When I nearly turned into a hippie
|October 26th, 2017 at 6:09:37 PM permalink|
Member since: Oct 28, 2012
Listening to the song "Peace Train" back in the day.
Actually, I have always been a bit of a Hawk when it comes to our country's wars
Which is not to say I prefer war to peace, only lunatics do not prefer peace, come on. But still, sometimes I have been on the side that said we have to fight. On the other hand, Cat Steven's song has always had an affect on me, and again tonight I keep hearing it over and over in my head.
There is the rhythm and the syncopation, just sticks with me; and the use of the Af/Am choir is on the money, used with a punctuation effect [absent though the 'soaring voices' effect, the best use of this 'instrument']
But mostly it is the imagery of the lyrics - see, darkness is overtaking all, but
------------------- "... out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train"
----------------- "Now come and join the living, it's not so far from you
--------------------And it's getting nearer, soon it will all be true"
As far as the muslim conversion, I don't know, can't dig that but I let it go.
As I look at this post, I get the feeling I am not communicating this too good. Oh well.
Mustard:You like Kipling, Miss Scarlet? Sure, I'll eat anything [from movie]
|October 27th, 2017 at 2:43:38 AM permalink|
Member since: Oct 27, 2012
Many of those hippies grew rich.
I don't care if Cat Stevens converted to Islam but I object to his unique views on Freedom of Speech being restricted to speech that does not annoy Muslims.
Back in the days there was this small upscale bar on the upper west side that was a hangout for rich girls from the Seven Sisters and men who played high stakes backgammon nonstop. One Saturday some drunken jerk played Cat Stevens "I'm Being Followed By A Moon Shadow" over and over again. After that I don't think I liked Cat Stevens all that much.
I recently twittered one hippie chic that I met at a commune north of Seattle, she went on to become a hospice nurse and a dula after the communards had been run off their 300 acres by a local campaign that made it impossible for them to pay their mortgage.
I occasionally have thought about a hippie chic that offered me vegetarian chef (and other) services as long as I dropped her off in Santa Cruz, CA within six months. Though the beach under the San Onofre nuclear reactor was actually one of the best places for men with RVs and converted step vans to obtain amiable female traveling companions in short order.
Now many hippies work in the Emerald Triangle using nail clippers on pot plants and then just live the rest of the year on the several thousand dollars they can make doing that.