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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
 Posted - 06/20/2012 : 22:13:30
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"Be careful who you tell your secrets to", she reminded.
"Some times, the best surprises are the least expected", he retorted.
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see..."
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Edited by - Craig on 06/24/2012 20:31:22 |
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San Diego
Swinger
509 Posts |
Posted - 06/21/2012 : 19:36:43
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 Yes, the best surprises are the least expected.
"...and...no sunglasses after midnight..." |
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San Diego
Swinger
509 Posts |
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Joe Z
Windchimer
USA
1819 Posts |
Posted - 07/01/2012 : 08:17:30
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Though never payed for his bit part, Mickey appeared in “Skins” - aka “Gang Boys” - starring producer Wings Hauser and Linda Blair. The movie deals with a dysfunctional family that through a hate crime finds love again. Mickey played a crazy street preacher and had his hair dyed white. Hobbling across a Hollywood street at night - cane in one hand, bible raised in the other - Reverend Newbury scream-preaches the word of the New Testament, Matthew 5:39 and 5:44:
“Love your enemies! Do good unto those who would curse you! Pray for those who would wish you ill will! He is coming! If a man slaps you on the cheek (here he slaps his face hard), turn your other cheek! Listen to me brothers! For how could I know beauty without having first known ugliness? How could I know the light without having walked in the darkness? Yes brothers, listen to me if you have ears. He is coming!”
Now across the street, Newbury turns his attention to a man leaning on a streetlamp, eating a sandwich.
Newbury: “What do you think brother? I don’t believe he’s ever left here.”
Man: “Brother all I’ve got is a cold cheeseburger and a sore ass from riding the Greyhound all night. OK? I ain’t got no money!”
Newbury: “I don’t want your money. Just a few kind words.”
Man: “You want a kind word? Hollywood. God bless you.”
Better lines could not have been scripted for his role. Friends know he was a religious man... not fire and brimstone, verse and chapter, but in a way that can be described as spiritually perceptive. He made many mistakes but did his best to live by his priorities - God, family and friends. In a world intoxicated by celebrity, Hollywood starlet Terry Moore said she, “didn't know anyone who worked harder at not being a star than Mickey.” Best friend Marty Hall concurred, “I never saw Mickey not be completely humble.”
Indeed, some of his best performances were offstage. “If I wanted to make money,” he proclaimed, “I could have been a preacher. I’d a made more money than any television preacher alive... because I’m not only a student of the bible, but I can write songs and sing songs... You know I could have been the richest preacher that ever walked this earth... But we all got to die one of these days... And you better be a good preacher you know.” Newbury’s idea of a good preacher? “There’s not a hair’s difference between Billy Graham and somebody laying in an alley, and Billy Graham knows that. When I met him, I was prepared to not like him because most famous people are in it for the money. But he was an impressive man.”
“I occasionally speak to God... occasionally every other hour. I never ask for anything but his blessing and the wisdom to be the vessel he intended. I have no fear of death because I am certain you cannot kill a Christian. If every soul in the world wants to live his or her life in doubt and fear... have at it! We all have the freedom of our will. I will not... will not... be afraid... Many people who go to church are afraid to die. I’m not.”
Sunday morning found him lyin’...
SAN FRANCISCO MABEL JOY
To illustrate the point, Newbury wrote a reply to the author’s expressed fear of flying. “It has been my observation... most folks go through life fearing the very things... in probability, that will never touch them. ‘Death’ or our departure from this... at times... most difficult life is God’s plan for a better life and yet... is looked on as something to fear. Faith is the only answer... Faith in something we cannot see. It is difficult... I cannot see the radio wave but I know without a doubt it exists... The proof... I have heard the radio. So... when someone tells you they will worship only what they can see... pity them, their ignorance, for what is unseen is just as real and... at times... ALL that is Real. Have faith, for nothing on this earth but your fear can harm you.”
LEAD ON I will follow
Although my wayward ship be tossed and rolled
I will find no shelter from this troubled sea
No other place on earth to save my soul
During the author’s visit to Mickey’s home in Springfield, he demonstrated “how energy flows between people.” At a distance of one foot, he asked me to look him straight in the eyes. He gazed at me with one eye for a few seconds and both eyes suddenly. When he turned full vision directly on me, the energy flow was immediate and intense. Mick explained his view that people are “on different frequencies” and one’s frequency is transmitted by this energy. We can however be on the same wavelength as another person, man or woman, and this serves as a basic explanation of soul mate. The Radioman explained this is how prayer works - how Jesus hears everyone - sort of like a spiritual, wideband radio transceiver. The proposition that thought travels is not a novel concept. The narrative, though, illustrates how Newbury dug deeper into established hypotheses.
Starin’ out the window all I wish is
I could hear the words I’m hearin’ in my head
THE SAILOR
I know your sorrow I know your pain I know your need
THE FUTURE’S NOT WHAT IT USED TO BE
I wish that I
Could not read her mind
And see all her pain
HOW MANY TIMES MUST THE PIPER BE PAID FOR HIS SONG
(from C&S)
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Becka
Sitter
95 Posts |
Posted - 07/01/2012 : 15:23:44
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I was told about San Diego's video clip of Mick and Joe's comment. Had to come check it out for myself!! Joe, thanks! A continuation of Crystal and Stone. I love all the tid-bits.
Love,
Becka (the "special" one)
I still have the book going round getting autographs. Guy Clark signed it a couple of months ago....
This room gets hot in a hurry.
So THAT'S why the flames are there... !! |
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San Diego
Swinger
509 Posts |
Posted - 07/01/2012 : 17:31:30
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Joe, the preacher speech took place in room 918 at the Village Green Motel for a PBS taping. It was a dark and cloudy afternoon and Mick was sitting in front of a large picture window. "...but you gotta be a good preacher, you know..." the grin when he raised his hand to the sky outside. At that moment the sun appeared blindingly.
"I can write songs and sing songs..." God bless him.
Love you,
Ro |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 07/01/2012 : 17:34:19
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| Road trips. Mythic fevers. Flash-card mirage. Hive of light around them. Desert towns where the cataclysmic mountains lay their minerals down. Blur of smoke trees. Drifting sand with its cut-glass secrets. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 05/16/2020 18:37:19 |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/02/2012 : 19:52:24
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Rev Buckman discusses darkness...
Carmelita asked me why I chose to sit in the darkness so much.
I laughed and said that when I lost my family and my religion,
the darkness just kind of chose me.
I stood up and moved closer and we danced gently to a Newbury Waltz;
I could smell the sunshine on her.
I told her how apart I felt, how I lived but did not live,
how a veil separates me from the rest,
and that if she knew who she was really dancing with
she would leave.
She tossed back her aching beauty and laughed
and said, Don't you really know?
We are all like that, every one of us.
I try to believe her,
but belief is a strange and difficult thing this far into the darkness;
So far into it that I can hardly hear the music anymore...
http://youtu.be/naP6VX-k5Tw -- [Listen to it, Ailinn. Rev]
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 07/03/2012 : 00:08:10
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...days gone by...
When I took the bullet out of his chest
He didn't flinch or change his expression
The way he let the water
Run over his head for so long
Made me think he had a fever
He has scars that shine in the moonlight
Brighter than the rest of his skin
His eyes are blue and his hair is silver
But I can't tell you what he looks like
It was dark
Or his hat was pulled low
And his mouth was covered
With a bandana |
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San Diego
Swinger
509 Posts |
Posted - 07/03/2012 : 19:43:41
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Video note: Mick's crossing Hollywood Blvd. Down the street is Walk of Fame, Grauman's Chinese, Madame Tussaud's and the Roosevelt Hotel with Hockney's squiggly swimming pool. Hollywood sign at the end of the clip is at the corner of La Brea over the controversial stainless steel "Four Ladies".
PS: Reverend B- Still listening but can't pick a favorite. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/03/2012 : 20:58:07
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http://youtu.be/42KE4GQPKLI
Nightly Vigil At The Cafe Lupe
It is dusk.The Cafe is empty
The kerosene lamps yellow glow
Throws shadows against the adobe.
I turn up the chairs on the tables.
Sweep the dirt into a pile by the door
Outside the street is deserted
Except for stoney-eyed horses
shivering with equine fear.
How the land falls away from us!
You stand beside me looking out from under
Your wide hat dreaming of horses.
Your eyes trace the hawks flight
Above the canyons
I lower my eyes against what you know.
Your atavistic knowledge.
When I look back again
Your eyes have turned to stars.[ROR]
"[Where are the stars? I see only holes.
A light from behind the sky makes it's way through...
touches the Earth and traces the ground until once again
the midnight sun falls quietly over the edge.
You can tell the moon is full, some crazy Cowboy tried to
gun down the wind again this morning.]"
[MN]
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/04/2012 : 06:18:48
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-Days gone by...
I love this old room.
The figurines on the tabletops.
The dusty pictures on the walls.
The white bearded handsome man
that sings his waltzes quietly in the corner.
The friends stopping by on the odd nite.
But, Oh what a pallette the Irish Lady paints with!
Her colours from The West set my heart ablaze!
I could listen to her paint all nite. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 07/04/2012 : 16:08:44
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| Sweet memories, Henry. Love, Ro |
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San Diego
Swinger
509 Posts |
Posted - 07/16/2012 : 17:00:47
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It was the summer Sugarland dredgers were moving lagoon sand onto the beach. Miles of pipe and colossal equipment in the water moving two-plus million cubic yards. I was working on the Neptune Avenue Project with its theme of falling houses and those with the will to still live in them. I told Mick about the cliff house that half slipped away. The people preparing supper in a kitchen with no walls open to the sky. From the beach you could look up and see the Coleman Lamps, a bowl with fruit, wine bottles and dishes on the table where they were enjoying a meal. The wine and the fruit...a surreal vision. Eden to Moonlight the Sugarland crews moved sand all summer long. The geological engineers with their hardhats and clipboards poked at the cliffs collcting samples. The buildings contractors and inspectors blocked driveways on the narrow road. The concrete pumpers along the bluffs at sunset looked like prehistoric birds. Mick had an idea how to stabilize the cliffs that involved something like Silly Putty and a web-like scrim. He had an original mind and was mechanically inclined to the point of invention. The uninsurable houses were rebuilt while the people continued living inside them. "...there's mystery in hope..." Mick said.
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Edited by - San Diego on 05/16/2020 18:33:38 |
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San Diego
Swinger
509 Posts |
Posted - 07/20/2012 : 22:16:13
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| I didn't grow up with other kids. My friends were Tommy the chauffer and his rebelious sweetheart, Birdie. Birdie's family didn't approve of Tommy. Her father was a circuit court judge at Foley Square and leaned heavily on his gavel. "Foley's tyrant," Birdie called him. Her mother Moira worked for Milton Cross at the Metropolitan Opera and had arranged a position for Birdie when she checked out of Barnard. But Birdie loved Tommy and Tommy loved Jazz. Tommy played trumpet when he wasn't cruising Central Park West. Took us to places in the Village musicians would head for when they landed at Port Authority. Park the limo in alleyways lined with lovers and garbage cans. Some nights we'd hang out at his flat. Two rooms on a short street with fire escapes and climbing ivy. No chairs. Just their shared bed with its myriad pillows and "borrowed" monogramed sheets. They drank scotch whiskey and I drank cocoa made with hot water from the tap. I was thirteen. The El stopped at the corner. Hushed and beautiful on nights when it snowed. "A life like that... Could not be lived today..." Mick said, and played some notes that sounded like those heart driven years. I miss him. The quick climb into his mind. His acute curiosity and Code history. A man you could tell the truth to. I wish people would write more about him here. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/21/2012 : 06:03:30
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After the Fiesta, with the little town and my family dead,
I need to be alone...
I ride North and East for many days
Where to be October means something.
Where I ran and fished and hunted
As a child and learned the ways
Of the woods and of the Great One.
The trees are aflame in their private moondance of fire.
Against the blue of the Hudson River
Reflecting the cliff faces of Storm King,
It plays the illusion the Old Ones called
Riverdeep mountainhigh.
There is and will be another story for each of us.
The long golden tale of each precious life.
Some filled with love, Some filled with loss,
Mostly a measure of both.
Evry turn in the river
Takes the story to a new place.
Some we choose and some are chosen for us.
But, we are each of us even Now, immortal...
Whether to Heaven or Hell eventually,
our spirits will All be Forever...
That choice is always ours and ours alone...
How dim sometimes the Light we follow seems.
But when we get out from the towns and their false glow that
Robs our vision; Out under nothing but the sky and His face,
Our eyes will again divine the light and
The path thru the forest will shine like the Sun.
I smile to think of my past families,
Now gone on high, that walked this riverbank
With me so long ago.
They were so like the October trees,
Aflame and dancing with color and
Great beauty just before their private
Winter came and turned them gray.
In the creeping darkness, I whisper a prayer
That they would greet me in the spring
As the trees will, Reborn and ready
For another fling Around the Dancefloor.
From The Nightly Vigil - The Journals of Rev Buckman
AUDIO AT http://youtu.be/p_odghSUOxA |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 07/26/2012 : 17:03:26
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SAPELO AND EVERY PLACE BETWEEN
Has this old car got one more road trip in it?
Come on, Gregory, tell me that it's true
"Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it"
But Goethe, he can't fix a car like you
I dream of high roads winding through the Rockies
A silent film in which I get to star
Going to drive until I wake up in the talkies
Come on Ruby, time to burn the tar
I may not have the money but I'm going
Hell, I'm no good at stealing gasoline
But I've got a rubber hose, gonna suck until it flows
Head to Sapelo and every place between
From Moose Jaw to the Black Hills of Dakota
Roads that I first travelled as a boy
Stop off in old North Hibbing, Minnesota
And Benford's place in Springfield, Illinois
Detour to Bloomington, Indiana, too
And Honkytonk House down in Ohio
Float my Bonneville canoe down to Hillbilly Haiku
And slumber on the Cumberland, you know
I may not have the money but I'm going
Hell, I'm no good at stealing gasoline
But I've got a rubber hose, gonna suck until it flows
Head to Sapelo and every place between
I'm getting old, I've run out of excuses
Working for a living's killing me
Time to live my hymn and swim with the Medusas
Perseus has no truck in Tennessee
Has this old car got one more road trip in it?
Betcha heaven's on a dirt road, Larry Jon
"Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it"
Kindred spirits waiting at the gates of dawn...
I may not have the money but I'm going
Hell, I'm no good at stealing gasoline
But I've got a rubber hose, gonna suck until it flows
Head to Sapelo and every place between
Sapelo and every place between...
DL |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/26/2012 : 19:19:40
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| ~*~ |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 07/31/2012 : 21:07:45
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| Sweet summer-stalled afternoons. Blue Shade Inn at the edge of cobbled Eden. Terra cotta and adobe in slow July. Room at the end of an alcove lit with contagious candles. Veil of bougainvillea trailing over the balcony rail. Ocean across the Boulevard with its litany of tides. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 07/31/2012 : 21:10:05
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| "Mine now," he said. Sun flaring the windows. Gold in the room. Her dark eyes behind black glasses. His bright and dark brilliance. His fiercely-kept peace. His words with their long reach disturbing her sleep. |
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The Nightly Vigil