Simon Joyner - Songs For The New Year (1996) [Shrimper, SHR92, CD]
Tracklist:
1. The Cowardly Traveller Pays His Toll
2. Oxygen
3. Parachute
4. New Year's Song
5. Two Friends Take A Bow For The Record
6. When Will The Sun Rise Again
7. Born Of Longing
8. I Wrote A Song About The Ocean
9. Disappear From Here
From the liner notes:
Mastered by John Golden. Photographs by Jase Maddox. Thanks to all the musicians who played on this record, Dennis Callaci, my family, Brad Smith, Frank van den Elzen, Hans van den Berg, Fred Maessen, the Deden family, David Sink, and Robert Thornton. Special thanks to Josephine.
For Owen Montgomery James Joyner, born of longing.
Cleopatra sent for three baskets, two empty and one restless. Not knowing
which was loaded she spun the wheel and lowered her arm in to the darkness of
the pregnant one. "Goodbye, desert. Fare Thee well, Roman headhunters.
Goodbye, so long." My grandmother used to say that there are two kinds of
people in this world, those who think that nothing happens for a reason and
those who know that everything does. All I'm sure of is that Time won't stand
still for anything, or Nothing for that matter. So let narrow hands gather Par-
adise where they find it. You can drink your wormwood, Luke, and call it wine.
That's just fine with me. Some will idle away while their acid tongues reduce
the world to a hopeless, empty, purposeless thing. Some will gather in that
rocking chair of loneliness. Others are meant for burning, brightly and shortly.
But if Eternity begins in vapor and ends in smoke, as I suspect, then all that
business about forbidden fruit is rotten. Some laws are so unnatural they just
have to be broken. That being said, strike me dead! You don't have to be
Satchel Paige to figure out the world is round and hard and worth throwing.
It's either too late at night or too early in the morning, the end of October.
The cold winds from the north are raking the trees of their color. I hear whistles
and then the silence of swooping or falling birds. My wooden fingers mangle all
of my thoughts. I've forgotten what I meant to write. Aint that a shame? What
was it someone said about the dignity of the movement of an iceberg? It's what
you can't see that matters, or something, but anyway, nothing comes easy. A
moment of grace is not stumbled upon or waited for or donated or found. The
man at the door said "this gate was made only for you...." (Now look what
you've done. You've gone and turned yourself into a skeleton!) Then he said
"Now I'm going to shut it. Too bad.
My grandmother used to say "There are two kinds of people in this world,
Simon, those who are alive and those who are not." See how she still lives? If
you put your ear to the ground you'll hear it's teeming with such sounds. I curse
the days I've spent staring into the clouds above, waiting for them to blow into
tangibles.
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