Wednesday, 23 February 2011
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The chronicles of Ruin, continued. Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do. Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here. 10 September 2009 22:59
9 comments:
A lock-in here too, some nights, Mr Smith.
Our Bonnie can fairly play.
Well, I like bonnie Raitt but I can never figure out how one as young as Jones can know so much - of country, jazz, blues and rock, be so agedly adroit, virtuoso and yet so youthfully populist; sometimes, it just ain't fair.
I think she could even sing flawless harmony with mr bob dylan, the most wilfully tuneless, meanderingly discordant, unpredictable and miserably selfish vocalist in the history of midget, spokesperson of a generation showbusiness. Mr mongoose, though, I am sure, will have an opinion on this.
Indeed, Mr Smith.
Miss Jones, among others, seems to have it all. The French have one such, Mlle Gardot. The late lamented Lhasa de Sela another.
Each, their talent and beauty a chiaroscuro with Ruin's dark shadows.
Nora is sensational, Mr I, and should stay the fuck away from Bob. No books upon that shelf.
Another new St Joni has turned up BTW.
Hadn't noticed this similarity until your post Mr M.
Mr Smith won't permit such talk here, I'm sure.
Christ, that's fucking awful, no sweet nightingale, she, more like the lovechild of Suzanne Vega and Rufus Wainwright. You shouldn't come around here, mr mongoose, singing up at people like that. If you see her, don't say hello.
She was in the paper the other day, Mr I, so it must be true. That one, BTW, is the best of her I could find. there is much, much worse than that.
I believe that she also yodels.
In fact, try it again. It is raw but there is talent in that wee girl. We're gonna have to get you trained, Mr I.
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