From: les@jmdl.com (onlyJMDL Digest) To: onlyjoni-digest@smoe.org Subject: onlyJMDL Digest V2003 #398 Reply-To: joni@smoe.org Sender: les@jmdl.com Errors-To: les@jmdl.com Precedence: bulk Archives: http://www.smoe.org/lists/onlyjoni Websites: http://www.jmdl.com http://www.jonimitchell.com Unsubscribe: mailto:onlyjoni-digest-request@smoe.org?body=unsubscribe onlyJMDL Digest Tuesday, December 23 2003 Volume 2003 : Number 398 ========== TOPICS and authors in this Digest: -------- Re: Memoir ["Donna Binkley" ] Date for boot ["Kevin Arshad" ] Tattoos? ["ash" ] Spark [LCStanley7@aol.com] Re: Spark ["Norman Pennington" ] Sparks ["ash" ] Today in History: December 23 [ljirvin@jmdl.com] Today's Library Links: December 23 [ljirvin@jmdl.com] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 22 Dec 2003 10:01:30 -0600 From: "Donna Binkley" Subject: Re: Memoir Hi Julius! I'm late responding on this but wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed this story. Keep them coming, I have been collecting writings and musings from our JMDLrs for this year to donate in a book to the Jonifest 2004 auction. It should be very interesting. Take care, love donna >>> 12/19/2003 4:46:40 AM >>> Not Joni's...mine. :-) I've gotten inspirational encouragement from a dear friend on The List, so I'm gonna give it the old college try. I'll structure it as a collection of autobiographical essays and plan to intertwine posts I've made to the list over the years. Here's one, live from the archives. I'd be interested in hearing any thoughts you all might have. Thanks! - ---- I was a freshman and Wendy was a senior, but we hit it off famously and became fast friends at college in Northern California during the early 80s. She was brilliant, funny, well-read and a talented photographer. A renaissance woman if ever I knew one. I revered and adored her and she knew it. Kindly, she was gentle with my love. Going to her room was like visiting a sage in her lair, but with a bohemian twist. She had an exquisite album collection and a plethora of delightful toys and mind candy that she took pleasure in entertaining me with: her Pez dispenser collection, her eclectic little library, smooth wooden boxes of all shapes and sizes (some decorated with tiger's eye, amethyst or mother of pearl), which held caches of rare earthly treasures she'd discovered on charmed adventures. One evening she might show me pathos arousing photographs she'd taken of war torn children in El Salvador, on another she'd read me letters she had written to lovers who had broken her heart. On yet another she would light candles and incense and read to me from Sylvia Plath, Anais Nin or Hermann Hesse. Once when I came knocking she flung the door open suddenly, looked at me with mock seriousness. "One question, mister," she said. "Water colors or finger paints?" I laughed, but I still have the water color canvas we collaborated on.. From time to time she'd delight me by steathfully producing one of her wooden boxes from a cubby hole hidden behind a tie-dyed tapestry. She'd always have a glint in her eye, like something wonderful was about to happen. She'd lift the lid and say "smell this." Depending on her mood and the alignment of the stars, I might be smelling sinsemilla, saffron, myrrh or some rare aromatic potpourri. They were always bouquets my olfactory sense would be experiencing for the very first time. They are fragrances that imprinted themselves on my mind and are ever associated with Wendy and those days of our lives. . One night she said "Close your eyes, open your mouth and stick out your tongue." She gently placed an exotic raspberry tasting candy on my taste buds. A tingle ran from my head, down my spine and twinkled my toes. The only sound I could manage was "Ummm." Wendy just smiled. She had gotten them in France, she told me, then added matter-of-factly "they're magic." Before I could ask her what she meant, she took my hand and said "Come on, it's raining, let's take a walk." We walked arm and arm around campus in the drizzle, she pointed to a grove of eucalyptus trees and said they were breathing, and I'll be damned if they didn't appear to be. We found ourselves at a garden in front of the on-campus museam where there were a number of Rodin sculptures. She told me sad, tragic stories about every Burgher of Calais we encountered as I marveled at their bronzed beauty, ran my hands across their wet smoothness and bit back empathetic tears. By and by we made our way back to the dorm, jumping in puddles along the way and sometimes pausing to watch the ripples in heretofore still watter. Out of nowhere, we started singing "I Love to Walk in the Rain" from a Shirley Temple movie we had both seen independently, and we laughed till our bellies ached at the fact that we both remembered the lyrics so well. Wendy's room was toasty warm upon our return, somehow. Once again she lit candles all around and cones of incense, too. She steeped chamomile tea, which we sipped from oversized, hand-painted porcelin mugs, while we lounged in repose on her futon. She turned to me suddenly, as if she had just had an epiphany, and gazed deep into my eyes for what seemed like a long time. She was smiling mysteriously, in a manner that put me in mind of the Mona Lisa, or Buddha. She seemed to me to be sizing me up, as if to see if I was worthy of what she was contemplating. Finally, she got up and skipped over to the plastic milk crates that housed her album collection, alphabetically. She found what she was looking for with ease, then carefully reached in with her fingertips and slid the record out of its protective sleeve. In the candlelight I could only make out a dark album cover with a blurry figure of a woman's face on the cover. She was handling the disc like some kind of precious heirloom though, cradling it along the edges between her palms. She placed it on the turntable and cleaned it with a velvet swab after putting a few drops of something in a small red plastic bottle on it. Gingerly, she dropped the needle on the vinyl, then hurried back to be by my side. She held my hand within the soft caress of both of hers. Only a few measures into the first song I felt myself becoming rapturous. The beauty of the voice and music that filled the astounded me. I listened intently to the lyrics and was profoundly moved by the portraits of disappointment and pain. Once again I had to suppress my weep reflex, like I had while experiencing the Rodin sculptures. I was absorbed and enthralled, and was hearing music that had a visceral, emotional effect on me like no music ever had before, like I felt when first smelling Wendy's myrrh. I sat rapt for the entire album side, then pleaded to hear the other. Wendy must've seen the amazement and wonder written on my face after the last lingering note of "The Last Time I Saw Richard" and pre-empted my inevitable questions. "Joni Mitchell," she said. "Blue." - -Julius This message has been scanned by the E250. This message has been scanned by the E250. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Dec 2003 12:13:35 -0600 From: "Kevin Arshad" Subject: Date for boot I HAVE RESEARCHED THE BELOW BECAUSE I HAVE IT ON CD AND I'VE FOUND THAT = IT IS EITHER:=20 07-07-69 Southern Illinois University Edwardsville IL USA=20 Joni performs at Mississippi River Festival; broadcast 8-3-69 on = PBS as "The Sounds of Summer" =20 OR 07-19-69 Newport Folk Festival Newport RI PBS-TV Broadcast as "The = Sounds Of Summer '69", Nov. 1969=20 CAN ANYONE CONFIRM WHICH IT IS ? Chelsea Morning/Cactus Tree/Night in The City/Marcie/Nathan La = Franeer/Rainy Night House/Blue Boy/For Free/Get Together/Fiddle & The = Drum/I Think I Understand/Both Sides Now. [demime 0.97c-p1 removed an attachment of type image/jpeg which had a name of LED.jpg] ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 23 Dec 2003 11:35:21 +1100 From: "ash" Subject: Tattoos? Why have a sandwich board.....?...why not a huge tattoo? to explain yourself? I remember this photo in a magazine...when I was in my teens..so that is 1969 ish.....and the photo was of a British skinhead (also known as lager louts or and football supporters?) being arrested..he had one hand behind him, held by the policeman and the other hand was giving the 2 fingers to the camera......but as he scowled.....you could see these words tattooed on his head..........F*** OFF. well that's great when your young?.....but now as this young gentleman nears his 60th birthday..will he still have these words on his head?...or will his grandchildren...ask what the laser scars mean? But I love it....with being English when you have to describe people.... imagine....... a housing estate.... The 2 middle aged ladies over their fence talking to each other..... "you know him?...he's the one with the funny leg, got all that money in compensation payout, left his wife bought a new house got this young thing in tow and likes to drink..oh and that flash car..who doe he think he is....always waves as he goes by tho" and "She's the one with that funny hairstyle, got too many kids and swears...oh hangs around the pubs and dresses as a slut" or "Jim or Bill...he's just got out of prison, nobody will give him a chance!.....oh yeah he steals everything...he's got this tattoo on his head say F*** off!...quite a nice bloke really!" or "That's Michael over there....well...Veronica now [voice is lowered] the one whose having the sex change..all his bits off...I know, makes me blush too, bet its painful?, well he has always been funny...I blame his mum really always ..well you know...my boy, Ridge, well he's in the army now...learning a real trade, oh he likes to drink still, they the army will make a man of him!!" see you get the gist?....why go around with a sandwich board when you just go to the neighbours and they will tell you who you are!!! "That Ashley, what a name, anyway, he's always on that computer and listens to that old type music, Nancy Sinatra? or was it Julie Andrews?..no Joni Miller or someone?...no Jane Mitchell?.. Joni Mitchell? she sang that song.....Puff the magic dragon song? well he plants trees?, I feel sorry for his wife, she tried to make him see a doctor I heard and take those pills, he seems obsessed with this singer, posters and picture of her, always playing her music.....you can hear it thru the walls.....I know, his poor children!!...he'll drive them to leave home, my Derrick....oh he loves Elvis..now there IS a singer!..not like these young singers....all they want is fame, sex , drugs and money...Elvis, well he's.....well you know....we've got all his records and this big picture of him above our bed......my mum, years ago saw him in Las Vegas and the same time as Liberace, she's seen Ole Blue Eyes the year before...now they could sing and such gentlemen!..oooh and that poor Michael Jackson..such a nice family, Quakers I think or was that the Osmonds..no they were Jewish? or was it the Bee Gees..there dad came from that house on the corner... I do feel sorry for his wife tho....oh I know..I wouldn't put up with it..better go now as the old man is about to come home and he wants his meal ready when he arrives in..or there be hell to pay..its not as if...he knocks me about ..all the time..its just the booze gets in to him and well..he always says sorry ...better go as I hate those folk who gossip!" maybe a sandwich board is a good thing...you can always update it...but say you picked up someone else's by mistake??? oh another thing.......I write all this stuff......put the spell checker on what I have written and then send..but it still sends stuff that makes no sense...well that's my story.....how will Santa fit down my chimney..its blocked up! ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Dec 2003 23:50:53 EST From: LCStanley7@aol.com Subject: Spark Here is a question for us from a friend of mine who isn't on the list: If you asked anyone on the Joni list what a "spark" is, would they agree that it has no sexual overtones ... it just means (in Joni terms) "I find you very interesting"? Answers? Love, Laura ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Dec 2003 22:21:06 -0700 From: "Norman Pennington" Subject: Re: Spark Laura posed the following: > Here is a question for us from a friend of mine who isn't on the list: > > If you asked anyone on the Joni list what a "spark" is, would they agree that > it has no sexual overtones ... it just means (in Joni terms) "I find you very > interesting"? > > Answers? > > Love, > Laura > I went to dictionary.com hoping to find the archaic definition I first heard from my grandwmother...and...Voila! "spark \Spark\, v. i. To play the spark, beau, or lover. A sure sign that his master was courting, or, as it is termed, sparking, within. --W. Irwing." I assume the question was/is asked in the context of "Court and Spark?" According to my grandmother, "sparking" meant "making out" or, kissing, cuddling, etc. While not overtly sexual, it sure leads down that path! Best Regards, Buck ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 23 Dec 2003 16:55:47 +1100 From: "ash" Subject: Sparks Sparks? Hey they were a male duo (who had spotted hankies around their necks..what does that mean???) they were the Mael brothers..Ron and Russell! Kimono my house .1976..? This town aint big enough for the both us..I had the Lp somewhere...... are they still going? Ash ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 23 Dec 2003 02:17:27 -0500 From: ljirvin@jmdl.com Subject: Today in History: December 23 1976: Hejira was certified Gold by the RIAA - ---- For a comprehensive reference to Joni's appearances, consult Joni Mitchell ~ A Chronology of Appearances: http://www.jonimitchell.com/appearances.html ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 23 Dec 2003 02:17:27 -0500 From: ljirvin@jmdl.com Subject: Today's Library Links: December 23 On December 23 the following article was published: 1998: "The Intermedia Expressions of Joni Mitchell" - Bloomington Independent (Biography) http://www.jmdl.com/articles/view.cfm?id=55 ------------------------------ End of onlyJMDL Digest V2003 #398 ********************************* ------- Post messages to the list by clicking here: mailto:joni@smoe.org Unsubscribe by clicking here: mailto:onlyjoni-digest-request@smoe.org?body=unsubscribe ------- Siquomb, isn't she? (http://www.siquomb.com/siquomb.cfm)