DEPRESSION ~ Starts 2018

 YELLOW COAT A roady song.  I'm a roady and I am writing another song. I think Joan Baez was the wall flower's Bob Dylan.  No offense to Joan Baez. A Wall flower could sing along. Her diction was better. Elocution was a value.  I flowered on walls. No one talks about wall flowers these days unless they mean flowers growing on the wall in a basket or a climber.  A barrage of more offensive terms have become familiar. Geek used to be a bad thing, now it's a good thing. No judgment either way, but society morphs. Different values for old connotations emerge all the time.  It all starts in the school yard.   School is a form of torture.  The classroom is where humiliation, sleep deprivation, lights in your eyes, orders from the bad cop are screamed at you and then you pee your pants. If you react badly to this form of torture they send you to the head who beats you with a stick.  OK. Back in the day.  The playground is like the prison yard. Alliances

BORN TO BE BLUE is playing on the DVD machine.  Fast forward.  There's too much pain to watch it slowly.  One of my actors - not one I'm in love with - not like John Dunbar - Kevin Costner. Ethan Hawk of Dead Poet's Society is playing, it seems, a famous trumpeter with a drug habit. I only fell for him because when he was young he resembled Bernard when he was young and I was in awe of him.  I call him the Tin Man because of another song - The Tin Man by America.   "Some times late when things are real and people share the gift of gab between themselves ..... But Oz never did give nothin' to the Tin man what the Tin man didn't  already have ..... soap suds green like bubbles ...   and cause never was the reason for the evening .... so please believe in me .... "   Bernard calls me Darth Vadar since the twin towers fell down.  He says I can't ever come back.   He got stuck in Ayn Rand and I moved on to a greater Cause and Effect which is supernal