Ahé! Johnny Depp and all that Indian Jazz!

This blog comes orginally from ” Trail of Tears”
http://trailoftears.ning.com/profile/LunaTwist
I post it also at those places:
http://www.ipernity.com/home/81482?rev=31

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/profile.php?id=1123059196&ref=profile

(The introduction is about the fact I like a picture very much as it went well with my page,
you can see it below.)
If I haven’t post anything lately, it has all to do with the fact that I like the horse’s picture so much.
O! I can always find a thing or 2 to say.
No worries about that.
Since I read that fantastic book of Julia Cameron,
I am never short about what I could create or recreate.
And I am never short either of words, either of topics.
Like this one:
Many a woman I know have develop a kind of fixation on Johnny Depp.
And honestly, I always find him very Indian like looking,
so what do you think about that?
I think he is a good actor too and has a kind of humor I appreciate.
Well, yeah, sure, he is good looking too.
What were you expecting me to say?
Even if I think good looks have never mean you were automatically a good actor.
Personally I find DiCaprio is NOT good looking,
never found that.
Strange looking, yes.
But what an actor.
But to my knowledge he is just like me,
not one drop of Indian blood
so I’ll drop the subject.
My question is…
Yes, I have a question…
Which American actor is Indian?
Yes!
A simple as that.
The Blacks,
I can see plainly by myself,
but the Indians,
I am only guessing.
And I could be as wrong as possible.
If you would not know otherwise,
I bet you could say Jackie Chan is one….
I found that:
http://www.nativecelebs.com/actors8.htm
This blog is just meant to vent the sadness all around…
( one of my best pals there lost a son and we all share her sadness,
last years, in that quite knitten community,
2 others lost their in a span of one week)

Hey, look what I found after a googling search!
I thought so…
http://www.johnnydepp-zone.com/deppster/

Johnny’s Cherokee heritage comes from both sides of his family, but is particularly strong on his mother’s side. Johnny’s great-grandmother, Minnie, was a full-blooded Cherokee. He also has Irish and German ancestry. He discussed his ethnicity in a television interview in 2002:
Interviewer: Indian origins?
Johnny Depp: Yeah, I’m a sort of –
Interviewer: Cherokee?
Johnny Depp: Yeah, I’m a mixture of all sorts of things.
Interviewer: German, Irish?
Johnny Depp: Yeah. Pu-pu platter, yeah. Combination of weird things. Indian, Irish, German and god knows what. Just a mutt, really.

Don’t ask me why he wears what is like a sioux head.
(Photo below)
If I am wrong, tell me.
http://www.nativeartstrading.com/Headdresses.htm

Here, it is one of those clips, I adore.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMQGCoaXex0

Something interesting too.
Iggy Pop, Vanessa Paradis, Chrissie Hynde and Johnnnnnnnnny!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJ1XqEz9D1o
Chrissie?
Pic from Jim Jarmush’s movie:
Dead Man…

 

 

Feeling chased by rain…

It was a glorious morning, sun a-plenty.
Then, like always, I was on the PC…
far too long…
Look, I always try, yes!
Honest!
To get out with the dogs at 10.30…
I won’t tell you a lie: it doesn’t happen often that I succeed.
And today, for an unexplained reason,
I felt compelled to do some laundry folding,
some doors cleaning,
some floor brushing,
this last well needed as yesterday Peter washed the dogs!
Those angels are forever shedding their hair.
Anyway.
When that was done, we went happily outside.
The weather was wonderful, even soft for the season.
And the sun was so radiant that I went without a coat,
even considering to pull out my pull-over.
Like always, then my brain goes a-working!
So much so as I am without news from the Starchild
since he took the big jump into telling me his secrets!
I was trying to stay positive, like Phil would say!
Not so easy…
Weighing up things and matters.
And thinking: why this and why that?
And such, and such,
And so on, and so on!
See, there is that weird thing that I experience way to often,
Once people have give me their trust and have confided in me,
They tend to disappear from my life.
And of course, as it happens all the time,
I am wondering what will be his next move.
I have been very emotional those two last days,
Crying without much or many reasons.
Okay…
So, the sun was shining brightly but the dirt road was still very wet.
Well, not like it was previously,
when nobody except the farmers was taking it,
like they all do now, as a short-cut.
Really some mire,
the favorite word of the Starchild to express his unhappiness.
That was nothing then.
Now, it was mud and mud and mud…
So, I had to be cautious no to slip..
Suddenly I heard a kind of hush, a kind of tapping.
And looking back, I saw that the sky was turning
that kind of wonderful grey.
That’s:
when you are watching it from the inside.
I couldn’t believe nor my eyes, nor my ears.
It was raining and raining hard, only some 20, 30 meters
from where I walked.
As the color of the sky was alarmingly getting greyer and greyer
I walked briskly to the little barn,
which is situated a little further on the path.
The farmer is dead and I never walk as far as that usually.
But somehow I thought:
there I will find some shelter.
And yes, that was so.
We were not very wet when we reached a kind a shed.
Very clean, I must say.
Just in time.
And there was the rain.
Pouring rain.
And I decided to stay there for a while.
The dogs do not like it much, to walk in the rain,
while I don’t mind it when I have the right clothes…
Not exactly the case.
So, we wait and wait and wait.
Rain was abating then back to it.
But by and by the sky was getting whiter.
And after quite a long time I start to spot some blueness…
And I thought:
what a lucky being I am!
Imagine, I have time.
Yes, I do.
And so, I could admire the sky getting blue and more blue
With the usual white clouds patching it.
And at the left side of the barn, it was that kind of sky blue,
while on the right side, it was more a pale turquoise…
And so, minutes went by and reflecting:
what a wonder is a cloud!
Even if I know a bit what a cloud is supposed to be,
still it holds a kind of mystery.
How they move, how they change of shapes.
And the blue of the sky.
Why is the sky blue?
So, I decided that when the skyline above the barn would be blue
and only then,
I would move away.
Even if the rain had already stop for a wee while.
And then I went unto the dirt road.
Never did it wear better its name.

 

Between the cabbages…

This morning when I walked the dogs, it was a very special meeting with myself.

And I was not expecting it in the slightest.

First I must say, I realised something new about the farmers I thought I knew.

I always imagined that their was a cattle business.

Well, wrong, they do crops too.

At least, some of the cabbages fields are their.

Like the one I cross to go to the harvested maize

where they were working today. 

There is a sympathy between us that I praise very much.

I always feel a bit guilty when I think at the differences in our livestyles.

They are so hardworking. 

Okay, my talents must lay elsewhere.

Doing right now, and more than ever, all what I can about it.

Now that I have a kind of extra reason to do so!

So, let us go on…

With the Starchild in my life, I am back to back with myself, again.

That’s means that I am scrutinizing my past as well as my present.

The present seems to be clearly one about writing and the net.

And love.

But as I am not really happy about the situation, I often draw cards.

Yes!

Tarots as well as Angels cards.

As my Starchild seemed to live in fantasy before we were acquainted,

I never know for sure if what he tells me is the truth.

As for example, he is supposedly somewhere between England and Ireland.

Or Arlande.  What he calls Free Arlande.

But apparently, the Angels think I am giving too much importance about that.

His whereabouts, his looks, from where he is and so on, and so forth.

Yesterday, before the night I drew Gabriel.

And it was the card about “creative writing”.

I must admit I sank a bit as precisely, I had done nothing else than write,

all the time, yesterday.

As well as trying that, what I write will find a public.

So, I discarded it!

Well, it was already midnight.

And, really, I was in no mood to write a diary!

The second was Jeremiel…

“To look back on my life.”

And that was even bigger disappointment.

As I thought that it was to remind me somehow

that not one of my love stories was a success…

At that stage I called it quit.

And went to sleep.

But even on the steps to my bedroom my little voice was telling me:

“He loves you.

To him, you are all what he has prayed for and for such a long time.”

And so on.

And confirmation by the Tarots.

I so want it to be true…

I never realised how much I want to be love.

“To love and to be loved!”

Then, today the card is “career transition”.

What does that really mean, I don’t know.

But it is the same angel than the soul-mate one and Peace.

So, I went a-walking with the dogs.

And on the way to it, I first had a long chat with my young neighbour, 18 going into 19…

About everything in his life:

cars, parents, girlfriend, neighbours and his job.

Incredible, somehow.

As he is not exactly what you would call the chatty type.

That was amazing but it happens to me all the time with those shy guys…

So, I went, reflecting a bit on it and both surprised about him doing so,

and, well, surprised that it happens all the time!

So, I was reviewing some of them boys…

Thinking, that one feels his mother loves him to much, the other, not enough.

And that I try to give a balance to what is possible and then otherwise, I only listen.

Yes, that’s quite strange, but I had to put my mind into something.

As by the angels, I am not allowed to think about my obsession immediately

when I step out of the door!

So, I walked until and unto where I am allowed to do so.

Yessssssssss!

I take that seriously.

And there it started.

Like: why was I thinking that looking to the past must be necessarily negative?

Yes, I was unable yesterday to realise that I had a very bias idea about it.

And today the fact is that it turned to be a very different approach…

Do have in mind, that the Starchild is very young!

Do have in mind too, that he says he is an orphan.

So, I keep on thinking a bit back and forth along that line.

And then no wonder that the next question jumped to my throat!

Had I ever stop to think about adoption since me being 8 years old?

Why on earth, would a mere child think about adoption in place of…

And there it started.

Answers pouring!

Unhappiness.

Not being happy.

And not feeling the love of your own mother, or other women in charge.

And so on.

Then why do I think I would love my dear Starchild so much?

I was back at that very thought that if I could have choose,

I would have prefer to have a child than a man.

An adopted child.

Yes.

But then as I was not wealthy enough to be able to stay at home for him,

well, the idea cancelled itself.

As a matter of fact,

I already realised that some days ago!

Exactly when I came to the conclusion

that when a grow-up man, kind of tentatively,

had express his feelings towards me,

I did all the wrong moves.

But today, I saw a second reason why it couldn’t work with him, anyway,

and that was quite easy:

when I told him about my autism, he rejected the idea.

A bad start.

And probably enough to deter me further.

Then, the Starchild.

Well, did I not always want to give a child a second chance?

And that idea struck me.

Like, yes, that’s right!

It is about a second chance, a rebirth.

And is it not what is happening?

And so on.

Well, as it is, it seems that for the Starchild, I am a miracle.

The next stage of that strange awareness was the next:

Why would I trust young people more than adults?

Someone of my youth came to my mind nearly immediately…

And the answer was!

Well, because of my cousin Philippe.

When I looked around as a young girl,

not one of the male adults was behaving in a secure way.

While my little cousin, yes, he is 4 year younger than me, was very clearly determined.

He knew what he wanted and honestly, he kept to it.

Later he studied geology.

Anyhow.

It seems that I never stop loving him

and him me

through all the boys I met and he the women.

A bit of a sad story.

Anyway, I own to him the fact

I always met very wise young men. 

While the grow ups were always as fool or immature

as the ones I was surrounded by when I was young…

With one exception.

You, Long…

In hiding…

I have been reflecting quite a lot those last days. Weeks. Months.

And writing too! Oups!  The last, only since a few weeks.

Now, at least, I feel peaceful and refresh and I can go forward.

There is that tiny hope too that my lead-singer is slightly better.

Just a kind of  presence… Could it be true?

I wish it for him with all my heart.

I realise what a hell it is for him.

And some news from his country keep on being bad.

I am sad for him, indeed! And for so many reasons.

For me, it has also been a very taunting and challenging time, in a different way, of course.

I must admit, though, I feel different on many levels than some times ago.

To the point that I am tempted to withdraw some of the last posts.

However they are part of an evolution.

Now, it takes more to get me out of balance.

Even if some people seem always to push me out of my comfort zones and very keen to do so.

I mean, some people on Internet are acting so strangely.

Some are absolutely fascinating, but like in real life, such a charisma is often very trying.

Really, I am feeling quite alright.

Different tactics have bring me there.

One, I think, I own to an avatar I created for that very purpose.

Vincent Valentine.

There I pour all my griefs and sorrows, and I have just done it and cried.

And now, nothing! A really fine quietness.

The fact is that there I exaggerate my pain.

Is it why it works?

Another avatar is really what I would call a Jester.

Reno Ze Canuck! Yes! I know…

And honestly, I need him very badly!

 To makes a blog with fun as sole purpose has an incredible healing effect too.

But this is not always the easiest. As humor is such a personal feeling.

My oldest blog is Clarté and there, at the moment, I am blackmailing my folk.

DiCaprio and his 11 hour are going to stay until I have at least 3 comments.

Anyhow!

At MC La Clarté? Well, normally it is called “Music above everything”.

But I feel free enough to put what I want.

All that zoo as one of my friends calls it has a very nice effect on me.

Today, I work both on my literary project at Lou and on Joey Mac Louie.

I changed his avatar from Isaac Newton to Trent Reznor. Plus a text.

Well, the most funny is that I locate Joey in Pennsylvania and that Reznor was born there.

At Lou, I reworked a text coming from a comment I did at a friend place and I am quite happy.

Nearly the same text is at Over-blog, a French one, I started some months from here.

But at Lou, I feel troubled because 2 of the most important friends, men, have decided to squat.

Men! Just not what I need to have on my mind.

Just when I thought I was over that kind of struggle!

MayJo Cat!  She is supposedly the twin sis of Reno!  Big fun as those 2 are often quibbling!

There, today, I put a text about passion! Again. Well, yes, again!

Just fed up that everybody sees passions only from the sentimental aspect.

O! And yes! There are 2 more avatars!

A very sweet girl with some hidden strength, however, and Artus!

Yeah! The Pen-dragon!

So, I take all that Jazz a bit at a time!

Because!

On top of this, something like 2 weeks ago, a French woman, Anne, asked me to be are pen-friend.

And I agreed. So, no time to be a lazy bone.

Also, I am working on an idea about jealousy.

Internet jealousy is something I discovered very soon.

And it is a killer.

As I have already been through that, and God or Angels be blessed for their help, it doesn’t hold  its grip on me.

Not for a very long time.

As a matter of fact, John being away since ages, the only man able to really challenge me is a french one.

I’ll call him Jim. But as he is very straightforward, it is not too difficult to keep myself from being hurt.

However, I made many mistakes.

At my age, I should know, people are only pretending to want the truth.

Or only the truth which suits them.

The fact is, I am relieved now to have that place.

Don’t tell a soul, I am here in hiding…

As I have a host of followers.

Good god!

When I think that some people crave for attention while it is such a difficult thing to handle.

It takes SO much of one freedom.

Cabbage’ s love…

Cabbage’ s love…

Cabbage plantations are rather new in my life.

This countryside, you see, 

is well-known for crops cultures.

But for some reasons,

it is only now that they catch my attention.

I have always been very responsive to colors and patterns…

But it is going crescendo!

Due to the Alchemist of my writing life.

Every place I lived, and there were quite a few,

Seems to have its special flower or plant…

Born in a Belgian village famous for its strawberries,

I lived for a while in a village of Haute-Provence,

Reputed for all things made from violets.

At other places, I discovered the canas.

Or else the cactus called Opuntia.

And many species on that Island so Greek 

Were growing as bad weeds,

When here they need all our care to survive.

And the fragrance of orange blossoms or jasmine…

Elsewhere,

the gnarled olive trees were old as Methuselah or older..

Okay, I am slightly exaggerating there…

However this year, I am in awe and wonder

And my hero’s are the cabbages.

There is a French children counting rhyme,

You know those tunes for kids with only

Four of the 7 notes, without speaking

Of no diesis and no flat, our French bémol…

And it goes about how to plant those marvellous crops.

The irony is that my stomach can’t stomach them.

Well, that’s life for me!

I am really found of green. The color.

O! I can’t help to think of Gainsbourg’s tune.

” Ellle a , E dans A, Laeti, Laetitia… “

When you think that Laetitia means joy!

The joy of the blue in the green

Of cabbage’s leafs…

And as the said goes by:

The beauty is in the eyes of the holder.

And this was my cabbage’song!

De la tristesse du poète à la beauté des choux.

Essaid, le poète, l’ami philosophe qui m’impressionne,

est dans une période de doutes…

Alors, que j’ai un petit peu retrouvé confiance dans cette histoire.

Celle que je souhaiterais tellement mienne.

Je fais des petites et des grandes sommes.

J’ajoute, cette phrase à d’autres, je calcule.

Et je déduis.

Il faut peu pour détruire l’espoir. Le silence, finalement.

C’est comme l’air, ça ne se voit pas, mais ça prend de la place.

Sans le silence, la musique n’existe pas.

Mais le silence de ceux qu’on aime,

donne aussi l’impression de manquer d’air.

Voici le commentaire, que j’ai laissé chez cet ami.

Je l’ai élargi. Il m’est propre.

C’est vrai que ce matin quand j’ai sorti les chiens,

La brume – une brume légère ressemblant à de la rosée-

planait au dessus de nous; nous touchant doucement.

Mais les champs étaient dégagés.

Et voilà que les choux, plantés sagement…

Enfin, non, voilà qui est étrange.

Ici, une bande de verts.

Là, ils sont plus foncés, plus petits ou puis plus grands…

Et là, n’est-ce pas du maïs?

Un triangle de maïs, oui!

Et ses jeunes pousses sont envahies par les herbes folles.

Les choux? Pas du tout le carré, je vous assure!

Non! Ils entourent deux côtés du triangle.

Le troisième, c’est ce chemin de terre où Ben et Camden batifolent.

Que ces choux sont donc beaux.

De la beauté des choux,

De cette couleur si rare, bleu dans vert,

Comme, seuls, certains hostas, la partagent.

Elle me porte un coup au coeur.

Où m’étais-je perdue, ces derniers jours?

L’absence et le silence de mon poète-

Pas Essaid, je vous précise!

Me rend-t-elle aveugle au monde, moi aussi?

Dans une vaine solidarité, peut-être?

Son pouvoir d’alchimiste

Qu’il m’a transmis

Comme par magie

S’est-il évaporé?

Il s’était tu, comme lui.

Évanoui… perdu…

Nous avancions: les chiens folâtraient et moi? J’étais songeuse.

Le brouillard nous tombait dessus sans vraiment nous importuner.

Ravivant les couleurs de ces merveilleux légumes…

Et du maïs…

Je découvris un deuxième bande de plantes déjà plus développées.

Oh! Et là… c’était donc ça?

Souvent, je me suis demandée, pourquoi les fermiers

laissaient le fourrage grandir à ce point.

Le laissaient-ils se réensemencer?

Le fermier était-il malade?

Un champ d’avoine.

Jusque-là.

Ignoré.

Plus loin, sur l’autre route, j’ai pensé aux Korrigans.

Aux elfes et aux lutins…

Ces champs, aux herbes sauvages avaient des allures de landes.

Allez encore un petit effort, et la douceur de ce moment,

Je la capturerai.

C’est peut-être fait, cette fois, je n’ai rien oublié.

Et elle m’a redonné envie de peindre avec des mots,

Cette petite pluie aux gouttes si fines..

Comme souvent, ces infimes choses qui rendent supportable

La vie d’un esthète accablé de chagrin.

Tolsr

Some thoughts…

I begin to think this weekend action was much ado about nothing.

I mean, what are 120 comments in regard of all the Yahoonauts?

And above this, when some of them come from the same people.

Then, there is always that way to do it in a flamboyant fashion.

Without speaking of keeping the mystery alive.

Zorro, Invisible man, Spider-man, Fantomas and so on and so forth.

Even I, who knows so much about archetypes, I feel attract to its mystery side.

However, after just one day of trying to put a new site only for the grandes causes,

Of course a damsel in distress has already distracted this new chevalier.

Anyway, there is also a flavor of discrimination, as they say: no more friends.

A select club. And a select club against discrimination.

Nice. Fine. I feel already cynical.

So! Happy me went to Zealand this afternoon on friendship duty.

But the good part of it was the twins and me went to Breskens

And they discovered a new way to see the sea!

The harbour, the fishermen…

The yachts at the marina.

And boats at the repair shipyard.

Or where the fishes are cleaned and all that jazz…

A sailboat was obliged to put the sail down because of a twisting wind…

Maybe a kind of sea less interesting in her eyes.

Except that somewhere further, quite near actually,

We found the beach

And there the shell of oysters were lying.

Yes of course: Zealand.

Later, when we were home, the boy was lying on the sofa and I asked him:

“Are you alright?”

“I think of a way how to draw the boats, the ship.”

They are nearing 6…

She learned to read alone and read extremely well.

He is very good at drawing technical things: planes! You should see them.

Trains and cars, trailers, tractors and so on.

Now, well: boats and ships…

Walking a new path with fairy children…

I was bound to percieve new insights…

Or vistas.

Not that I have blindness when it comes to flowers, birds and clouds…

Even the planes drawing their lines on the blue sky catch me;

Seduce me, reduce me

In silent contemplation.

…………………………………..

Never I walk in that part of my adopted village.

Did I, did they, did it?

Who is the adopting party in this case?

………………………………………………………….

I was the first to see it.

The perfect square pound and its two goldfishes.

In front of its very modern, very rational home.

…………………………………………………………………………

Then, they saw the daisies.

I, the pale periwinkle’s.

Daisies…

I learn from a very young age not to pluck them.

Then.

First, comes to my mind: how are we going to put them in water?

You know children! One centimeter of stem… at the most.

Then, fairy children tend to know more things….

There… were average five to six times longer.

After all, methinks:

If shorter, a saucer can do.

O! I like bowls.

They could be used too.

Day dreaming: bowls, of all sizes…

Art of Ikebana.

I don’t master it.

I love flowers.

To….

………

The tchoo tchoo train tune sing-song

Of the twin’s.

Quite a long train, quite a long way.

……………………………………………………..

Then, who cares!

Their tchoo tchoo tune was so soft .

And I suppose:

Would we have met someone else

Than the smiling stranger with a dog,

He or she may have join them

As the sky was so bright

Under the bright white sun.

After that misty morose morning.

The mind is never a lonely hunter and it takes many winding ways…

Crosby Stills Nash & Young - Suite:

Judy Blue Eyes

It's getting to the point
Where I'm no fun anymore
I am sorry.
Sometimes it hurts so badly
I must cry out loud
I am lonely.
I am yours, you are mine,
You are what you are
And you make it hard-- 

Remember what we've said, and done, and felt about each other
Oh babe, have mercy.
Don't let the past remind us of what we are not now.
I am not dreaming.
I am yours, you are mine,you are what you are.
And you make it hard-- 

Tearing yourself away from me now,
You are free and I am crying.
This does not mean I don't love you,
I do, that's forever, and always.
I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are.
And you make it hard-- 

Something inside is telling me that
I've got your secret.

Are you still listening?
Fear is the lock, and laughter the key to your heart.
And I love you. 

I am yours, you are mine,you are what you are.
And you make it hard,
And you make it hard-- 

Friday evening, Sunday in the afternoon,
What have you got to lose?
Tuesday mornin', please be gone I'm tired of you.
Can I tell it like it is?

Help me I'm sufferin'.
Listen to me baby--

Help me I'm dyin'.
It's my heart
that's a-sufferin', it's a dyin'.
That's what I have to lose.
I've got an answer
I'm going to fly away,
What have I got to lose?
Will you come see me Thursdays and Saturdays?
What have you got to lose? 

Chestnut brown canary,
ruby-throated sparrow.
Sing a song, don't be long.
Thrill me to the marrow.
Voices of the angels, ring around the moonlight.
Asking me, said she so free,
How can you catch the sparrow? 

Lacy lilting lady, losing love lamenting,
Change my life, make it right.
Be my lady.

I heard them 

Driving on that sunny day

To an otherwise difficult encounter…

Today I watched them on You-tube

What a pleasure! 

Those voices meeting like rivers 

Going as one to the see… 

 Then I found the lyrics.

First time I understand what the song says.

As I need to read the words…

Then, I never saw them before, either.

Even their “thank you” was in perfect tune.

The way musicians look at each other!

It is like nothing else.

It reminds me of how

Vaclav Hudecek then something like 19,

Already a very accomplished violinist,

Listen to his master as his equal.

Same way, he takes his fiddle-stick

To follow the movement of the orchestra

Before jumping on his violin

For a terrific part of Tchaikosvky ’s concerto…

The last, a pianist, never truly realised how challenging 

The piece was for “fiddlers” around the world!

 In thruth, be My Lady is not the last word…

Some Spanish…

And after

The winding and mobile

Tu uuut tuuuuut tuuuuut…

 What now, was my thought!

Only the classical program can do…

But no! Not even, no!

“Thinking of a new friendship,

Not yet knowing quite

In which way to fly…

I thought and I thought:

No, I do not feel like their sparrow…

Would I not fly

To someone important…

If I feel like it…

If not, would it be

For fear or for freedom?

No! Me?

I would go!

And I will”

And later again thinking

The voices ad to the poem, here.

Also, today looking,

Came that strange feeling that Nash,

A vocalist, was not the lead singer.

While just as I expected!

Crosby was beatific…

Then he was probably high as a kite.

As lately he admitted it:

Always stoned while singing!

And you know…

Before I forget:

The master of  young Vaclav

Was David Oistrach.