DA 2006: Fun(d) Page (When was the last time you couldn't help smiling?)
Dolphin Address 23
September 25th 2006
Let's have some remotely mindless fun. You remember this beetleband from a long, long time ago, your father should know, or was it your mother? I fooled around with some of their lyrical strophes, see if you can spot the odd 'seven(teen)' differences thoughts.
‘Day after day, alone on a field.
Here I stand with empty hands.
It’s been a hard day’s fright.
Falling, yes I am falling and no one’s calling me back again.
Nothing’s for real.
Yesterday, when my troubles seemed so far away.
Help, I see somebody.
Did I tell you to feed me?
I never asked you for money, I only sent you my evocations.
Boy, you’re gonna carry that wave, a long time.
And in their eyes you see nothing, no sign of love, not even tears.
And all the people that come and go, are one in a row.
I want you, I want you too bad, it’s driving me mad!
Because the wind is high, it shows my mind.
Oh, that magic feeling, somewhere to go.
Dying to take you away, take you today!
Help me get my feet up from the ground.
Don’t let me down?’
That should not be too hard for you ‘walking antiques’(Dylan). If you like, it’s just for fun(d), you know, send your Solutions by snail mail to:
Jan Ploeg/Siopa Fanoir/Craggagh/Fanore by Galway/
Co. Clare/Ireland.
As I am running low on funds you are also invited to keeping me from having to gradually close down my pride and joy:
‘Dolphin Address’, recently referred to as one of the last vestiges of genuine wonder and amazement:
‘The day breaks, my mind aches, I churn a slash of water ‘tween my cheeks until the bite has gone. Sense after sentence must by won like from hard reading. As a cluster of sunshine calves are tanning on Cape Cowskull. A milky rainbow downs a relic foothold upon Connemara. The rocks brush their teeth in the snowwashing crestbreak. The wet grasses snuggle between a rock gather and spark to the sun. Camomile flowers wave at me on crooked shafts and a fierce quiver runs through a nosegay of perishing saltweed. A Gannet black and white wings by on a remote stalk glide. Golden lichen against the clear blue fond of a restless ocean. A late bee buzzes by-bye. An overkill of beauty on an empty stomach. I let my muesli steep in cold milk and slowly slurp it from the panlet. Is trans late or in time? Should I free myself from thinking in the shadows of the English tongue? A gull gusts by, turns and hovers, spying in the wind.
What can I do? So many tales to tell on dead end road. Five years, the girls and boys were talking, I drew my love from the depths of the ocean and offered it on your silvery screens. Just cannot pay my bills with a smile, but feel awkward to charge you. I see no option but to invite you to help me maintain my budgetary equilibrium by donation.
I’m kicking off a serial:
In ’66-’67 I hitchhiked through Europe down to Israel and wrote this down over 30 years later in my final liberation from MD affliction, ’99. Come celebrate it as a feast of freedom, weekly alternating English and Dutch versions. It will, however, have to be fuelled as I don’t want to leave you hanging from a cliff while I’m dropping over the edge. You’ll get into it; just watch it for a few editions. Stick up a thumb tenner. Same keeps for the irregular posting of ‘Dolphin Address’.
My upper- and best neighbour, Willem Verhulst, kindly corrects the serial into intelligible English. Three cheers, two pints and a bear hug for Willem!!!
Jan Ploeg, Shed Fanore, September 25th 2006
(So, when was the last time you couldn't help smiling?)
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