Tag: Warren Zevon

Monday Morning…Zevon, Caffeine and Viruses

His comrades fought beside him, Van Owen and the rest
But of all the Thompson gunners, Roland was the best
So the CIA decided they wanted Roland dead
That son of a bitch Van Owen blew off Roland’s head

There is always something something soothing in the words of Warren Zevon, even when they describe the wandering ghost of a Biafran War veteran. They make the human condition, well, more human.

And the human condition is an important thing to remember on a Monday morning. With headlines shrieking of suffering, you have to sit back and wonder why; why are we still here?

I called up my friend LeRoy on the phone
I said, Buddy, I’m afraid to be alone
‘Cause I got some weird ideas in my head
About things to do in Denver when you’re dead

The virus I have in my system right now has a greater chance of surviving into the next century than the human race does. And sometimes I wonder if Zevon and Gunter Thompson always knew that, and used this knowledge to fuel a life of what we see as madness. In fact, their madness has a stronger truth than the artifical and virtual lives so many of us (including your author) lead.

It’s not melancholy that drives this rambling rant; it is a smiling realization that we are all the same, and in the end, for 99.99% of us, life is pretty darn empty in the end.

Well, I pawned my Smith Corona
And I went to meet my man
He hangs out down on Alvarado Street
By the Pioneer chicken stand

Carmelita hold me tighter
I think I’m sinking down
And I’m all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town

The words of a strung out junkie can ring more true in this world than the pronouncements of great people. The battles we, the 99.99% unwashed masses, face everyday are what keep societies working. Without our willingness to get up and battle every day, the great people would drown in a wave of chaos that makes today’s world seem like a tea party.

Viruses have it easy. The dead have it easy. It’s the living who stare down that dark tunnel every morning, and walk toward the deeping darkness (humans who say they see the light are more deluded than the rest of us).

Embrace viruses; embrace pain; embrace love; embrace every breath you take.

In the end, that’s what you take with you.

Left eye, right eye
Take a look around
Everybody’s heading
For a hole in the ground
And it’s the Dance of Shiva
It’s the Twilight of the Gods
Thunder and lightning
‘Til the break of dawn

Monkey wash donkey rinse
Going to a party in the center of the earth
Monkey wash donkey rinse
Honey, don’t you want to go?

Tamiani Trail Synchonicity

I cashed in the last of my Triple B bonds
Bought a double-wide on the Tamiani Trail
I parked it right outside the reservation
Fifteen minutes from the Collier County Jail
And the SEC is far behind
Down in the swamp with the gators and flamingos
A long way from Liechtenstein
I’m a junk bond king playing Seminole Bingo
Well, the SEC is far behind
Down in the swamp with the gators and flamingos
A long way from Liechtenstein
I’m a junk bond king playing Seminole Bingo
Seminole Bingo

Warren Zevon

I was listening to this song while reading this.

You don’t often have a synchronistic experience involving the Tamiani Trail. And after reading the post, and listening to the song, I can almost feel the swamp surrounding me as I wade through the primeval much searching for my lost dabber, absorbing the desperate failure in the eyes of the bingo zombies and other refugees and outcasts from the Great Society.

Copyright © 2024 Performance Zen

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑