What a great interview. Thanks so much. It would appear that scientology has long since left his life to, just picking up on his demeanor. I’m glad he’s doing okay. He was always nice to me, and I remember that his wife was absolutely gorgeous. I spent more time with Trevor (the bass player, also from Hull, and a friend of Woody) and he was very kind to me. His wife used to make sure that I’d eaten. So sweet. You know what saddens me? I was into my own thing at the time, and Bowie was not really on my radar. I never once asked either him or Woody about Bowie! That could have been a reason they took to me, because I wasn’t up their ass about him, especially as Bowie had only recently split up the band and he was their cash cow. But in retrospect it was a missed opportunity. Trevor died recently too. Not that long after David. Or was it the other way round? I think it was, because I read that David called him in hospital. Whatever. I’m rambling.
Yeah, my comment was outside of your context. My mind works a little left of center sometimes, so when I saw the word Zeppelin I shifted to totally unsolicited opinions of Page and Hendrix.
I do apologize.
Yet, in each and every “knowledge claim” made, we implicitly operate from such a tenuous principle(s).
I look at (absolute) objectivity (as well as subjectivity) as being unrealizable conceptual polar extremes.
Have recorded personal witness to Nature’s beauty (of many sorts) in my image gallery found here.
Interestingly (in my own thinking), “jealousy” is to desire to have what others (also) have - whereas “envy” is to desire to have what others have while simultaneously depriving others of the very same.
I got the words mixed up then. I meant jealous. Nice pics too. Thanks
Well, that (“jealously”/“envy” thing) is just “one person’s take” that seemed interesting, instructive to me. I don’t mean to “split hairs”. I understood your good intentions from the start. The unusual “sliver” of land (the nearby creek and surrounding ravine in the public park, where most all but the “domestic” flower shots were taken) is a rare case (as it goes) of a (small) area not highly unlike the way that the land was here in Seattle before the “manifested destinies” of the white conquerors in the mid-1800s plundered the timber, graded, and profited from selling-off the lands. That humble little creek once nurtured what were some of the world’s tallest trees (~400 Foot Cedars). I have spent many good hours there over the years, traveling back (in my mind) in time as well as in place - where those who came before us walked, camped, hunted, and gathered for some several thousand years. Only a blink in the eye of time ago.
On a “musical” note, here they did not play “stretched-skin” drums - they drummed using wooden poles.
Love the Floyd Rose comment. Apparently it used to get on Hendrix’s nerves too. Not surprised. His studio work though, for me shows what can be done with a simple 5 note scale, in the hands of someone of real talent. There’s a lesson there. It’s not how many scales one knows, but what one does with the ones they have.
I’m very close to the Regents Park in London. It’s a beautiful “city” park, which was once the Prince regents garden. Hasn’t got a ravine though. As for nit picking about words? I’m fine with that. Helps me learn. I will be checking the dictionary after my next coffee, or three.
Single flavor testing and music theory are analogous.
Doing the chore thing to improve the enjoyment thing.
No need to apologise. I think we all do that sometimes. I do.
This looks rather nice (Regent’s Park, London):
Source: https://www.wheretraveler.com/sites/default/files/regents_park_c_anatoleya_-_istock.jpg
Source: https://www.danubiushotels.com/en/london-blog/running-in-regents-park
Source: https://ttnotes.com/images/regents-park-london-7.gif
Yeah, it’s a beautiful park. I think it’s the best park in London to be honest. It’s not wild and free though, and gets very overcrowded when the sun comes out. What time is it where you are, by the way? As for envy and jealousy? Neither of them are really what I meant. You’re right about envy, but jealousy means much the same. So neither are applicable.
It is presently 12:00 AM on May 16 in Seattle (PDT). Looks like you are 8 hours ahead (on BST) ?
The English language if full of seemingly “quirky” and often seemingly inexplicable metaphors (as well as endless weird spelling anomalies). For instance, how does “kick the bucket” relate to death ? I have always wished that I had/will compile such weird metaphors (of which most all do “know” the intended meanings of). There must be tens to hundreds of such “sayings” ? “Etymology” can be very interesting.
Don’t worry about the “precisions of language”. You could join me by the lady of the creek sometime. 
The solitude (particularly on weekday afternoons), and grottos in which to plant oneself near the creek has been a major attraction. Most of those fine places are no more these days (due to various causes). The symphonies of the various birds in the tall trees, and cool breezes on sunny days are quite lovely.
No, it’s 08.22 on the 16th,so you’re 4 hours ahead. As for quirky phrases. I discovered where the phrase “legging it" came from only last week. When travelling on a barge on the canal in olden times, one would have to lie on one’s back and use your legs to “walk” the barge through a tunnel. This was called “legging it.” I’m leaving now as my phone is really playing up this morning. “I could join you by the lady of the creek.” I can think of much worse things to do. Works for me.
I am fairly sure that you are at +8 hours, my friend. Look at the dates and times, and think that through.
My prose is rare, nevertheless heartfelt and meaningful (when I have been able to muster and polish it):
In secret places of sanctity, through time and tides,
aeons pass within moments, like droplets of sweet rain
slowly nurturing perennial swaths of emerald green mosses
gently wrapping around Nature’s primeval, delicate frame,
eventually finding their way back to the ancient Salish Sea.
While thoughtfully perched upon primeval, stoic stones
embraced and softly caressed by the lady of the creek,
dark nights of the soul immersed within tempestuous seas
wane with dawn’s graceful glow; remembrances of eternity
amidst moments timeless, within sanctuaries sublime.
Through such places of quiet sanctity I often wander
amidst a sliver of ancient evergreen forest abounding
with lush mosses, ferns, plethoric and ubiquitous flora
gently embracing perennial springs and sacred streams
slowly finding their way to ponds, lakes, and the Sea.
Those who came before us here for some 12,000 years
held similar metaphors for river, mouth, and language.
Stoic stones amidst the creeks still make water speak
of aeons before, of Nature’s gravity unheard amidst
today’s concrete jungle; beyond ontological vanity.
Oft while lightly perched upon mossy, stoic stones
amidst the natural wonder of yet unspoiled streams
a little bird protean wistfully daydreams of visiting
secret lush and green places of timeless sanctity,
glimpses of Nature’s primeval and delicate frame,
timeless beauty, perennial swaths of emerald moss,
ancient flora flourishing amidst lush and muddy bogs,
rocks gently caressed by the dear lady of the creek
having, merely a few blinks before in the eye of time,
nurtured what may have been the earth’s tallest trees.
The cool, damp soil abounds with reverberations of time,
signs of those who came before for some 12,000 years;
human hearts, hopes, struggles, standings, and fears,
trails smoothed by many feet, many unrecognized tears
fallen into eternal springs joining the lady of the creek.
Following this conscious stream as she winds, by gravity,
one part above the ground, with three parts as well below,
she finds her riverine essence, gathering her timeless stones
of ancient origin so long ago in the taciturn folds of eternity,
where only the stillness confides that which was once to be.
She gently sings to them, eventually softening even the edges
of the most stoic and ragged of rocks with her hydroxyl touch,
nurturing mysterious and seemingly unlikely alliances sublime,
incarnations of sentient intention from which an order derives
for a time, corporeal emergences of flora and fauna sublime.
Gathering strength from her respite, and gently called by gravity,
meandering slowly yet gracefully while making her way to the sea,
bounding forth in her journey allied with newly found fresh springs,
the lady of the creek unseen to all but most delicate eyes dreams,
“Will you be young with me? The dust is nothing. The soul is all.”
Mystery constitutes the processional inverse
of all conceptualization and explanation;
limitless horizon beyond measure;
treasures beyond possession;
awareness without certainty;
remembrances of eternity.
Yeah, you’re right about the time. I was getting my am and pm mixed up. It was before my second cup of coffee, so I forgive myself that one. Some of your prose is very beautiful. I shall read it again when I can do so without interruption. Lovely picture too. Have a good day my friend. Peace and tranquility be upon you.
Don’t know if you’re familiar with the excellent array of these spoofs. “Ziggy Tickets” is (IMO) superb.
No, I wasn’t aware of these. Highly amusing. Interestingly, that is one of my favourite films, and, imo, one of the greatest performances (Bruno Ganz) ever. Don’t know if you’ve seen it, but it’s called Downfall. It’s subtitled, as you can probably guess, but I wouldn’t expect that to be a problem for you. If it were an American film it would have swept the board at the Oscars. Magnificent.
Interesting. Looks like Ganz had mixed feelings about the spoofs. They’re still going strong, it seems.
Might get you to poem my resin artwork, but I don’t think that will make it sell any faster. Love the resin Artwork, but fell asleep on the poem. But the poem is a hell of lot better than I could have done. 
