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About Me
- fred c
- Mr. C is: a reformed lawyer; a religious atheist; a useful "Handy Man;" an amateur social scientist; a beloved teacher; a well liked husband and father; Ambassador Emeritus from, and to, Planet X; a freelance professor; taxi driver to the stars (Joe DiMaggio and Ronald McDonald, both out of uniform); an excellent fire fighter; an enthusiastic but untalented musician; an experienced counselor; a top-notch disk jockey; an all around get-along-guy; a cunning linguist; a would-be lifestyle victim; a Masonic wannabe; a frequent reader; Professor Irwin Corey's Ph.D. adviser; an accomplished driver and motorcyclist; a famous rockologist; a reliable but indifferent bullshit detective; a poor speller; a proud United States Navy veteran (honorably discharged, barely); the Ayatollah of Ass-o-Hola; a drug legend; a Returned Peace Corps volunteer (Thailand); a generally charming man; nationally and internationally known from coast to coast; a legend in his own mind; a cultural-anthropological critic-at-large; an avenging angel who coolly bides his time; Soul Brother number 37; and a friend to the poor.
Blog Archive
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2008
(424)
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July
(34)
- Thailand’s a Fun Country
- Oh! It’s all just too exciting.
- Dear Finder of Fact
- Mr. Fred, Oh! The Lucky One
- My City
- Joseph Tanaka, August 15, 1948 to August 27, 1948
- Et in Arcadia, Ego
- Portrait of a Dash
- Mr. Fred's Unpopular Poetry Corner: The Dash
- Why I love Fox News
- Anthrax
- Farang Fatigue
- Poetry Review: The Waste Land, or, The Tyrany of F...
- Comment on a Comment Elsewhere
- Picture of the Day: Wedding Photo
- Challenging Coincidences
- Mr. Fred's (Short) Poetry Corner
- Movie Review: The Duelist (Korean, 2007?)
- Go Back In Time
- Picture of the Day
- I Told You So
- Bridge on the River Kwai
- Mini, or "Brief," Bio
- What Does Woman Want?
- Public Service Announcement Re: Marriage
- This Blogging Thing
- David E’s Fablog Makes Me Cry
- Movie Review: Godzilla, Mothra, King Ghidora
- Was It Good For You?
- Slow Day
- Another Thai Bus
- Why Blog?
- The Universe and Everything
- Time On My Hands
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July
(34)
4 comments:
Boy, that College Point, I guess living there for only 13 years made me miss some of the excitement but not all! I have good and bad memories from the Point but mostly good.
Ann Ceely
In my little town
I grew up believing
God keeps his eye on us all
And he used to lean upon me
As I pledged allegiance to the wall
Lord I recall
My little town
Coming home after school
Flying my bike past the gates
Of the factories
My mom doing the laundry
Hanging our shirts
In the dirty breeze
And after it rains
Theres a rainbow
And all of the colors are black
Its not that the colors arent there
Its just imagin-ation they lack
Everythings the same
Back
in my little town
Nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
Nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
In my little town
I never meant nothin
I was just my fathers son
Saving my money
Dreaming of glory
Twitching like a finger
On the trigger of a gun
Leaving nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
Nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town...
--Words & music by paul simon 1975
I used to live in new york city
Every thing there was dark and dirty
Outside my window was a steeple
With a clock that always said 12:30
Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.
At first so strange to feel so friendly
To say good morning and really mean it
To feel these changes happening in me
But not to notice till I feel it.
Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.
Cloudy waters cast no reflection
Images of beauty lie there stagnant
Vibrations bounce in no direction
And lie there shattered into fragments.
Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.
-12:30 by John Sebastian, Mommas and Pappas
Paul Simon grew up in Queens, near Queens College, in the "Electchester" (sic) co-op apartments. They'd been built by the electricians union for members. My last apartment in New York was in the next group of buildings over, the Pomonak Housing Projects.
Paul was a good kid to know, an organizer of fun things. Like when his parents weren't home he'd organize a porn party, rent the projecter, get the movies. He was a friend of a friend.
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