Sunday, October 20, 2002


New York Times piece on the cultural shift taking place on New Yorks Lower East Side.

A fantastic article in the New York Times magazine on income distribution and inequality in the U.S.

More than 30 years late, some kind of justice is seen to be done. Charlie Robertson, mayor of a small town in America has been found guilty of murder following the death of a young woman during riots in 1969. Here is some background.. And some more.

Article on Kurt Cobain
Click this and scroll down a bit and you can see his journals, as written by himself.

The Sopranos returns on Thursday. I know I should be happy, but once it's come and gone what will there be to look forward to?

Really good La Times article and interview with Johnny Cash. Reg might be required, I'm not sure.

Favourite lyrics today
Sunday Morning Coming Down
Well I woke up Sunday morning
with no way to hold my head
that didn't hurt
and the beer I had for breakfast wasn't
bad so I had one more for dessert

Then I fumbled through my closet
for my clothes
and found my cleanest dirty shirt
and I shaved my face
and combed my hair
and stumbled down the stairs
to meet the day

I'd smoked my brain the night before
with cigarettes and songs
that I've been pickin'
but I lit my first and watched a small kid
cussin' at a can that he was kickin

Then I crossed the empty street and
caught the sunday smell
of someone fryin chicken
and it took me back to something
that I'd lost somehow
somewhere along the way

On the sunday morning sidewalk
wishing lord that I was stoned
cause there's something in a Sunday
that makes a body feel alone
and there's nothing short of dying
half as lonesome as the sound
on the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy
with a laughing little girl
he was swingin
and I stopped beside the Sunday school
and listened to the song
that they were singing

Then I headed back for home
and somewhere far away
a lonely bell was ringing
and it echoed thru the canyon like
the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On the Sunday morning sidewalk
wishing lord that I was stoned
cause there's something in a Sunday
that makes a body feel alone
and there's nothing short of dying
half as lonesome as the sound
on the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down



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