November 29th, 2017

'Desolation Row' a song written by Bob Dylan

Desolation Row

They’re selling postcards of the hanging

They’re painting the passports brown

The beauty parlor is filled with sailors

The circus is in town

Here comes the blind commissioner

They’ve got him in a trance

One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker

The other is in his pants

And the riot squad they’re restless

They need somewhere to go

As Lady and I look out tonight

From Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy

“It takes one to know one,” she smiles

And puts her hands in her back pockets

Bette Davis style

And in comes Romeo, he’s moaning

“You Belong to Me I Believe”

And someone says, “You’re in the wrong place my friend

You better leave”

And the only sound that’s left

After the ambulances go

Is Cinderella sweeping up

On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden

The stars are beginning to hide

The fortune-telling lady

Has even taken all her things inside

All except for Cain and Abel

And the hunchback of Notre Dame

Everybody is making love

Or else expecting rain

And the Good Samaritan, he’s dressing

He’s getting ready for the show

He’s going to the carnival tonight

On Desolation Row

Now Ophelia, she’s ’neath the window

For her I feel so afraid

On her twenty-second birthday

She already is an old maid

To her, death is quite romantic

She wears an iron vest

Her profession’s her religion

Her sin is her lifelessness

And though her eyes are fixed upon

Noah’s great rainbow

She spends her time peeking

Into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood

With his memories in a trunk

Passed this way an hour ago

With his friend, a jealous monk

He looked so immaculately frightful

As he bummed a cigarette

Then he went off sniffing drainpipes

And reciting the alphabet

Now you would not think to look at him

But he was famous long ago

For playing the electric violin

On Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world

Inside of a leather cup

But all his sexless patients

They’re trying to blow it up

Now his nurse, some local loser

She’s in charge of the cyanide hole

And she also keeps the cards that read

“Have Mercy on His Soul”

They all play on pennywhistles

You can hear them blow

If you lean your head out far enough

From Desolation Row

Across the street they’ve nailed the curtains

They’re getting ready for the feast

The Phantom of the Opera

A perfect image of a priest

They’re spoonfeeding Casanova

To get him to feel more assured

Then they’ll kill him with self-confidence

After poisoning him with words

And the Phantom’s shouting to skinny girls

“Get Outa Here If You Don’t Know

Casanova is just being punished for going

To Desolation Row”

Now at midnight all the agents

And the superhuman crew

Come out and round up everyone

That knows more than they do

Then they bring them to the factory

Where the heart-attack machine

Is strapped across their shoulders

And then the kerosene

Is brought down from the castles

By insurance men who go

Check to see that nobody is escaping

To Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero’s Neptune

The Titanic sails at dawn

And everybody’s shouting

“Which Side Are You On?”

And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot

Fighting in the captain’s tower

While calypso singers laugh at them

And fishermen hold flowers

Between the windows of the sea

Where lovely mermaids flow

And nobody has to think too much

About Desolation Row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday

(About the time the doorknob broke)

When you asked how I was doing

Was that some kind of joke?

All these people that you mention

Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame

I had to rearrange their faces

And give them all another name

Right now I can’t read too good

Don’t send me no more letters, no

Not unless you mail them

From Desolation Row
Copyright © 1965 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1993 by Special Rider Music
  • Current Mood
    tired tired

the superiority of pre-critical exegesis

It is 8:16 AM Wednesday morning here in West Michigan. It is a clear sky day. I am thankful it is not snowing or raining today.

I got up this morning around 6:15 AM. I got up ate something while messing with our main computer. After messing with our main computer I made a fresh pot of coffee and then wrote in my paper diary. Now I am writing in my online diaries.

I have no plans for the day ahead of me. Yesterday I basically spent the day reading these books on the Epistle to the Hebrews/New Testament/the Bible-

'God has Spoken in his Son: A biblical theology of Hebrews' by Peter T. O'Brien

'The Letter To The Hebrews' [The Pillar New Testament Commentary] by Peter T. O'Brien

'Commentary On Hebrews' by Thomas R. Schreiner [Biblical Theology For Christian Proclamation]

'Hebrews' [The Anchor Bible] by Craig R. Koester

'Hebrews, James' New Testament XIII [Reformation Commentary On Scripture] Edited By Ronald K. Rittgers

Last night before going to bed I read some more of the novel 'Blindness' by Henry Green.

I do not have anything new to write so I will close to drift through the day. Existence keeps speeding by!

"[1] God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets,
[2] Hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds;
[3] Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high;
[4] Being made so much better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they." Hebrews 1:1-4
  • Current Mood
    tired tired

the League of Nations

It is now in the flow 12:46 PM Wednesday afternoon here by Lake Michigan. This morning I left the house to purchase bird seed at a Feed Store in Zeeland and then visit thrift stores to search for used books to add to our library. I found these used books this morning-

'Shogun' A Novel Of Japan by James Clavell

'Wind, Sand, and Stars' a memoir by Antoine De Saint Exupery

'The Collected Stories of Sean O'Faolain'

'The Talented Mr. Ripley' Crime Novel by Patricia Highsmith

'The Motel' a novel by Willy Vlautin

'In Pharaoh's Army: Memories of the Lost War' memoir by Tobias Wolff

'Abarat' fantasy novel by Clive Barker

'The Downfall Of Money: Germany's Hyperinflation And The Destruction Of The Middle Class' German History by Frederick Taylor

'Mr. Wilson's War From the Assassination of McKinley to the Defeat of the League of Nations' American History by John Dos Passos

After visiting thrift stores I came home to have lunch and to mess with my new used books. The sun is still shining, but I need to close my eyes and doze.
  • Current Mood
    exhausted exhausted