I am 66 years old and retired.  I no longer work full time, I play.  We live in southern Maine.  My children and grandchildren will always have a HOME in southern Maine where we live.  Forever as long as we live.  

"I won't let you near it."  My mind is free.

Click below to hear Bonnie Raitt sing "I Will Not Be Broken"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_FcAg4ObRQ

Lyrics, "I will not be broken"

That was then and this is now
I found my way back here somehow
Knew you'd have to let me go
I told you once I told you so

Take me down
You can hold me but you
Can't hold what's within
Pull me round
Push me to the limit
Maybe I may bend
But I know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be

Someone other than who I am
I will fight to make my stand
Cause what is livin' if I can't live free

What is freedom if I can't be me

Take me down
You can hold me but you
Can't hold what's within
Pull me round
Push me to the limit
Maybe I may bend
But I know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be

I won't let you near it
I will let my spirit fly
Fly
High
Oh take me down

Take me down
You can hold me but you
Can't hold what's within
Pull me round
Push me to the limit
Maybe I may bend
But we both know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be

Written by Wayne Kirkpatrick, Gordon Scott Kennedy, Tommy Sims • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group

Discovered tonight, Clonazepam is my bourbon...failed the sleep apnea test in many ways.

Click below to hear Patty Loveless sing "Here I Am"...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMaJuLlKaD0

Lyrics, "Here I Am"

Don't do it darlin'
Don't you dare look in there
You said you didn't want to see me
But you've been lookin' for me everywhere
And you know that you're gonna find me
If you keep on drinkin' fast
'Cause honey I'm right there waitin' on you
At the bottom of your glass

And here I am
Here I am
In the bourbon and the water
That burn you just like a brand
Here I am

It ain't workin' darlin'
Hard as you may try
You keep hearin' the words you told me
In everyone's goodbye
And you know that you're just one step
From another one being gone
I know I've seen 'em all unravel
I've been watchin' it all along

And here I am
Here I am
In every lie you're hearin'
That burn you just like a brand
Here I am

And honey, I got over you passin' me over
A long time ago
And my pride was stronger when I was younger
Now I'd rather have you to know

That here I am
Here I am
I still carry a flame for you
Burnin' me like a brand
Here I am

Written by Gary A Spaniola, Gregory A Potts, Melvin Jr. Riley • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

Click below to hear Kathy Mattea sing her great song...Reminds one of Gallipolis, Ohio

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5H_At-MLF-8

Love at the Five and Dime

Rita was sixteen years, hazel eyes and chestnut hair
She really made the Woolworth counter shine
Eddie was a sweet romancer, and a darn good dancer
They'd waltz the aisles of the five and dime
Eddie played the steel guitar, and his mama cried cuz he played in the bars
And kept young Rita out late at night
So they married up in Abilene, lost a child in Tennessee
Still that love survived, 'cause they'd sing

Dance a little closer to me, dance a little closer now
Dance a little closer tonight
Dance a little closer to me, 'cause it's closing time
And love's on sale tonight at this five and dime
One of the boys in Eddie's band took a shine to Rita's hands
So Eddie ran off with the bass man's wife
Oh but he was back by June, singin' a different tune
And sportin' miss Rita back by is side. And he sang...

Dance a little closer to me, dance a little closer now
Dance a little closer tonight
Dance a little closer to me, 'cause it's closing time
And love's on sale tonight at this five and dime
Eddie traveled with the barroom bands till arthritis took his hands
Now he sells insurance on the side
Rita's got a house to keep, dimestore novels and a love so sweet
They dance to the radio late at night. And they sing:

Dance a little closer to me, dance a little closer now
Dance a little closer tonight
Dance a little closer to me, hey it's closing time
And love's on sale tonight at this five and dime

Rita was sixteen years, hazel eyes and chestnut hair
She really made the Woolworth counter shine
Eddie was a sweet romancer, and a darn good dancer
And they'd waltz the aisles of the five and dime...

Written by Nanci Griffith • Copyright © BMG Rights Management US, LLC

Click below for Youtube video of Lumineers song "Cleopatra"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN5s9N_pTUs

Lyrics, "Cleopatra" sung by the Lumineers

I was Cleopatra, I was young and an actress
When you knelt by my mattress, and asked for my hand
But I was sad you asked it, as I laid in a black dress
With my father in a casket, I had no plans, yeah

And I left the footprints, the mud stained on the carpet
And it hardened like my heart did when you left town
But I must admit it, that I would marry you in an instant
Damn your wife, I'd be your mistress just to have you around

But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life
And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time

While the church discouraged, any lust that burned within me
Yes my flesh, it was my currency, but I held true
So I drive a taxi, and the traffic distracts me
From the strangers in my backseat, they remind me of you

But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life
And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time

And the only gifts from my Lord were a birth and a divorce
But I've read this script and the costume fits, so I'll play my part

I was Cleopatra, I was taller than the rafters
But that's all in the past now, gone with the wind
Now a nurse in white shoes leads me back to my guestroom
It's a bed and a bathroom
And a place for the end

I won't be late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life
And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time

Written by Wesley Schultz, Simone Felice, Jeremy Fraites • Copyright © BMG Rights Management US, LLC

Tom Johnston, 1970-2017
"Thanks for the 4:30 AM forecasts and humor"

Portland Press Herald about TJ Thunder Suicide

from The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering	5
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,	10
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,	15
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. http://obits.dignitymemorial.com/dignity-memorial/obituary.aspx?n=Thomas-Johnston&lc=1643&pid=185024886&mid=7361166

1
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock       Poem by T. S. Eliot
T.S., Eliot 1888-1965

When he was alive, T.S. Eliot was one of the most influential poets in the English-speaking
world. His invention of new poetic rhythms, forms, and themes had an enormous impact on other
writers and helped usher in a new era in poetry. Eliot, remarked the composer Igor Stravinsky,
was "not only a great sorcerer of words, but the very key keeper of the language."
.
A Lover of Philosophy Eliot grew up in St. Louis, Missouri in a household steeped in culture and
tradition. His mother, Charlotte Champe Stearns, was an amateur poet, and his father, Henry
Ware Eliot, was a successful businessman with New England roots. Eliot received a broad
education studying at Milton Academy and Harvard University. After earning both bachelor's and
master's degrees from Harvard, Eliot continued his studies in philosophy at the Sorbonne in Paris
and then back at Harvard. However, he never completed those studies. While on a traveling
fellowship in Europe, he met the poet Ezra Pound, who encouraged Eliot's poetic ambitions.
.
Literary Success Pound helped Eliot gain entry into London's avant-garde circle of writers, and
he introduced Eliot's poetry to Harriet Monroe of ‘Poetry’ magazine. In 1915, Eliot's masterpiece
"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" appeared in ‘Poetry’. That same year, Eliot married Vivien
Haigh-Wood, an Englishwoman. Struggling to make a living as a writer, Eliot worked as a
teacher, a bank clerk, and finally as an editor.
.
Breakthroughs in Poetry The 1917 publication of Eliot's first book, “Prufrock and Other
Observations”, signaled a distinct break with the past. Using colloquial speech laced with slang,
Eliot created a new, highly original poetic diction. He also explored new poetic themes, such as
the splendors and horrors of modern life and the effects of alienation. With the appearance of
“The Waste Land” in 1922, Eliot's reputation was solidified. In this poem, Eliot articulated the
disgust and disillusionment felt by his generation in the wake of World War I, as well as its longing
for meaning in a chaotic, sometimes frightening, world.
.
Inspired by Religion Though a pioneer in poetry, Eliot became increasingly conservative in his
personal views. Struggling with anxiety over his domestic troubles, he joined the Church of
England in 1927 and embraced its traditional pieties. In his later collections, “Ash Wednesday
“(1930) and “Four Quartets” (1943), he used poetry to stress the significance of accepting

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
_________________
S’io credesso…ti rispondo: These lines are from the Inferno, written in the early 14th century by Italian poet
Dante Alighieri. As Dante visits hell, one of the damned agrees to speak of his torment only because he believes
that Dante cannot return to the living world to repeat the tale.

2
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
_________________
etherized: given ether, a liquid used as an anesthetic
insidious: more dangerous than it seems

3
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
______________
morning coat: a type of formal suit jacket with coattails
presume: act overconfidently, dare
formulated: reduce to a formula
And I have…on the walls: Profrock recalls being scrutinized by women at other parties. He portrays
himself as a live insect that has been classified, labeled, and mounted for display.
digress: wander away from the main topic; ramble

4
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
* * * *
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
______________
I should…silent seas: Here Profrock presents an image of himself as a crayfish
malingers: pretends illness in order to avoid duty or work
But through…prophets: an allusion to the biblical story of John the Baptist, who is imprisoned by
King Herod (Matthew 14; Mark 6). At the request of his wife, Herod had the Baptist’s head cut off and
brought to him on a platter.
Lazarus: In the biblical story (John 11:17-44) Lazarus lay dead in his tomb for four days before Jesus
brought him back to life

5
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
* * * *
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
______________
magic lantern: a forerunner of the slide projector
deferential: yielding to someone else’s opinion
meticulous: extremely careful and precise about details
obtuse: slow to understand; dull

Source:

https://www.wuhsd.org/cms/lib/CA01000258/Centricity/Domain/.../assignment_e4.pdf

Click the link below to hear Billy Currington sing "People are Crazy"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKpQRjj_WbU

                         PEOPLE ARE CRAZY

This old man and me, were at the bar and we
Were having us some beers and swaping 'I don't cares'
Talking politics, blond and red-head chicks
Old dogs and new tricks and habits we ain't kicked

We talked about God's grace and all the hell we raised
Then I heard the ol' man say;
"God is great, beer is good and people are crazy"

He said "I fought two wars,
Been married and divorced"
What brings you to Ohio?
He said "Damned if I know"
We talked an hour or two about every girl we knew
What all we put 'em through
Like two old boys will do

We pondered life and death
He light a cigarette
He said "These damn things will kill me yet;
But God is great, beer is good and people are crazy"

Last call its two a.m., I said goodbye to him
I never talked to him again
Then one sunny day, I saw the old man's face
Front page obituary, he was a millionaire
He left his fortune to some guy he barely knew, his kids were mad as hell
But me, I'm doing well
And I drop by today, to just say thanks and pray,
And I left a six-pack right there on his grave and I said;
'God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy"

God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy.

God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy.

Songwriters
TROY JONES, BOBBY BRADDOCK