Plain in the city

A plain Quaker folk singer with a Juris Doctorate in his back pocket, salt in his blood, and a set of currach oars in the closet, Ulleann Pipes under his arm, guitar on his back, Anglo Irish baggage, wandering through New York City ... in constant amaze. Statement of Faithfulness. As a member of the Quaker Bloggers Ad Hoc Committee I affirm that I will be faithful to the Book of Discipline of my Meeting 15th Street Monthly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends.

Thursday, June 30, 2005

Big Blog Contest #1

Help name the new CD

Been in the studio this morning, biz meeting this afternoon back in the studio, now off to the dinner with Jane and Chris... all the while struggling with a new working title for the CD... with all its zits and badly mended broken bones... so here is one possible title for it...

"Stumbling from ego through error towards anywhere..."

Any suggestions acceptable...

3 Comments:

At 6:34 PM, Blogger Dyske said...

I think "Plain in the City" is a good one, and cross-promote the website and the CD. Sell the CD here, and print the URL on CD. And, you should sing some of your posts here and make a song out it.

 
At 6:52 PM, Blogger Amanda said...

Call it "Interstice"


"in·ter·stice (n-tûrsts)
n. pl. in·ter·stic·es (-st-sz, -sz)

A space, especially a small or narrow one, between things or parts: “There is a gleam of luminous gold, where the sinking western sun has found a first direct interstice in the clouds” (John Fowles)."

It's one of my favourite words and it has always seemed to me like the place where grace is most likely to get you...as in the chorus of my favourite Cohen song:


The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again,
I heard them say,
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
The wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again;
the dove is never free

Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in.

You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
There is no drum.
Every heart
To love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in.

 
At 5:12 AM, Blogger Lorcan said...

Did I forget to say that the prize for the winner is a job in Cambridge?

:)

lor

 

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