd think there's
Something wrong if I would say
Monkey see and monkey do
The little monkey looks an awful lot like you
. . . how we can ever stop such ridiculousness as the Terry Jones/Koran-burning/Afghanistan riot/killing or whatever you want to call it.
The situation provides a vivid illustration of what can be achieved when ignorance and reactionary violence are combined. . . death. Of course some parties involved not only have no objection to the resulting death, they actually welcome it.
Since I clearly see which side of THIS argument is the correct one - NEITHER side - I won't belabor any point here at all. I only want to use it as another opportunity to repeat what I believe to be a lesson learned, or more importantly, a preventative measure to such nonsense-induced tragedy - EDUCATION.
Take the time to LEARN. I mean real objective LEARNING. This would and should entail the consultation of MULTIPLE sources (and not merely or exclusively one or another 'holy' book), discussion (objective, non-emotional discussion) followed by some REAL thinking. . .
although I wonder now if the number of human beings truly capable of such educational endeavor is, of late, dwindling. . .
