another day in the life of +Time+


A coarse bass balance of blasphemy, guitar, ridicule, subtlety, love, raunch, debauchery, imagination, sexuality, suggestion, angels, mystery, sarcasm, secrecy, praise and adoration, allusion, longing, and perhaps depravity, Leonard Cohen is my kind of cynic. Age contemporary, my regret is not starting earlier with him. In my +Time+ I may spend time listening to Leonard Cohen that I missed over the years and getting his lyrics. Listening to Cohen and my psyche out to lunch, it may be IPA MonkeyFist with oysters on the half shell.

Not "spend" though, Cohen is no expense but an investment in my psyche, conquering it, having the last word over it in spite of Nachash and his alphabet rotten apple. 

 Soon and very soon I’m going to see my brother, whom, as we get closer, I miss terribly even if we agree on nothing but love and some shared growing up years 1939-1953. Walt used to do all the calling and coming to see, my turn now, soon and very soon.

So bawdy and revealing or I'd copy&paste other of Cohen, but his last and finals are as spot on as ever. Get this:

LEONARD COHEN LYRICS

"Steer Your Way"

Steer your way past the ruins of the Altar and the Mall
Steer your way through the fables of Creation and The Fall
Steer your way past the Palaces that rise above the rot
Year by year, month by month, day by day
Thought by thought

Steer your heart past the Truth that you believed in yesterday
Such as Fundamental Goodness and the Wisdom of the Way
Steer your heart, precious heart, past the women whom you bought
Year by year, month by month, day by day
Thought by thought

Steer your way through the pain that is far more real than you
That's smashed the Cosmic Model, that blinded every view
And please don't make me go there, though there be a God or not
Year by year, month by month, day by day
Thought by thought

They whisper still, the injured stones
The blunted mountains weep
As he died to make men holy
Let us die to make things cheap
And say the Mea Culpa, which you probably forgot
Year by year, month by month, day by day
Thought by thought

Steer your way, O my heart, though I have no right to ask
To the one who was never, never equal to the task
Who knows he's been convicted, who knows he will be shot
Year by year, month by month, day by day
Thought by thought

They whisper still, the injured stones
The blunted mountains weep
As he died to make men holy
Let us die to make things cheap
And say the Mea Culpa, which you gradually forgot
Year by year, month by month, day by day