Writers have their hearts ripped out

Since I finally figured out how to use the video camera, mainly to photograph all the wildlife in the back yard, I'm experimenting with other stuff, mainly ads for my doomed novel, The Glass Character. Maybe I'll have fun with it; maybe I won't. I like the idea of the screen beside me, and the fact these are silents means I can blather on as much as I want. I know what it is to be rejected (stomped into the ground a few hundred times?), so this scene spoke to me in particular.

Good kitty!

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

Diamonds and Rust: a love that lasts a lifetime

The Nobel Prize for Literature is yet another step towards immortality for Bob Dylan. The rebellious, reclusive, unpredictable artist/composer is exactly where the Nobel Prize for Literature needs to be.
His gift with words is unsurpassable. Out of my repertoire spanning 60 years, no songs have been more moving and worthy in their depth, darkness, fury, mystery, beauty, and humor than Bob’s. None has been more of a pleasure to sing. None will come again.

- Joan Baez


Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Joan Baez. She was the queen of folk music then and now. She took a liking to my songs and brought me with her to play concerts, where she had crowds of thousands of people enthralled with her beauty and voice. People would say, "What are you doing with that ragtag scrubby-looking waif?" And she'd tell everybody in no uncertain terms, "Now you better be quiet and listen to the songs." We even played a few of them together. Joan Baez is as tough-minded as they come. Loyal, free minded and fiercely independent. Nobody can tell her what to do if she doesn't want to do it. I learned a lot of things from her. A woman of devastating honesty. And for her kind of love and devotion, I could never pay that back.

- Bob Dylan

Halle-freakin'-lujah: this one's for you, Bob

For Bob Dylan: on winning the Nobel Prize for Literature

I hear you won the Nobel Prize

The trophy goes with your blue eyes

But you don’t care too much for trophies, do ya?

I heard your thunder at my door

You shook the beams and cracked the floor

And woke me with a howling Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

You wrote some songs, you wrote them well

You cored my soul and gave me hell

It made me quiver when I listened to ya.

We sang your songs down by the lake

The loons all cried like William Blake

And flamed the sky in shining hallelujah.

Hallelujah.

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

I can’t say why I feel this way

You’ve been my brother all the way

It hurts when this much truth is blowin’ through ya.

You said the things I could not say

The pain will never go away

A blazing sad refrain of Hallelujah 

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Blowhard: why Trump looks exactly like Willie the Whale