The Boxer - Simon and Garfunkel

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know


Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there


Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Bleeding me, going home

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that layed him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains

From the motorcycle diaries...

I wonder what I would do when I'm at this point in life... would she say yes and join me in my foolish adventures? Would I give up my dreams? Or yet, would I get the steel and courage to choose the boat? I wonder...

I heard splashing on the boat
her bare feet
And sensed in our faces
the hungry dusk
My heart swaying between her
and the street, the road
I don't know where I found the strength
to free myself from her eyes
to slip from her arms
She stayed, crying through rain and glass
clouded with grief and tears
She stayed, unable to cry
Wait! I will come
walking with you.

Miguel Otero Silva

We're just two lost souls swimmin' in a fish bowl.. year after year. Runnin' over the same ol' ground, and how we found.. the same ol' fears... How I wish you were here...

We have been doing that for 3 years now.. and sometimes, I just can't help wonder.. we lead such automatic lives, wake up, rush to work, and spend a day waiting for it to end so we can just get home to another long night... alienated in all aspects from the world, hidden within ourselves, living in our own private worlds.. and with each passing day, Roger Waters seems to make more sense, ranting about the drudgery of our lives, seeking happiness in comfort, numb to everything else... if there was indeed Heaven on Earth, how would we know? Living for the future, living in the past, refusing change, frustrated, depressed..why indeed do we push ourselves through this when we know the fickleness of life...
Because the future is indeed important, we have responsibilities we cannot squander away, and this is probably a lifelong learning experience... and the hope that once that future is indeed as secure as is humanly possible, there is the chance that we can start writing the bucket list, and actually live like there was no tomorrow. But to reach that beautiful sandy beach and that vast expanse of reckless adventure, we need to hack our ways through the wilderness, filled with thorns, slippery stones, quicksand and every other possibly imaginable obstacle... everything that tests whether you have the guts, the endurance, and the undying passion to reach that place; cos' if we din't, it is just so easy to give up, lie down and say that it doesn't matter that much to me. Living forever in that wilderness, lost, lonely and searching... that's just not cool. And the journey, I guess, isn't going to be that bad all through; indeed the blues never last all out. For, without those breaks, without the little pieces of happiness we inevitably get, I guess we would all be dead men walking. And if it is indeed a bad attack of the blues, all it takes is a minute to just lie down on the grass and look up at the clouds rolling by, feel the wind on your face, feel insignificant and tiny beneath the vast expanse of blue...though the blues won't go away, you still feel a little better, a little less sad, and there will be a chance to smile... and that might make all the difference!!

She walks in beauty-Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear, their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Oh, such a pretty song! Reminds me so of her, of basking in that light...

Mr. Tambourine Man-Bob Dylan

Couldn't be a happier song in the world!! Apart from the drug references, I believe it's just a song that takes you to that 'happy place' in your mind, the place you go to when you sit back in comfort and let your mind wander... go swimming through time, laughing in your mind, a smile plays on your lips... and you sing along, in moments of pure happiness. And the world is a beautiful place, filled with magic swirling ships, rolling meadows under a bright sun that you go runnin' in, singin' laughin' spinnin' with hands flailing in joy... aaaaahhh!!!


Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand,
Vanished from my hand,
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun,
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind,
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant--
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.


Max Ehrmann