Dream On…Nazareth

Sleep- by Poets of the Fall

Pulse- lyrics by Ani Difranco

(I can’t seem to find a youtube clip of her playing this one- but its one of my favorite night time ballads- and makes me think of my love)

you crawled into my bed
like some sort of giant insect
and i found myself spellbound
that night at the sight of you there
beautiful and grotesque and all the rest of that bug stuff
bluffing your way into my mouth
behind my teeth, reaching for my scars
that night we got kicked out of two bars
and laughed our way home

that night you leaned over
and threw up into your hair
and i held you there thinking
i would offer you my pulse
if i thought it would be useful
i would give you my breath
except
the problem with death is that you have
some hundred years and then they can
build building on your only bones
100 years and then your grave is not your own
we lie in out beds, and our graves
unable to save ourselves from
the quaint tragedies we invent
and then undo from the stupid circumstances
we slomen through
and i realized that night that the hall light
which seemed so bright when you turned it on is nothing
compared to the dawn
which is nothing, compared to the light
which seeps from me while you’re sleeping beautiful
and grotesque resting cacooned in my room
that night we got kicked out of two bars
and laughed our way home
and i held you there thinking
i would offer you my pulse
i would give you my breath
i would offer you my pulse

Interview with a Real Vampire

1998 Raphael Osiris Talks to Sondra London (if you can’t hear what they are saying at some points then go to youtube and check out the transcripts attached to each video)

part one:

part two:

part three:

part four:

part five:

part six:

part seven:

part eight:

part nine:

part ten:

part eleven:

part twelve:

part thirteen:

part fourteen:

part fifteen:

part sixteen:

part seventeen:

Where Do You Go To My Lovely ( when you’re alone in your bed) – Peter Sarstedt

You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there’s diamonds and pearls in your hair

You live in a fancy appartement
Of the Boulevard of St. Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I’ve seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does

When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pines
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan, on your back and on your legs

When the snow falls you’re found in St. Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon Brandy
But you never get your lips wet

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

Your name is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for chistmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh haha

They say that when you get married
It’ll be to a millionaire
But they don’t realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, they give a damn

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly brown tags, yes they try

So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
‘Cause I know you still bear
the scar, deep inside, yes you do

I know where you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
‘Cause I can look inside your head

Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allen Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love –
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

An eerie stop- animation clip with puppets…by George Higham

Dream-Land by Edgar Allen Poe

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule —
From a wild weird clime, that lieth, sublime,
Out of Space — out of Time.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titian woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, —
Their still waters, still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule.

By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, —
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily, —
By the mountains — near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, —
By the gray woods, — by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp, —
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls, —
By each spot the most unholy —
In each nook most melancholy, —
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past —
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by —
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the worms, and Heaven.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule —

For the heart whose woes are legion
’T is a peaceful, soothing region —
For the spirit that walks in shadow
’T is — oh ’t is an Eldorado!
But the traveler, traveling through it,
May not — dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringéd lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.

Ghost Songs part two…

The White Stripes – Walking with a Ghost

Spoon’s The Ghost of You Lingers

Ghostbusters Tribute and theme song

Johnny Cash and the Muppets – Ghost Riders In The Sky

Ghost songs…

“Your Ghost” by Kristin Hersh with Micheal Stipe

The Ghost – 1970 – When You Are Dead – One Second

Righteous Brothers – Unchained Melody (‘Ghost’ Soundtrack)

The Doors-The Ghost Song

Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song and Viking Kittens…

Monster Hash

Monster Hash Lyrics:

I was working in the lab late one night
When I heard the gurgle of a waterpipe
So I turned to see my monster in a cloud of smoke
Who said “This shit ain’t bad, here, have a toke”

(We smoked some hash) – We smoked some monster hash
(Some monster hash) – It was his personal stash
(We smoked some hash) – We got completely trashed
(On monster hash) – We smoked some monster hash

As we partied in the castle with the living dead
Mouths were dry and eyes were red
The ghouls and goblins shrieked and screamed
“Won’t somebody please pass the Visine”

(They smoked some hash) – They smoked some monster hash
(Some monster hash) – From Frankie’s personal stash
(We smoked some hash) – And they all were smashed
(On monster hash) – They smoked some monster hash

The mummy was toking on a bong
Wolfman said “Don’t bogart that, pass it along”
The swamp thing was toasted, rolling on the floor
Laughing hysterically and pleading for more

The scene was rocking as the werewolves moved
To the undead reggae band’s dance hall grooves
Meanwhile in the kitchen Frankenstein baked
Some Alice B. Toklas brownies and cakes

(We ate some hash) – We ate some monster hash
(Some monster hash) – It had the graveyard smashed
(We ate some hash) – And we all got trashed
(On monster hash) – We ate some monster hash

The party would have gone on ’til we all passed out
But just then we heard a bloodcurdling shout
“Watch out, beware, cover your necks
Dracula’s got the munchies, and he’s totally wrecked”

(He smoked some hash) – He smoked some monster hash
(Some monster hash) – He was completely smashed
(He smoked some hash) – That transylvanian’s trashed
(On monster hash) – He smoked some monster hash

Now every night the dead rise up from the grave
To partake in our happening THC rave
For you, the living, this hash was meant, too
When you get to my door just say the Toyes sent you

(We’ll smoke some hash) – We’ll smoke some monster hash
(Some monster hash) – And we’ll all get trashed
(We’ll smoke some hash) – From my personal stash
(Of monster hash) – We’ll smoke some monster hash

mmmm – that shit gooood
Easy, boy, save some for daddy
mmm – hash gooood

Vampire music…

“When one creates phantoms for oneself, one puts vampires into the world, and one must nourish these children of a voluntary nightmare with one’s blood, one’s life, one’s intelligence, and one’s reason, without ever satisfying them” (Eliphas Levi)

I guess I was a teenager when this song came out and very much in love. Also very much obsessed with vampires. Still am. This is a song by Bally Sagoo featuring Gunjan, in which a lovely vampire named “Noorie” rises from her coffin, and candle in hand, wanders the streets in her white sari, in search of her love. She spooks out a number of people along the way because she’s a vampire, so you can’t take her picture or see her in a rear view mirror. Its left somewhat ambiguous as to who she is waiting for. Is he (or she) dead? Is that why she wears white? Why does she go to the train station to wait for someone to arrive? She sings “Aaja re, o dilbar jaaniya, Aaja re, aaja re o mere dilbar aaja Dil ki pyaas bujha jaa re” (Come, come o my sweetheart Come and quench the thirst of my heart ) Anyway enjoy this haunting refrain.

Annie Lennox’s “Love song for a Vampire” which was made for Bram Stoker’s Dracula…haunting and spectral…starring the captivating Gary Oldman as the mournful Transylvanian king whose lost love appears to have been reincarnated as a Victorian Englishwoman played by Winona Ryder…

Bauhaus does “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” from the sultry vampire film “The Hunger” which starred David Bowie, Katherine Deneuve, and Susan Sarandon…a quirky, beautifully shot film about a vampire whose life is finite…

Here’s “Slept so Long” from “Queen of the Damned” sung by Lestat, the rockstar vampire of the film, about The Egypian queen Akaasha, played by Aaliyah, who was the original female vampire and who slept for centuries only to be woken up by Lestat’s music. She seduces him and sets out to rein mercilessly over the earth…

Werewolf music

“Werewolf Song” rap/hip hop by “The Moustaches”…trippy video…

“Werewolf” by “Cat Power”…sort of a folksy ballad…

Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf
Comes a steppin along
He dont even break the branches
Where hes been gone

You can hear his long holler from away cross the moor
Thats the holler of a werewolf when hes feelin poor

He goes out in the evenin when the bats re on the wing
An hes killed some young maiden before the birds sing

For the werewolf, for the werewolf
Have sympathy
cause the werewolf he is someone
Just like you an me

Once I saw him in the moonlight when the bats were a flyin
All alone I saw the werewolf and the werewolf was cryin

Cryin nobody, nobody, nobody knows
How much I love the maiden as I tear off his cloths
Cryin nobody, nobody, knows of my pain
When I see it has risen that full moon again

When I see that moon movin through the clouds in the sky
I get a crazy feelin an I wonder why

Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf
Comes travelin along
He dont even break the branches
Where hes been gone

For the werewolf have pity, not fear, an not hate
cause the werewolf might be someone that youve known of late

Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf
Comes travelin along
He dont even crush the leaves
Where hes been gone

A crappy Indie song called “Tooth and Claw” by “Dr. Who”

Mayfly immanance

saw this vodafone ad on indian cable tv dubbed in hindi and wanted to see it again. I think its originally from New Zealand. I don’t discriminate against mainstream advertising if they are beautiful and make me smile…so I give you the mayfly…

The Sleepers by SYLVIA PLATH

No map traces the street
Where those two sleepers are.
We have lost track of it.
They lie as if under water
In a blue, unchanging light,
The French window ajar
Curtained with yellow lace.
Through the narrow crack
Odors of wet earth rise.
The snail leaves a silver track;
Dark thickets hedge the house.
We take a backward look.

Among petals pale as death
And leaves steadfast in shape
They sleep on, mouth to mouth.
A White mist is going up.
The small green nostrils breathe,
And they turn in their sleep.

Ousted from that warm bed
We are a dream they dream.
Their eyelids keep the shade.
No harm can come to them.
We cast out skins and slide
Into another time.

Kate Bush’s RED SHOES

Kate Bush’s captivating song, reinterpreting the film that seduced so many little girls into becoming dancers…there is much written on the original Hans Christian Anderson tale…is it a tale of warning against feminine sexuality as this overwhelming force? The interpretation in the film is one which describes the shoes more as the overwhelmingly seductive force of success, and the lure of a career that can pull a young dancer into a relentlessly fast-paced existence that sacrifices all other things and people in its wake… perhaps Kate Bush is telling a different story…maybe its about her own story of success…or maybe its about remembering what it was to be a little girl dreaming of erotic love before it ever happened…wondering when the world would ever arrive to sweep one into its dream…and when the dream arrives, it is impossibly fast…it doesn’t let go…it swallows one…

Oh she move like the diva do
I said Id love to dance like you.
She said just take off my red shoes
Put them on and your dreamll come true
With no words, with no song
You can dance the dream with your body on
And this curve, is your smile
And this cross, is your heart
And this line, is your path

Oh its gonna be the way you always thought it would be
But its gonna be no illusion
Oh its gonna be the way you always dreamt about it
But its gonna be really happening to ya
Really happening to ya
Really happening to ya

Oh the minute I put them on
I knew I had done something wrong
All her gifts for the dance had gone
Its the red shoes, they cant stop dancing, dancing
And this curve, is your smile
And this cross, is your heart
And this line, is your path

Oh its gonna be the way you always thought it would be
But its gonna be no illusion
Oh its gonna be the way you always dreamt about it
But its gonna be really happening to ya

She gotta dance, she gotta dance
And she cant stop till them shoes come off
These shoes do, a kind of voodoo
Theyre gonna make her dance till her legs fall off

Feel your hair come tumbling down
Feel your feet start kissing the ground
Feel your arms are opening out
And see your eyes are lifted to god
With no words, with no song
Im gonna dance the dream
And make the dream come true
Im gonna dance the dream
And make the dream come true

She gotta dance, she gotta dance
And she cant stop till them shoes come off
These shoes do, a kind of voodoo
Theyre gonna make her dance till her legs fall off
Call a doctor, call a priest
Theyre gonna whip her up like a helicopter

Really happening to ya
Really happening to ya

The Red Shoes Ballet and Joy Division’s “She’s Lost Control”

The Red Shoes (1948) is a feature film about ballet, directed by the British-based team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. It tells the story of a young ballerina who joins an established ballet company and becomes the lead dancer in a ballet called The Red Shoes (based on the story by Hans Christian Andersen) about a woman who cannot stop dancing.

The ballet roughly follows the Andersen story. The setting is a carnival in which a young woman dances with her boyfriend. In one booth stands a slightly demented-looking shoemaker who offers her the red shoes. She puts them on and seemingly forgets about her boyfriend as she dances with every man in the place. Her boyfriend is carried away and nothing is left of him but a piece of paper, which she tramples. She attempts to return home to her mother, but the red shoes keep her dancing. Finally she falls into a kind of netherworld where she is beset by grotesque creatures (including the shoemaker) engaged in an orgy. They converge upon her in a manner reminiscent of The Rite of Spring, but abruptly disappear, leaving her alone. No matter where she flees, she has to dance. Now near death from exhaustion, clothed in rags, she finds herself in front of the church where her mother’s funeral is in progress. The church father offers to help her. She motions to him to take the shoes off, and as he does so, she dies. He carries her into the church, and the shoemaker retrieves the shoes, to be offered to his next victim.

info from wikipedia.com

Here’s a clip from the film to the soundtrack of Joy Division’s “She’s Lost Control”. Joy Division was an English rock band that formed in 1976 in Salford, Greater Manchester. With their dark, cavernous sound and use of guitars, throbbing bass, and electronics, they pioneered the post-punk sound of the late 1970s.

She’s Lost Control Lyrics:

Confusion in her eyes that says it all.
She’s lost control.
And she’s clinging to the nearest passer by,
She’s lost control.
And she gave away the secrets of her past,
And said I’ve lost control again,
And a voice that told her when and where to act,
She said I’ve lost control again.

And she turned around and took me by the hand and said,
I’ve lost control again.
And how I’ll never know just why or understand,
She said I’ve lost control again.
And she screamed out kicking on her side and said,
I’ve lost control again.
And seized up on the floor, I thought she’d die.
She said I’ve lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.

Well I had to ‘phone her friend to state my case,
And say she’s lost control again.
And she showed up all the errors and mistakes,
And said I’ve lost control again.
But she expressed herself in many different ways,
Until she lost control again.
And walked upon the edge of no escape,
And laughed I’ve lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.

Moments of Pleasure- Kate Bush

I’ve just discovered some of Kate Bush’s later works…and some pieces really move me…really slow me down and wake me up and make me realize that even though I talk and think so much about this great waking into dream I have planned for my life…the dream is not forever…and even in our sleep we have things to lose…things to remember….things to sing for…I let time slip by too easily…

Some moments that I’ve had
Some moments of pleasure

I think about us lying
Lying on a beach somewhere
I think about us diving
Diving off a rock, into another moment

The case of George the Wipe
Oh God I can’t stop laughing
This sense of humour of mine
It isn’t funny at all
Oh but we sit up all night
Talking about it

Just being alive
It can really hurt
And these moments given
Are a gift from time

On a balcony in New York
It’s just started to snow
He meets us at the lift
Like Douglas Fairbanks
Waving his walking stick
But he isn’t well at all
The buildings of New York
Look just like mountains through the snow

Just being alive
It can really hurt
And these moments given
Are a gift from time
Just let us try
To give these moments back
To those we love
To those who will survive

And I can hear my mother saying
“Every old sock meets an old shoe”
Isn’t that a great saying?
“Every old sock meets an old shoe”
Here come the Hills of Time

Hey there Maureen,

Hey there Bubba,
Dancing down the aisle of a plane,

Smurf, playing his guitar refrain,

Hey there Teddy,
Spinning in the chair at Abbey Road,

Hey there Michael,
Do you really love me?

Hey there Bill,
Could you turn the lights up?

mind-fucked animation by cyriak

Cat’s Dream by Pablo Neruda

How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings–
a series of burnt circles–
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.

I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.

I have seen how the cat asleep
would undulate, how the night
flowed through it like dark water;
and at times, it was going to fall
or possibly plunge into
the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
like a tiger’s great-grandfather,
and would leap in the darkness over
rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.

Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams;
control the obscurity
of our slumbering prowess
with your relentless heart
and the great ruff of your tail.