The Hammock Papers: It's the dreaming that's real

18 January 2010

It's the dreaming that's real

Two Djinn
Bob Weir

Out on the road in West Marin
In a cloud of dust I met two djinn
One was bright as pride and thin
The other was fat and black as sin
Isn't this how all good tales begin

The big one looked a lot like you
The other one looked just like you too
They wound me round, they ran me through
A score of lies they swore were true
Isn't that what genies always do

Night come sudden, dawn be soon
Bide my time by the dark of the moon
My strange heroes lead me on
But when I get there they'll be gone

Ever since I was a pup
Deal was I'd sing before I'd sup
My silver spoon's this beggar's cup
And when it's empty I fill up
All I have to do is just show up

The prophet said all flesh is grass
He had a soul like old stained glass
A smile as sweet as sasafrass
Well that ol' boy can kiss my ass
Who the hell can wait for life to pass

I'm going to Adam's home in a world that we can't see
To sing drunk with the angels, play again for free
The way that is no way is calling you to me
If we don't believe together, we might just cease to be

Way down by the shining gate
The djinn revealed to me my fate
You and I, we've got a date
I'll be there, but you'll be late
Maybe things really comes to those that wait

Those two djinn they couldn't stay
Chased away by dawn's first rays
They called back as they ran away
They told me, "Have a real fine day"
Isn't that what genies always say?

A short while back the door flung wide
We all saw good luck on the other side
The door blew shut but here's the deal
Dreams are lies, it's the dreaming that's real

It's the dreaming that's real
Dreams are lies, it's the dreaming that's real
Dreaming that's real

It's the dreaming that's real
Dreaming that's real
Dreaming that's real
Dreaming that's real

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WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART

"When I am, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone and of good cheer – say travelling in a carriage or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep – it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best and most abundantly. Whence, and how, they come I know not ; nor can I force them. Those ideas that please me I retain in memory and am accustomed, as I have been told, to hum them to myself. If I continue in this way, it soon occurs to me how I may turn this dainty morsel to account, so as to make a good dish of it. That is to say, agreeable to the rules of counterpoint, to the peculiarities of various instruments etc. All this fires my soul, and, provided I am not disturbed, my subject enlarges itself, becomes methodised, and defined, and the whole, though it be long, stands almost complete and finished in my mind, so that I can survey it like a fine picture or a beautiful statue at a glance. Nor do I hear in my imagination the parts successively, but I hear them, as it were, all at once. What a delight this is, I cannot tell."

MARCUS AURELIUS

"Is your cucumber bitter? Throw it away. Are there briars in your path? Turn aside. That is enough. Do not go on and say, 'Why were things of this sort ever brought into this world?' neither intolerable nor everlasting - if thou bearest in mind that it has its limits, and if thou addest nothing to it in imagination. Pain is either an evil to the body (then let the body say what it thinks of it!)-or to the soul. But it is in the power of the soul to maintain its own serenity and tranquility."

VINCENT van GOGH

"What am I in the eyes of most people? A nonentity or an oddity or a disagreeable person — someone who has and will have no position in society, in short a little lower than the lowest. Very well — assuming that everything is indeed like that, then through my work I’d like to show what there is in the heart of such an oddity, such a nobody. This is my ambition, which is based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Even though I’m often in a mess, inside me there’s still a calm, pure harmony and music. In the poorest little house, in the filthiest corner, I see paintings or drawings. And my mind turns in that direction as if with an irresistible urge. As time passes, other things are increasingly excluded, and the more they are the faster my eyes see the picturesque. Art demands persistent work, work in spite of everything, and unceasing observation."

DAN CAMPBELL