Queen of Sweden at Paul McCartney’s apartment 1967

11 05 2014

Queen of Sweden at Paul McCartney's apartment 1967

Gone fishing

2 04 2014

gone fishingThere is a Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby song that I love. Its called ‘gone fishing’.


‘and I won’t back down’

27 03 2014

And I won't back downI became a fan of Tom Petty. Especially his song about rebellion. And I won’t back down.

by David Halliday



Roberto Matta

25 01 2014

What does it all mean? Surrealist art screams this out. But does not answer.

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Marnie Weber

7 12 2013

Marnie Weber.

This artist certainly has a broad paint brush. Her work is fanciful, immersed in the fanciful nightmares of early childhood. I am not sure where it is headed. Perhaps she will come up with some more surprises in her next work.

Rétrospective Marnie Weber au Magasin (Grenoble) by sloggysa

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Alessandro Bavari

6 12 2013

His work reaches into the bizarre. Perhaps even the horrible. Reminding one of the Dutch painters in the middle ages, Brueghel and Bosch. Alessandro Bavari.

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Anita O’Day

25 11 2013

This singer is one of the most alluring figures I have ever seen on stage. Her life was tragic. But listen to that voice. A poem about her appears in my ebook, Saints of Jazz


Anita O’Day (October 18, 1919 – November 23, 2006)

The doctors leaned over. Slit open Anita’s throat. Like they were parting the Red Sea. Like they were opening a zipper. White Studebakers rolled slowly down the lane. Her eyes opened with surprise. A gurgle that sounded like laughter.

On the road. Cheek against the glass. Too many buses. Too many stops. In empty rooms. Too many handsome men with dark sunglasses. And wicked laughs. Garters slid so slowly down a calf. And you sometimes had to wait hours. For the sun to reappear. Empty hearts. And wallets. Promises were made. So sweet. The morning light. Stockings over chairs.

Raped in a gas station washroom. 31 storms crossed 6 states. Killing 340. The worst smog in London. Four to 8,000 died. But who’s counting. The floor was wet. And the mirror was out of focus. A radio was crying. A Studebaker pulled up for gas.

Too many hangers dripping. With dreams. Too many office buildings after hours. Elevators out of service. Too much talk about nothing. A heart sling. Gin, lemon juice, sugar, and soda. And His name in vain. Thrown at the shadows from the chair over there. Too many cloudy mirrors. Too many cheap diners. Too many miles going nowhere. Too many walls for company.


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