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Number one
It’s January twenty-six. I’m freezing. Ed Fitzgerald, Age Nineteen – five feet, ten inches.
Black hair, Brown eyes – Going home to Boston, Massachusetts.
It’s four, and I’m hungry and broke. I wish I was dead.
But today I am a man
Number two
Gentlemen: Go to five-thirty East Lemon Avenue, Monrovia, California, for an easy handout
Number three
Marie Blackwell, Age nineteen – Brown eyes, Brown hair.
Considered pretty.
One eighteen East Ventura Street, Las Vegas, Nevada.
Object, matrimony
Number four
Dear Marie, A very good idea you have there.
I too am on the lookout for a suitable mate. My description
(No description follows – so he evidently got his ride.)
Number five
Possible rides:
January sixteenth – fifty-eight. January seventeenth – seventy-six
January eighteenth – nineteen. January nineteeth – six.
January twentieth – eleven. To hell with it – I’m going to walk.
Number six
Jesus was God in the flesh
Number seven
Looking for millionaire wife –
Good looking – Very handsome – Intelligent –
Good bull thrower – Etcetera.
All you have to do is find me, You lucky women. Name’s George.
Number eight
Damn in anyhow, Here I am stuck in the cold – I’ve come twenty seven hundred miles from Chi, Illinois. Slept along the highway.
Slept in open box car without top –
Went hungry for two days, (Raining, too) But they say there’s a hell –
What the hell do they think this is?
I’m on my way – one half of desert to the East,
Then back to El-Lay to try once more. Car just passed by –
Make that two more – three more.
Do not think they’ll let me finish my story.
Hoping to get the hell out Here’s my name –
Johnnie Reinwald, nine-fifteen South Westlake Avenue, Los Angeles
Here’s wishing all who read this
if they can get a lift and the best of luck to you –
Why in hell did you come anyway?
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2. |
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3. |
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Fair one, when you were here, I filled the house with flowers.
Fair one, now you are gone – only an empty couch is left.
On the couch the embroidered quilt is rolled up;
I cannot sleep. It is three years since you went.
The perfume you left behind haunts me still.
The perfume strays about me forever, but where are you, Beloved?
I sigh – the yellow leaves fall from the branch.
I weep – the dew twinkles white on the green mosses.
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4. |
The Intruder (1931)
01:12
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The grass of Yen is growing green and long
While in Chin, the leafy mulberry branches hang low
Even now, while my longing heart is breaking,
Are you thinking, my dear, of coming back to me?
– O wind of Spring, you are a stranger,
Why do you enter through the silken curtains of my bower?
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5. |
December, 1942 (1942)
07:08
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Come Away, Death
Come away, come away death and in sad cypress let me be laid
Fly away, fly away, breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it! My part of death, no one so true did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet on my black coffin let there be strown
Not a friend, not a friend greet my poor corpse,
where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save
Lay me O! where sad true lover never find my grave to weep there
The Heron
The heron – its cry is mournful in the reed plain,
As though it had called to mind something, which it wanted to forget
The Rose
The rose that blooms in paradise, burns with an ecstasy
too sweet for mortal eyes
To lose it is to lose delight beyond compare,
to have it is to have despair
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Cincinatti, Ohio,
October second, nineteen thirty-five
Hello Pal
Gee! I was glad to hear from you, believe it or not Pal I just received your letter today it must have followed me all over the world but it got to my wife and she broke it open and
read it and sent it to me this morning.
Well I came back east and run into a shotgun wedding
and I was the goat so back on the bum a-gain, well Pal I had a swell time in Cincy, till my wife’s father found out I was back, and then the little lamb was led up to the altar, so now I’m just out of jail, and feeling fine and I think I have a job starting the twelfth of October and I truly hope my dear little wife is dead by then.
Give Kain-tucky my best regards and tell him I’m not doing so well, but looking to score before long in fact I’ve got to, or get in jail again for it is cold out here, and I’m not good looking enough to get by that way do you get the drift.
So I’ll say good night, and good luck hoping to hear from you at once and tell me all the news.
Your pal Pablo
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The rose that blooms in Paradise
burns with an ecstasy too sweet for mortal eyes
But sometimes down the jasper walls a petal falls,
toward earth and night
To lose it is to lose delight beyond compare,
to have it is to have despair
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Chris Rainier London, UK
some kind of folk music. various microtonal guitars, weissenborn [a hollowneck lap steel, often with preparations]…also occasional singing, and other instrumental odds and ends.
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