SHINE A LIGHT

On Friday, April 4, 2008, the latest Martin Scorsese film, a concert/documentary film starring The Rolling Stones will open in theaters. Guess who would have been there?

Check the left column for more info on the release and where you can see it.

BIG BUKOWSKI JUKEBOX

If your speakers are on you are probably listening to "Angie" by The Rolling Stones. I have now added the Big Bukowski Jukebox to the blog (it is viewable by scrolling to the bottom of the blog). The jukebox will hold 20 tracks and be updated weekly.

So, when you come, you can linger and listen to some music that was part of Bill's collection. Enjoy!

MAGIC AND LOSS

Back in 1992, Lou Reed released "Magic And Loss". It was a CD that Bill and I both bought during the first week it was released. It was a collection dealing with death and tragedy - not a light listen. Here are some excerpts from the songs that I would like to share. I think you'll find Bill in these.





Life's Good


Life's like a mayonnaise soda
And life's like space without room
And life's like bacon and ice cream
That's what life's like without you

Life's like forever becoming
But life's forever dealing in hurt
Now life's like death without living
That's what life's like without you

What's good is life without living
What good's this lion that barks
You loved a life others throw away nightly
It's not fair, not fair at all

What's good ?
Life's good -
But not fair at all



Power And Glory


I was visited by The Power and The Glory
I was visited by a majestic hymn
Great bolts of lightening
lighting up the sky
Electricity flowing through my veins

I was captured by a larger moment
I was seized by divinity's hot breath
Gorged like a lion on experience
Powerful from life

I wanted all of it--
Not some of it

And I was struck by The Power and The Glory
I was visited by a majestic Him
Great bolts of lightening lighting up the sky
as the radiation flowed through him
He wanted all of it
Not some of it



Magician


Somebody ... please hear me
my hand can't hold a cup of coffee
My fingers are weak - things just fall away
Inside I'm young and pretty
Too many things unfinished
My very breath taken away

I want some magic to sweep me away
Visit on this starlit night
replace the stars the moon the light - the sun's gone
Fly me through this storm
and wake up in the calm ...
I fly right through this storm
and ... I ... Wake ... Up ... In ... The ... Calm



Sword Of Damocles


It seems everything's done that must be done
from over here though things don't seem fair
But there are things that we can't know
maybe there's something over there
Some other world that we don't know about
I know you hate that mystic shit
It's just another way of seeing
The Sword of Damocles above your head



Goodby Mass


Sitting on a hard chair try to sit straight
Sitting on a hard chair this moment won't wait
Listening to the speakers they're talking about you
Look at all the people all the people you know

Sitting with my back straight it becomes hard to hear
Some people are crying it becomes hard to hear
I don't think you'd have liked it you would have made a joke
You would have made it easier you'd say "tomorrow I'm smoke"

Sitting on a hard chair how far we have come
Trying hard to listen to your friends who have come
Some of them are famous and some are just like me
Trying hard to listen trying hard to see

Sitting in a hard chair it's over time to stand
Some people are crying
You, you would have made a joke
"Isn't this something," you say, "tomorrow I'm smoke"



Cremation


There are ashes spilt through collective guilt
People rest at sea forever
Since they burnt you up
Collect you in a cup
For you the coal black sea has no terror

Will the Atlantic Coast
have its final boast
Nothing else contained you ever

Now the coal black sea waits for me me me
The coal black sea waits forever
When I leave this joint
at some further point
The same coal black sea will it be waiting



Dreamin'


If I close my eyes I see your face and I'm not without you
If I trying hard and concentrate I can still hear you speak
I picture myself in your room by the chair
you're smoking a cigarette
If I close my eyes I can see your face you're saying, "I missed you"
Dreamin' - I'm always dreamin'

They say in the end the pain was so bad that you were screaming
Now you were no saint but you deserved better than that
If I close my eyes I see your face and I'm not without you

If I close my eyes I can't believe that I'm here without you
Dreamin', I'm always dreamin'



No Chance


There are things we say we wish we knew and in fact we never do
But I'd wish I'd known that you were going to die
Then I wouldn't feel so stupid, such a fool that I didn't call
And I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye

No there's no logic to this - who's picked to stay or go
If you think too hard it only makes you mad
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye



Gassed And Stoked


Well, you covered your tracks
and now I can't see you
There's no record no tape no book no movie
Some photographs and some memories

Now I may not remember everything that you said
But I remember all the things you've done
And not a day goes by not an hour
when I don't try to be like you

You were gassed, stoked and rarin' to go
and you were that way all the time

MY FIRST HERO

Today marks the second anniversary of Bill's passing. And, while I miss my brother very much, I believe that I am finally coming to grips with the fact that I will never see him again on earth. I still lose it sometimes - and I probably always will - but then I think that he's probably saying, "Stop it and get on with your life."

Back in 1984, Bill and I were driving through the Hollywood Hills when we had our first conversation about his drinking. Until I moved to L.A. I did not realize that he had a real problem. Somehow, we got to a point in the conversation where we started to discuss our hero's. I can't remember who he mentioned, but I know that Keith Richards came into the conversation. When he asked me who my hero was I think I floored him when I said, "You".

In retrospect, I realize that I moved to L.A. to follow in the footsteps of my hero, my brother. And, when I moved back east, although I still loved him, and in many ways still looked up to him, I found other hero's.


This past Saturday I walked around Brooklyn and Manhattan, tracing some of the footsteps of my first hero. While doing so, I stirred up many forgotten memories of doing things with Bill. From Dean Street in Brooklyn, to Thompson Street, West 58th Street and West 16th Street in Manhattan, I visited all of the places where Bill lived after he left home.

While I had no idea of the exact address on Dean Street, thanks to Mike Groob I was able to pin down the street. I also had no clue of Bill's address on Thompson Street, but I guessed that since he was attending NYU he probably lived in close proximity to the intersection of West 3rd Street so that's the place I visited.

I was old enough to remember West 58th Street but oblivious to the infamy related to the location. The apartment on West 16th Street holds the best memories for me and probably played a big role in Bill becoming my hero.

I'm sure many of you - especially those of you who knew him on the East Coast - have many memories of him. I am saddened by the fact that none of you have shared those memories, especially since I remember hearing about how much fun you had with Bill. Let's face it, Bill did not live an ordinary life. He seemed to push the limit every chance he got. He added something to all of our lives and he still can if we share our memories.

Over the next week or two, I'll be sharing the photos of my trip along with the memories the trip uncovered. I really hope when you see the photos that you decide that it's time to share you memory. After all, how do you top a story about Bill's life.

Thanks for visiting and if you pray, remember Bill when you do. Stay well.

Phil

TWO YEARS GONE...

I have a few thoughts about my brother on this the second anniversary of his death. I will post those later today. But, for right now, these words from an old Jackson Browne song (For A Dancer) have been going through my head this morning so I thought I would share them.


Keep a fire burning in your eye
Pay attention to the open sky
You never know what will be coming down
I don't remember losing track of you
You were always dancing in and out of view
I must have thought you'd always be around
Always keeping things real by playing the clown
Now you're nowhere to be found

I don't know what happens when people die
Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try
It's like a song I can hear playing right in my ear
That I can't sing
I can't help listening
And I can't help feeling stupid standing 'round
Crying as they ease you down
'cause I know that you'd rather we were dancing
Dancing our sorrow away
(right on dancing)
No matter what fate chooses to play
(there's nothing you can do about it anyway)

Just do the steps that you've been shown
By everyone you've ever known
Until the dance becomes your very own
No matter how close to yours
Anothers steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone