Clouds Are In My Eyes

Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way. 
Joni Mitchell, singer/song writer "Both Sides Now"

I love clouds. Watching them regally float by makes me feel as if I can ponder the world and its many issues. Having recently been to Kauai and waking up to what appeared to be a never-ending parade of morphed dirigibles that not only rivaled Macy’s, but put them to shame.  They had no strings 

Song interlude:

 I've got no strings

So I have fun

I'm not tied up to anyone

They've got strings

But you can see

There are no strings on me

 From Pinocchio, "I’ve Got No Strings"

Every morning I eagerly went to the window to view the clouds that covered the ocean like a top sheet on a neatly made bed. I watched as they tumbled by, some slowly evaporating, others expanding moving slowly as if they were royalty meandering by exuding elegance. 

From the painterly or the photographers’ point of view, clouds accent the mountains, enhance the sunrise, and magnify the sunset such that it often makes those who catch its pause to note the autumnal oranges, pastel pinks and blues.

Your mood can change based on the type of clouds coming over the horizon, but in Kauai they were generally light and fluffy transforming into whatever I imagined them to be as they blew from right to left following the trade winds.

Photographs by RJW

Bond, James Bond

Q has blown up a dummy with an explosive pen
Q: Don't say it... 
James Bond: The writing is on the wall. 
Q: Along with the rest of him. 
From the movie "Dr. No"

My favorite actor portraying the indestructible super secret agent James Bond was Timothy Dalton. I thought that he was the dark, cold, and ruthless character Ian Flemming had in mind. Bond was modeled to resemble the musician Hoagy Carmichael.

Hoagy, who wrote Stardust Melody and many others

Craig is not bad, but he reminds me of Russia's President Vladimir Putin or deceased actor Roy Scheider.

 See the evidence for yourself--

Roy Scheider

Daniel Craig

Vladimir Putin

What James Bond should look like--

Timothy Dalton

The real James Bond --

Bond, James Bond

The Rolling Stones Doom & Gloom

Lost all that treasure in an overseas war It just goes to show you don't get what you paid for Battle to the rich and you worry about the poor Put my feet up on the couch And lock all the doors Hear a funky noise That's the tightening of the screeeeews
Jagger/Richards, The Rolling Stones "Doom and Gloom"

The ol' boys of rock and roll can still deliver.

War is Hell

“You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.” 
Paul Sweeney

"The Yellow Birds" by Kevin Powers was a very moving and a very descriptive book. 

From Michiko Kakutani, the New York Times book reviewer:  Kevin Powers joined the Army when he was 17 and served as a machine-gunner in Iraq in 2004 and 2005. Drawing upon those experiences, he has written a remarkable first novel, one that stands with Tim O’Brien’s enduring Vietnam book, “The Things They Carried,” as a classic of contemporary war fiction. 

Throughout the book I felt his pain, fear, and sense of loss. There is also a sense of frustration with our military and how they care for our soldiers after going through battle.

I would also highly recommend reading "Matterhorn" by Karl Marlante. This book is about a troop in the jungles of Vietnam during the turbulent 1960s as well as bureaucratic nonsense that takes place in headquarters. This book made me feel even more compassion and admiration for our WWII vets who fought in the jungles of the Pacific.

Our soldiers who go into battle truly go through hell. Sadly too many people have no idea of all the ramifications of battle and the toll it takes on people. Of course those clueless people seem to be the ones the most hawkish and vocal about going to war.

Lincoln, the Movie

"Labor is prior to, and independent of, capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor, and could never have existed if labor had not first existed. Labor is the superior of capital, and deserves much the higher consideration"
Abraham Lincoln (1809 – 1865), 16th U.S. President

Lincoln, the movie was phenomenal. Daniel Day Lewis will win best actor easily, the movie will win best picture, Spielberg will win best director, and Tony Kushner's screenplay. They won't have just won, they will have earned it. 

If you are not interested in politics, history, or the process works find another way to spend two plus hours.

Step Right Up

It gets rid of unwanted facial hair, it gets rid of embarrassing age spots,

It delivers a pizza, and it lengthens, and it strengthens

And it finds that slipper that's been at large

under the chaise lounge for several weeks

And it plays a mean Rhythm Master,

It makes excuses for unwanted lipstick on your collar

And it's only a dollar, step right up, it's only a dollar, step right up

 --Tom Waits, singer, song writer "Step Right Up"

 

I was asked do I want to make money selling products on Toner Mishap?

Subject: For the owner/writer of TONER MISHAP

 Hi ,
I work for ACME and wanted to reach out to you.

We came across your blog TONER MISHAP and thought you'd make a great person to work with for a mutually beneficial initiative we've started. We're looking to have a select group of bloggers like yourself pick out their favorite ACME products and then ideally mention them in a blog post. The product selection is quite varied so I'm sure you'll find something that fits perfectly with your blog.

To make this really fast & easy, we've developed a tool that guides you through everything. It even helps generate a blog post title and the actual content once you've chosen your products.
You can get started by visiting this url: goflyakite.com
It should only take a couple minutes, but we would like to offer you an ACME gift certificate in exchange for your time if this sounds interesting to you.

All the best,
Shyster 

I replied with an uppercase NO.  What would my ethics be if I wrote about their merchandise by causally slipping in a surreptitious product plug without alerting you?  What if I did alert you and conveyed my weak little deal with the devil? There would be no credibility in my third-party endorsement. They would even give me a free gift certificate to write about their stuff and I still say NO!

I also wonder who would want someone with the pseudonym The Misanthrope to write about their tchotchkes? I don’t believe they even read this blog to see if the tone is right or if anything has been endorsed on this blog previously. Even if I used my real initials (RJW), which I don’t because I can’t remember my password the answer would still be NO.

So dear company representative, the answer today, tomorrow, and as long as I am asked for my opinion the reply will always be NO.

On Writing

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise.  The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
Sylvia Plath (1932–1963), poet

Initially I was going to title this “Why I Write” because that is the standard phase used in most colleges and universities working off of the essay from George Orwell detailing his expedition to the world of writing. Instead I opted for the simple naming convention used by the father of essays Michel Eyquem de Montaigne, because I hope to emulate his philosophy, if not his style to write exploratory, free-floating pieces. His writing did not explain or teach anything, he just shared his thoughts. Here is my first such piece.

I have written for years, but not certain when I first declared that is what I wanted to do. I do recall in the 9th grade that I wanted to be on the school newspaper, but was too intimidated to sign up. Now that may seem a bit late, but I was very emotionally immature for my age.  As I navigate old age, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore if I have caught up or not, I am at least aware of that major flaw. When I got to high school and started hanging out with a new group of friends who said they were going to sign up for the journalism class, I was in.



The journalism class was a lot of fun. Writing stories for a girlfriend to help her pass the class and for me to get a date with her. Not sure if I really learned anything, except maybe the power of the press. When some players from the school football team wrote a letter to the editor, we had our cartoonist show the gym teacher writing on the chalkboard what the players should write. It was unfair on our part and got our absentee instructor in hot water too.

I moved on to college, two-year college first, known in California as junior college. One of my colleagues from the high-school paper served on the Jr. college paper with me. He covered sports and I wrote features about movies and music. I was qualified in neither area. I just happened to enjoy both. However, we did win awards for the best school newspaper in our division.

Fortunately back then it was not unusual to have a local town newspaper and my town had a nice one of about 20,000 circulation. I worked in the back shop where the paper was cut and pasted together from typesetters retyping the reporters’ stories, to paste-up professionals who expertly wielded Exacto knives as they followed the layout pages the managing editor sent back. The stories were run through hot waxing machines leaving a thin coating of wax on the back of the typeset article so it could be attached to full-size page that would be photographed to come out as a full-size negative, plated and then printed. Because I was on staff and a journalism major, I was able to intern and write stories.

I covered a major local brush fire. Knowing the hills were burning, I called the managing editor asking if I could rewrite press releases. She suggested I go to the fire and see what I could find. I was rewarded with a front-page story accompanied by a rare color photo (because color was just coming to the newspaper world). I parked my car, took a notebook and started interviewing residents who were evacuating with the worldly goods they could jam into a car or truck. I talked with a guy on his roof holding a hose, who planned to go down with the house. The winds were blowing and unbeknownst to me it was a very dangerous situation if the winds shifted. The fire captain drove by in his truck and told me to get in. I started interviewing him and asking questions about the cost of fighting such a blaze. The next day, I drove around town just to look at all the newspaper racks that had my story and byline above the fold.

I was able to write myriad stories for the local paper. However, when it came time to earn a living I fell into public relations. My first job upon graduation came from an ad in the department’s letter to journalism majors: reporter/photographer wanted — Six Flags Magic Mountain. I landed the job, not because of my skills, but because my boss was insecure and hired me because my PR instructor at the university was the National PR director for the amusement park chain. I was hired because I was networked with someone I had not even really known, nor did I want to know that PR flack because I thought I was a serious journalist. I sat in the back of the class and questioned most things with cynicism and disrespect.

One of my roles in this new job was to be the park photographer. I was given at top of the line Nikon F-1 or 2 with lens and a case of film. I went to the newspaper photographer, but was embarrassed that I was no longer a journalist. I waited until I could catch him in the darkroom away from the rest of the staff. I told him I purchased the camera and I asked him how to load the film, and if he could give me a few tips.  He asked how much I paid for the camera. I told him $250. He was shocked and asked if it was stolen. “No, why?” I had no idea there was more than $1,500 worth of equipment in that silver camera case. Public relations was now my profession, I confessed.

My first professional meeting at SFMM was about a new ride, Roaring Rapids, coming to the park. We were brainstorming how to get the media to cover the story. I was aghast that we would contrive an event for publicity. I called the managing editor and told him what I had witnessed. He just laughed.

I no longer do public relations, but the writing I do falls under marketing and my journalism and public relations background provide me with a skill set that not many have today, when it comes to writing.

One last story about my newspaper experience: I still worked at the local newspaper part-time proofreading while working full time at the amusement park. It was the Monday of Memorial Day weekend. The last reporter had gone home that evening around 8 p.m. or 9 p.m. The managing editor urgently came up to me and asked if I would cover a grocery store hold up with hostages at the Vons around the corner. I was there in a flash. I went to the police command post set up in the parking lot. I heard an officer report that suspect was not around, but the hostages were coming out. I took off running around the dark end of the strip-mall plaza. I heard rustling on the rooftop as I ran around the back of the building. I didn’t realize there were snipers on the roof. The editor of the paper showed up at the police command station and thankfully saw me take off because the snipers had me in their sites as a suspect running toward the hostages. The editor yelled that it was one of his reporters. I got a few brief quotes from a couple of the hostages, another front-page story, and again was blissfully ignorant of my brush with danger.

Covering news stories is exciting and is certainly not your everyday desk job. Ideally, I would have liked to have been a columnist where I could write on the current events or what was bothering me. I can’t think of a journalist who wouldn’t want that job. However, I am not sure there are many readers who appreciate my style of humor in that forum, which is to rant in a hyperbole sort of way that is viewed as negative. Maybe this essay falls under Orwell’s third reason, Historical impulse: Desire to see things as they are, to find out true facts and store them up  for the use of posterity.

I have been writing for Toner Mishap for years off and on. It was started as a way to vent and try to prevent the reelection of George Bush. This follows under number four on Orwell’s list of four reasons on why we write: Political purpose — …Desire to push the world in a certain direction, to alter other people’s idea of the kind of society that they should strive after.
I failed miserably, but the regular writing was great practice and the results were pleasing to me. Oh sure there were a number clunkers, but the good ones came like inspiration and I wondered how the hell did I think of that. Daily writing and a day job ended up conflicting with my time and even some of what I wrote about.

As Orwell wrote:
…I give all this background information because I do not think one can assess a writer’s motives without knowing something of his early development…

They say you can’t step in the same river twice and I plan to make this my platform for more serious writing. Maybe this falls under Orwell’s number one reason why we write: Sheer egoism — for a desire to seem clever, to be talked about, or to be remembered after death.  While I would not object to any of those benefits, I write first for myself. I have long ago given up writing for the masses. So, it’s true for me that ego and remuneration take a backseat to the act of making and the gratification of creation.

I guess that places TonerMishap under Orwell’s second reason: Aesthetic enthusiasm – Perception of beauty in the external world. Or, on the other hand, placing words in the right arrangement.

Hiking in Kauai

Our engineering departments build freeways which destroy a city or a landscape, in the process.  
Arthur Erickson (1924 – 2009), Canadian architect and urban planner

The beauty of Kauai is breathtaking and it's mostly because people cannot reach 90 percent of the island because of state laws and tough terrain. I think that is a wonderful situation.

I plan to write more when I get home, but here are some pictures of the Kalalau Trail. I have many more, but have yet to sort them out.

This is the most vivid rainbow I've ever seen

Photographs by RJW

The Road to Hanalei

"When a man tells you that he got rich through hard work, ask him: 'Whose?'" 

--Don Marquis, philosopher (1878-1937)

Not your typical roadside workers. These guys are hanging around to shore up falling rocks along the road to Hanalei Bay in Kauai November 7, 2012.

Photograph by DKW

Hello

Hello! It's great to be back. I look forward to posting again. I have to again get up to speed on everything, but over the next few days I will practice on posting a few things. This is where I am currently writing from.

Rumor has it...

Rumor has it that you'll soon be seeing new posts out here on Toner Mishap. No promises -- but it seems probable. Yes, people still come here. Why? Apparently because they're looking for Edward Hopper, Norman Rockwell, and Ice Cube. (One of these things is not like the others?)

The New Bootleggers

You Can’t Cash My Checks

It’s so hard to stay honest in a world that’s headed to hell
You can't make a good living these days cause the fruit just won't sell

So if you go out my back door
Just over the hill
You'll see all these plants
That's been paying my bills

But you can't cash my checks
And you can't feel this hunger
You can push me into cold water
But you can't hold me under
Jamey Johnson, singer song writer

From an article in Mother Jones magazine: The New Dealers we learn how more people than we realize are making ends meet. I personally know two such individuals who grow and sell, neither can get work for various reasons. These are the new bootleggers who are not getting rich, but are just making ends meet.




In a forthcoming post you'll see that our elected officials are only interested in their wealth, not your well being nor the country's so long as it conflicts with their money grab.

Republican and Democrat Brains

"We have long had death and taxes as the two standards of inevitability. But there are those who believe that death is the preferable of the two. "At least," as one man said, "there's one advantage about death; it doesn't get worse every time Congress meets."
Erwin N. Griswold (1904–1994), appellate attorney

Draw your own conclusions. I would enjoy hearing your thoughts.

Politicians, Constituents, and the F-Bomb

“When once the forms of civility are violated, there remains little hope of return to kindness or decency”
Samuel Johnson (1709-1784), poet, critic, and writer

The political media is portraying an Iowa grocery store shopper's rude comment, "you're a fucking asshole, as evidence that Newt Gingrich is falling rapidly in the polls. To me it’s just further proof of society’s lack of manners and decorum, which sadly is not news.




Gingrich is doing what any candidate for public office needs to do, which is meet and greet the people who will have an opportunity to cast their vote for or against. There is no need and indeed no excuse for such behavior.

Disgracefully politicians behave similarly: former Vice President Dick Cheney shamefully told a colleague from across the aisle to “Go fuck yourself,” in June of 2004 during a debate regarding Halliburton’s role in the reconstruction of Iraq. His boss President George W. Bush gave the middle finger salute before filming started, which was recorded.

Democrats have been just as bad. Elected leaders need to set examples for civility and for ethical behavior, not elevate contemptible and despicable behavior.

Happy Birthday Keith Richards

"Some of it, you really want to unlearn."

Keith Richards, guitarist, songwriter for The Rolling Stones

Loud TV Commercials -- Are You Deaf Yet?

“Speech is for the convenience of those who are hard of hearing; but there are many fine things which we cannot say if we have to shout.”
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) essayist, poet, philosopher

FINALLY! THE JARRING, BLARING, AND ANNOYING VOLUME OF TELEVISION COMMERCIALS IS GOING TO STOP.

Sorry, I didn't mean to yell, I was trying to write about the commercials, but I couldn't hear myself think.

The Los Angeles Times reported that the FCC said cable and satellite TV companies as well as local broadcasters will be required to make sure the volume on commercials is kept in check. The rules go into effect in December 2012.


Sadly we still have to wait another year, but then one can rest their eyes and not end up like a scared cat clinging to the ceiling once the commercials start screaming at you.

Drink Up A Song List to Celebrate Prohibition's End

I cook with wine, sometimes I even add it to the food.
W. C. Fields, (1880 – 1946), actor

I almost missed this. Monday marked the 78th anniversary of the ratification of the 21st Amendment that officially ended Prohibition in the United States. On December 5, 1933, the federal government brought to a close a 13-year era of a failed prohibition of alcohol.

I got this idea from Mother Jones. Here is a list of drinking songs to celebrate or morn. Let’s set the scene in the wee hours of the morning with Mr. Sinatra and we’ll end on a bawdy tune with another Frank, Mr. Zappa):

1. One for My Baby (And One More for the Road), Count & The Orchestra Basie/Frank Sinatra, Sinatra at the Sands
2. Angel Eyes, Count & The Orchestra Basie/Frank Sinatra, Sinatra at the Sands
3. Drinking Again, Frank Sinatra, Nothing But The Best
4. Medley: Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes/I Don't Care If The Sun Don't Shine Dean Martin, Rat Pack Live At The Sands
5. Hey Brother, Pour The Wine, Dean Martin, The Capitol Years
6. Have Another Drink, The Kinks, Kinks Present A Soap Opera
7. Alcohol, The Kinks, Muswell Hillbillies
8. My Alcoholic Friends, The Dresden Dolls, Yes, Virginia...
9. Alcohol, Barenaked Ladies, Stunt
10. The Drinking Song, Loudon Wainwright III, Recovery
11. The Piano Has Been Drinking (Not Me), Tom Waits Small Change
12. The Fourth Night of My Drinking, Drive-By Truckers, The Big To-Do
13. Daddy Needs a Drink, Drive-By Truckers, Brighter Than Creations Dark
14. I Think I'll Just Stay Here And Drink, Merle Haggard: The Best of Merle Haggard
15. Rudy wants to buy Yez a drink, Frank Zappa, Chunga's revenge
16. Moonshine Whiskey, Van Morrison, Tupelo Honey
17. Whiskey Can Can, Beck, One Foot In the Grave
18. Rye Whiskey, Punch Brothers, T Bone Burnett Presents: The Speaking Clock Revue - Live from The Beacon Theatre
19. Women Without Whiskey, Drive-By Truckers, Southern Rock Opera
20. Warm Beer and Cold Women, Tom Waits, Nighthawks at the Diner
21. Down Among the Wines and Spirits, Elvis Costello, Secret, Profane and Sugarcane
22. Elderberry Wine, Elton John, Don't Shoot Me I'm Only the Piano Player
23. Pass The Wine (Sophia Loren), The Rolling Stones, Exile On Main Street
24. Titties & Beer, Frank Zappa, Zappa In New York

Pepper Spraying, The Aftermath

“Gardens are a form of autobiography”
unknown


Lt. Pike at home growing more peppers on paid leave...

Lt. Pike Deserves Infamous Notoriety

"It is weakness rather than wickedness which renders men unfit to be trusted with unlimited power."
John Adams, 1788

"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, it expects what never was and never will be."

Thomas Jefferson

The callous Lt. Pike who so willingly sprayed peaceful students at UC Davis deserves all the infamous notoriety. He was put on PAID administrative leave, which is akin to vacation.

A Personal Appreciation of Paul Simon

God makes his plan

The information’s unavailable

To the mortal man

We’re working our jobs

Collect our pay

Believe we’re gliding down the highway

When in fact we’re slip slidin’ away

“Slip Slidin’ Away” written by Paul Simon, from the album “Still Cray After All These Years”

I have been familiar with Paul Simon’s music for a number of years maybe beginning in the late ‘60s and certainly continually since the mid-‘70s, when I am guessing his fame was at its pinnacle after having recently separated from his childhood friend and musical partner Art Garfunkel. I attended his concert at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium in ’76-’77. I was too musically immature to truly appreciate him and he seemed too soft rock/pop for my tastes at that time. I purchased most of his albums over the years, but rarely kept them on regular rotation.

My music listening has increased tremendously in the last few years. Most likely Apple and its iPod are responsible for my renewed focus on music. Now I focus much more on the lyrics. While I still like a good rock song my aging tastes lean toward acoustic, thoughtful, and insightful. Simon’s song writing fits the bill nicely.

Simon’s latest CD and tour titled “So Beautiful or So What” intrigued me enough to experience both. I purchased two tickets and invited my cousin from Oregon to accompany me to the April concert. The show was very good until the encore, and then it was amazing. Simon walked out by himself with an acoustic guitar and started into “The Sound of Silence.” I was stunned by the beauty and poetic nature of the song that I overlooked until now:

Hello darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone

Narrow streets of cobblestone

'Neath the halo of a street lamp

I turned my collar to the cold and damp

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never share

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools", said I, "You do not know

Silence like a cancer grows

Hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you"

But my words, like silent raindrops fell

And echoed

In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made

And the sign flashed its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls

And tenement halls"

And whispered in the sound of silence

Prior to that concert the only version I had heard was the version with Garfunkel, it was nice just not poignant to me. The version on his latest collection of songs “Paul Simon Songwriter” is the song I heard him sing, twice and both were spellbinding. There is also a version on his album “Paul Simon Songbook” that sounds stark and angry, which also works.

While I didn’t initially appreciate the song many others have for decades. According to Wikipedia: "The Sound of Silence" is the song that propelled Simon & Garfunkel to popularity. It was written in February 1964 by Paul Simon in the aftermath of the 1963 assassination of John F. Kennedy. While the song was a hit and is the 18^th most recorded song with five million plus performances, according BMI, it still feels underrated and taken for granted.

Having now seen Simon twice in concert this year, once in April and again in October because I wanted my Love to experience the musical beauty of that song and the entire concert. The second time around I was able to better appreciate the songs and the band. The autumn show was looser and tighter. The band’s stage presence seemed more relaxed, despite guitarist/multi-instrumentalist Mark Stewart suffering a rather significant bike riding accident earlier that day.

I am making up for all the unappreciated Simon years by listening frequently to my Paul Simon playlist. A number of his songs have lyrics that are poignant and poetic. He captures a feeling that is universal in a very poetic manner. The song “I Am a Rock” is a perfect companion to “The Sound of Silence.”.

A winter's day

In a deep and dark December;

I am alone,

Gazing from my window to the streets below

On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.

I am a rock,

I am an island.

I've built walls,

A fortress deep and mighty,

That none may penetrate.

I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.

It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.

I am a rock,

I am an island.

Don't talk of love,

Well, I've heard the word before.

It's sleeping in my memory.

I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.

If I never loved I never would have cried.

I am a rock,

I am an island.

I have my books

And my poetry to protect me;

I am shielded in my armor,

Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.

I touch no one and no one touches me.

I am a rock,

I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;

And an island never cries.

Simon has been a singer/song writer for nearly 50 years now, depending when on when you start the clock, and as popular, talented, and world renown yet I believe he is still underrated.

His music is very melodic and his voice is soft. Unlike Bob Dylan, Simon has not been in the news much for an infamous personal life. The only three major headlines I can think of for Simon include the breakup of Simon and Garfunkel, the divorce from Princess Lea (Carrie Fisher), and the non-controversy of his incorporating South African music into his CD; really he was exploring and pushing the limits of his creativity. So, no headlines, smooth voice, and literary lyrics combine to stifle the attention his work receives.

Additionally there is nothing racy about his lyrics. He mentions “stepping out to smoke a J” in “Late in the Evening,” and “Duncan” starts off about a couple that could win a prize for going at it all night long; “Old” references the first time he tried marijuana and his feeling of paranoia. These are genteel compared to say Dylan’s “Let’s Go Get Stoned” or many, many other songs.

The painter/photographer Chuck Close writes in the forward to Paul Simon’s book “Paul Simon Lyrics 1964-2008,” that no less a composer than Philip Glass has called Paul the greatest songwriter of our time.

And I am heading for a place of quiet

Where the sage and sweet grass grow

By a lake of scared water

From the mountain’s melted snow

“Quiet” by Paul Simon