From: owner-onlyjoni-digest@smoe.org (onlyJMDL Digest) To: onlyjoni-digest@smoe.org Subject: onlyJMDL Digest V2013 #249 Reply-To: joni@smoe.org Sender: owner-onlyjoni-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-onlyjoni-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk Website:http://www.jonimitchell.com Unsubscribe:mailto:onlyjoni-digest-request@smoe.org?body=unsubscribe onlyJMDL Digest Thursday, June 27 2013 Volume 2013 : Number 249 ========== TOPICS and authors in this Digest: -------- Re: New Library item: On the QT [Catherine McKay ] This Rain, This Rain [Marianne Rizzo ] This Rain, This Rain - the lyrics [Catherine McKay ] Re: re why Furry now [Dave Blackburn ] Re: This Rain, This Rain - the lyrics [Catherine McKay Subject: Re: New Library item: On the QT Ha! I can see myself and some other jmdlers in the audience. >________________________________ > From: "TheStaff@JoniMitchell.com" >To: joni@smoe.org >Sent: Thursday, June 27, 2013 12:39:05 AM >Subject: New Library item: On the QT > > >Title: On the QT >Publication: LightNews >Date: 2013.6.19 > >http://jonimitchell.com/library/view.cfm?id=2616 ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 27 Jun 2013 08:08:06 -0400 From: Marianne Rizzo Subject: This Rain, This Rain Thank you, oh so much Catherine and also Vincenzo. It means so much to me to read this. Catherine, You have taken on a full time job with the transcription and the chronicling and photographs of everything luminato. "The work you've taken on. . . " You have illuminated us. Eternally grateful to you and all the jmdlers and also, thank you joni So much here. Marianne > > > > > -------- > This Rain, This Rain - the lyrics [Catherine McKay > ---------------------------------------------------------------------- > > Date: Thu, 27 Jun 2013 04:44:18 -0700 (PDT) > From: Catherine McKay > Subject: This Rain, This Rain - the lyrics > > Here are the words for "This Rain, This Rain." Wording varied somewhat from > one night to the other, with Joni sometimes repeating a word or phrase > here > and there, and this is an amalgam of the two. > > I'd like to thank Vincenzo > Mancini for his help on this. The version he found had clearer sound than my > own recording and, along with the section of Emily Carr's journal, as well as > Joni's talks about it both at TimesTalks and before she began the poem on > stage, helped to clarify some of the parts that > weren't making a lot of sense > because we couldn't hear them well ("tree-souls," for example, and what about > those "balky sheets"?) > > B > This rain, this rain > by Joni Mitchell > > Is this the > wettest place on earth? > My little fire is sputtering. > Oh, now my hot water > bottle's gone and burst, > And I'm mean mad > And I'm muttering > Soggy biscuits! > Balky sheets! > The bucket brimming where the canvas leaks. > I smack my dogs for > muddy feet. > Oh, this rain, this rain > will not retreat. > > That painting I made > yesterday - > Who would want to look at it? > It's just a mess! > Greens and greys. > I threw a stupid book at it. > I'd hoped to catch tree-souls in paint. > But hope! > That's for idiots > And saints. > My soulless trees > Are so incomplete. > Oh, this > rain, this rain will not retreat > > I wish I had a real good pal, > Someone I > could stand to listen to. > I don't care - guy, gal, > Just someone who could take > me too. > If I was nicer, less astute, > Less compelled to spew the truth... > For > truth is seldom soft and sweet, > And this rain, this rain, > Will not retreat, > will not be beat > > All big cities make me sick, > Except in Europe, I don't know > why. > Big buildings stretching brick by brick. > Like my cedar groves, they > scrape the sky. > It doesn't rain like this back there. > Oh, it rains enough, > just enough to wash the air > and sweep the litter off the street. > But THIS > rain, Oh, > This rain will not be beat > > I wrote this poem for Emily Carr, > Though she's been dead for quite some time. > Most of these words are hers, > But > some are mine. > I made them rhyme. > > This rain, > This rain, > Oh, this rain > > > "This > Rain, This Rain" is based on the writings of Emily Carr and is part of one of > Carr's journals. This particular journal is called "Hundreds and thousands." > When Carr talks about "The Elephant," it's her little house on wheels. (See > photo at > http://tinyhouseontario.com/2012/02/05/emily-carr-another-tiny-houser/emily-c > arr-dogs-and-elephant/) > > Excerpt from "Hundreds and Thousands,"B by Emily > Carr (pp 88-89) > > "Such a terrible loneliness and depression is on me tonight! > My heart has gone heavier and heavier all day. I don't know any reason for it > so I've mixed a large dose of Epsom Salts, put my sulky fire, which simply > would not be cheerful, out, smacked the dogs all round for yapping and shut > myself in the Elephant, although by clocks I should not be thinking of bed for > three hours yet. This is the dampest spot I was ever in my life. The bed, my > clothes, the food, everything gets clammy. I burst two hot bottles two nights > running. I took a brick to bed the next night; too hot, set fire to the cover. > Tonight I invented a regular safety furnace. I put the hot brick into an empty > granite saucepan with a lid on. It is safe and airing the bed out > magnificently. (One thing that did go right.) > > "I made two poor sketches > today. Every single condition was good for work, but there you are - > cussedness! What a lot I'd give tonight for a real companionable pal, male or > female, a soul pal one wasn't afraid to speak to or listen to. I've never had > one like that. I expect it is my own fault. If I was nice right through I'd > attract that kind to me. I do not give confidences. Now look at Mother "Pop > Shop." There she is in her tiny shop doling out gingerpop, cones, confidences > and smiles to all comers. Let any old time-waster hitch up to her counter and > she will entertain him and listen to him as long as his wind lasts. Tonight > one was there a full hour and a half. She has nothing to sit on at the > counter. She's awfully fat and heavy but she lolls with this bit of fat on a > candy box and that bit on a pop bottle and another bit on the cream jars and > the counter supports her tummy while she waggles her permanent wave and > manifold chins and glib tongue till > the sun sinks behind the hill and her son whimpers for supper and the man has > paid his last nickel and compliment. Then she rolls over to the cook stove > complaining at the shortness of the day. Does she get more out of life by that > sort of stuff than I do with my sort of stuff? I wouldn't change - but who is > the wiser woman? who lives fullest and collects the biggest bag full of life? > I dunnob&." > > Carr, Emily. Hundreds and Thousands: The Journals of Emily Carr. > Vancouver: Douglas & ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 27 Jun 2013 04:44:18 -0700 (PDT) From: Catherine McKay Subject: This Rain, This Rain - the lyrics Here are the words for "This Rain, This Rain." Wording varied somewhat from one night to the other, with Joni sometimes repeating a word or phrase here and there, and this is an amalgam of the two. I'd like to thank Vincenzo Mancini for his help on this. The version he found had clearer sound than my own recording and, along with the section of Emily Carr's journal, as well as Joni's talks about it both at TimesTalks and before she began the poem on stage, helped to clarify some of the parts that weren't making a lot of sense because we couldn't hear them well ("tree-souls," for example, and what about those "balky sheets"?) B This rain, this rain by Joni Mitchell Is this the wettest place on earth? My little fire is sputtering. Oh, now my hot water bottle's gone and burst, And I'm mean mad And I'm muttering Soggy biscuits! Balky sheets! The bucket brimming where the canvas leaks. I smack my dogs for muddy feet. Oh, this rain, this rain will not retreat. That painting I made yesterday - Who would want to look at it? It's just a mess! Greens and greys. I threw a stupid book at it. I'd hoped to catch tree-souls in paint. But hope! That's for idiots And saints. My soulless trees Are so incomplete. Oh, this rain, this rain will not retreat I wish I had a real good pal, Someone I could stand to listen to. I don't care - guy, gal, Just someone who could take me too. If I was nicer, less astute, Less compelled to spew the truth... For truth is seldom soft and sweet, And this rain, this rain, Will not retreat, will not be beat All big cities make me sick, Except in Europe, I don't know why. Big buildings stretching brick by brick. Like my cedar groves, they scrape the sky. It doesn't rain like this back there. Oh, it rains enough, just enough to wash the air and sweep the litter off the street. But THIS rain, Oh, This rain will not be beat I wrote this poem for Emily Carr, Though she's been dead for quite some time. Most of these words are hers, But some are mine. I made them rhyme. This rain, This rain, Oh, this rain "This Rain, This Rain" is based on the writings of Emily Carr and is part of one of Carr's journals. This particular journal is called "Hundreds and thousands." When Carr talks about "The Elephant," it's her little house on wheels. (See photo at http://tinyhouseontario.com/2012/02/05/emily-carr-another-tiny-houser/emily-c arr-dogs-and-elephant/) Excerpt from "Hundreds and Thousands,"B by Emily Carr (pp 88-89) "Such a terrible loneliness and depression is on me tonight! My heart has gone heavier and heavier all day. I don't know any reason for it so I've mixed a large dose of Epsom Salts, put my sulky fire, which simply would not be cheerful, out, smacked the dogs all round for yapping and shut myself in the Elephant, although by clocks I should not be thinking of bed for three hours yet. This is the dampest spot I was ever in my life. The bed, my clothes, the food, everything gets clammy. I burst two hot bottles two nights running. I took a brick to bed the next night; too hot, set fire to the cover. Tonight I invented a regular safety furnace. I put the hot brick into an empty granite saucepan with a lid on. It is safe and airing the bed out magnificently. (One thing that did go right.) "I made two poor sketches today. Every single condition was good for work, but there you are - cussedness! What a lot I'd give tonight for a real companionable pal, male or female, a soul pal one wasn't afraid to speak to or listen to. I've never had one like that. I expect it is my own fault. If I was nice right through I'd attract that kind to me. I do not give confidences. Now look at Mother "Pop Shop." There she is in her tiny shop doling out gingerpop, cones, confidences and smiles to all comers. Let any old time-waster hitch up to her counter and she will entertain him and listen to him as long as his wind lasts. Tonight one was there a full hour and a half. She has nothing to sit on at the counter. She's awfully fat and heavy but she lolls with this bit of fat on a candy box and that bit on a pop bottle and another bit on the cream jars and the counter supports her tummy while she waggles her permanent wave and manifold chins and glib tongue till the sun sinks behind the hill and her son whimpers for supper and the man has paid his last nickel and compliment. Then she rolls over to the cook stove complaining at the shortness of the day. Does she get more out of life by that sort of stuff than I do with my sort of stuff? I wouldn't change - but who is the wiser woman? who lives fullest and collects the biggest bag full of life? I dunnob&." Carr, Emily. Hundreds and Thousands: The Journals of Emily Carr. Vancouver: Douglas & McIntyre, 2006. ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 27 Jun 2013 01:02:51 +0000 From: c Karma Subject: re why Furry now Dave wrote: Yes, Clint, I agree that a C note would have not been patronizing and been taken as a due of respect. Joni does undoubtedly mock him in the song somewhat and does get pretty specific about his condition and habits. She was well aware of the irony of her limo shining on his shanty street while he clearly had nothing. A little "pourboire" would have been appropriate. And, she wrote the song confessing she was not familiar with what W.C Handy played, thus not curious enough to read up on him, relying just on her strong impressions of his heyday. Furry Lewis was the living link to Handy and might have been fascinating to learn from if she had gained his trust. ME: This is as much dillitante-ism as Joni has EVER confessed to. Props to her. I think she may have taken the high road here. Other explananations for Lewis' poor behavior might be less flattering still. I think she sang the song expecting to talk it through, and rejoice to the thought that her dinging voice "broke free.". Another choice she might consider is to recite the poem that accompanies the poem that accompanies the center section of Paprika Plains, should she ever welcome another "speaking engagement." I know someone who could accompany her. CC ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 26 Jun 2013 18:41:13 -0700 From: Dave Blackburn Subject: Re: re why Furry now Well, Chris, she also did admit to not knowing where she stands, and really didn't know clouds/love/life at all. On Jun 26, 2013, at 6:02 PM, c Karma wrote: > Dave wrote: > > Yes, Clint, I agree that a C note would have not been patronizing and been > taken as a due of respect. Joni does undoubtedly mock him in the song somewhat > and does get pretty specific about his condition and habits. She was well > aware of the irony of her limo shining on his shanty street while he clearly > had nothing. A little "pourboire" would have been appropriate. > > And, she wrote the song confessing she was not familiar with what W.C Handy > played, thus not curious enough to read up on him, relying just on her strong > impressions of his heyday. Furry Lewis was the living link to Handy and might > have been fascinating to learn from if she had gained his trust. > > > ME: This is as much dillitante-ism as Joni has EVER confessed to. Props to > her. I think she may have taken the high road here. Other explananations for > Lewis' poor behavior might be less flattering still. I think she sang the > song expecting to talk it through, and rejoice to the thought that her dinging > voice "broke free.". Another choice she might consider is to recite the poem > that accompanies the poem that accompanies the center section of Paprika > Plains, should she ever welcome another "speaking engagement." I know someone > who could accompany her. > > CC ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 27 Jun 2013 06:37:45 -0700 (PDT) From: Catherine McKay Subject: Re: This Rain, This Rain - the lyrics I guess she used "gal" to rhyme with "pal." Emily Carr used "pal" in her journal, but then "male or female." Maybe it's a generational thing, or being from the west (It reminds me of cowboy songs, like "Get along, little dogeys!" I wouldn't say "gal" unless I was trying to be funny, but Joni did use a lot of humour in her reading, combined with a sense of frustration and a bit of anger. Channelling Emily Carr. It was this particular section, though, that made me feel Joni more than the rest. Artists may have friends but their lives seem fairly lonely. They have to be alone to create. Other people can be a distraction. ("I am a lonely painter. I live in a box of paints.") There probably aren't a lot of people who get them. In the Tuesday performance, she said, "someone who could STAND me too" and on Wednesday, "someone who could TAKE me too." So, someone who can stand her moods, someone who can take whatever she dishes out. I can see why Joni would be attracted to Emily Carr's persona. She sound grouchy but loveable and now I want to read some of her books. I didn't realize that Carr was, in fact, a writer before she was a painter. In particular, I liked this line of Joni's: "If I was nicer, less astute, Less compelled to spew the truth... For truth is seldom soft and sweet." I gather from that that Joni knows how blunt she can be and sometimes wishes she was "nicer," except that that's not her way. >________________________________ > From: "Bob.Muller@Fluor.com" >To: Catherine McKay >Cc: joni@smoe.org >Sent: Thursday, June 27, 2013 8:05:35 AM >Subject: Re: This Rain, This Rain - the lyrics > > >Thanks to you and everyone who pitched in. VERY exciting to see new work >from Joni. When I read this section: > >I wish I had a real good pal, >Someone I >could stand to listen to. >I don't care - guy, gal, >Just someone who could take >me too. >If I was nicer, less astute, >Less compelled to spew the truth... >For >truth is seldom soft and sweet, >And this rain, this rain, >Will not retreat, >will not be beat > >I could tell it was Joni. Nobody else composes words like that. Strange to >see her use a word like "pal" (I use it all the time) but she uses it to >rhyme with "gal" also a somewhat antiquated word. I mean, all you women >out there who want to be referred to as a 'gal' raise your hand. > >Yeah, that's what I thought. But I digress. This was exciting to read. >"Just someone who could take me too" puts me in the mind of "Jericho" >which I heard just yesterday, albeit a cover. > >Bob >------------------------------------------------------------ >The information transmitted is intended only for the person >or entity to which it is addressed and may contain >proprietary, business-confidential and/or privileged material. >If you are not the intended recipient of this message you are >hereby notified that any use, review, retransmission, dissemination, >distribution, reproduction or any action taken in reliance upon >this message is prohibited. If you received this in error, please >contact the sender and delete the material from any computer. > >Any views expressed in this message are those of the individual >sender and may not necessarily reflect the views of the company. >------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------ End of onlyJMDL Digest V2013 #249 ********************************* ------- Post messages to the list by clicking here:mailto:joni@smoe.org Unsubscribe by clicking here: mailto:onlyjoni-digest-request@smoe.org?body=unsubscribe