Caveat: Like golden rays of sun in the cloud

I am having a very busy week. I've been putting extra hours in prep time at work, posting grades, planning some curriculum for a new class, and doing some other bureaucratic pursuits. 

In parallel with starting this new medication (see Monday's post), which features some not-so-pleasant side effects, I am feeling more exhausted than I have been in a long time. 

So… sorry, I'm not posting very interestingly, lately. I have my little "stockpile" of pre-started blogpost drafts… things collected at various times, from which I can grab some random thing (mostly poetry, or music, or occasionally bits of online humor) when something new doesn't occur to me.  These posts tend to come across as a bit impersonal, I guess. As of today, that stockpile is empty. 

What I'm listening to right now.

Röyksopp, "You Don't Have A Clue." Of course, I blogged this song before. But I didn't post the lyrics, then, as I hadn't yet fixed on that little habit. And, it was a long time ago.  So again, then.

Lyrics.

It's late in the night, dancing is done
The music has died, you're ready to run

But you don't have a clue, this party hasn't ended yet
Not for me and you, now you're just pretending

You're hiding from yourself
Yes you are, yes you are
Like golden rays of sun in the cloud

We're meant to be one, I know we are
If I am the sky, then you are my star

Hey you don't have a clue, this party never ended
Not for me and you, I know you're just pretending

You're hiding from yourself
Yes you are, yes you are
Like golden rays of sun in the cloud

I will make you see
Haven't you got, haven't you got it yet?
Just lay down for a while, next to me

Didn't mean to make you panic
I didn't mean to put you off
Baby it's the way that you've got me
I listen to my heart and it takes you high
And you ask me how
Can I show you how
I need your love right now, now, now

[daily log: walking, 6.5]

Caveat: Riannon, uerch Heueyd Hen, wyf i, a’m rodi y wr o’m hanwod yd ydys.

At the University of Minnesota, in 1988, I took a class on the Medieval Welsh language. I don't know why. I think I had this idea of trying to connect with my alleged Welsh heritage (the family name "Way" is Welsh in origin, cognate with "Vaughn" and "Waugh," and bears no relation to the English word "way" meaning means or road). 

It was one of the most difficult classes I ever took. Yet I remember it quite fondly.

Most of the other students had some background that would be appropriate – either knowledge of Modern Welsh, or work with some other cognate language, like Irish or Scots Gaelic. All I had was some linguistics and Latin. The first day, the professor handed us this text.

Pwyll Pendeuic Dyuet a oed yn arglwyd ar seith cantref Dyuet. A threigylgweith yd oed yn Arberth, prif lys idaw, a dyuot yn y uryt ac yn y uedwl uynet y hela. Sef kyueir o'y gyuoeth a uynnei y hela, Glynn Cuch. Ac ef a gychwynnwys y nos honno o Arberth, ac a doeth hyt ym Penn Llwyn Diarwya, ac yno y bu y nos honno. A thrannoeth yn ieuengtit y dyd kyuodi a oruc, a dyuot y Lynn Cuch i ellwng e gwn dan y coet. A chanu y gorn a dechreu dygyuor yr hela, a cherdet yn ol y cwn, ac ymgolli a'y gydymdeithon. Ac ual y byd yn ymwarandaw a llef yr erchwys, ef a glywei llef erchwys arall, ac nit oedynt unllef, a hynny yn dyuot yn erbyn y erchwys ef. Ac ef a welei lannerch yn y coet o uaes guastat; ac ual yd oed y erchwys ef yn ymgael ac ystlys y llannerch, ef a welei carw o ulaen yr erchwys arall. A pharth a pherued y llannerch, llyma yr erchwys a oed yn y ol yn ymordiwes ac ef, ac yn y uwrw y'r llawr.

We also had a "reference grammar". I had already acquired a (modern) Welsh dictionary.

We had to translate the text, which was the introductory passage from Pwyll Pendeuic Dyuet – a bit of Welsh mythology from the Mabinogion (Red Book of Hergest). I actually managed it. It was very hard. Eventually, we translated the entire story, along with some Welsh poetry and other medieval snippets.

This intensive experience has led to the story of Pwyll and Rhiannon (a Welsh horse godess) being one of the most vivid stories resident in my imagination.

Here is the part where Rhiannon first appears, in the story.

Yna y dywot Pwyll. "A uorwyn," heb ef, " yr mwyn y gwr mwyhaf a gery, arho ui." "Arhoaf yn llawen," heb hi, "ac oed llessach y'r march, pei ass archut yr meityn." Sewyll, ac arhos a oruc y uorwyn, a gwaret y rann a dylyei uot am y hwyneb o wisc y phenn, ac attal y golwc arnaw, a dechreu ymdidan ac ef. "Arglwydes," heb ef, " pan doy di, a pha gerdet yssyd arnat ti?" "Kerdet wrth uy negesseu," heb hi, "a da yw gennyf dy welet ti." "Crassaw wrthyt y gennyf i," heb ef. Ac yna medylyaw a wnaeth, bot yn diuwyn ganthaw pryt a welsei o uorwyn eiroet, a gwreic, y wrth y ffryt hi. "Arglwydes," heb ef, "a dywedy di ymi dim o'th negesseu?" "Dywedaf, y rof a Duw," heb hi. "Pennaf neges uu ymi, keissaw dy welet ti." "Llyna," heb y Pwyll, " y neges oreu gennyf i dy dyuot ti idi. Ac a dywedy di ymi pwy wyt?" "Dywedaf, Arglwyd," heb hi. "Riannon, uerch Heueyd Hen, wyf i, a'm rodi y wr o'm hanwod yd ydys. Ac ny mynneis innheu un gwr, a hynny o'th garyat ti. Ac nys mynnaf etwa, onyt ti a'm gwrthyt. Ac e wybot dy attep di am hynny e deuthum i." "Rof i a Duw," heb ynteu Pwyll, "llyna uy attep i iti, pei caffwn dewis ar holl wraged a morynnyon y byt, y mae ti a dewisswn." "Ie," heb hitheu, "os hynny a uynny, kyn uy rodi y wr arall, gwna oed a mi." "Goreu yw gennyf i," heb y Pwyll, "bo kyntaf; ac yn y lle y mynnych ti, gwna yr oet." "Gwnaf, Arglwyd," heb hi, "blwydyn y heno, yn llys Heueyd, mi a baraf bot gwled darparedic yn barawt erbyn dy dyuot." "Yn llawen," heb ynteu, "a mi a uydaf yn yr oet hwnnw." "Arglwyd," heb hi, "tric yn iach, a choffa gywiraw dy edewit, ac e ymdeith yd af i.

Rhiannon_by_alan_leeTranslations of the Mabinogion abound online - I'll not attempt to replicate my undergraduate feat of translation. At right, is a painting of Rhiannon, by Alan Lee, in his illustration of the Mabinogion.

 

 

 

 


What I'm listening to right now.

Fleetwood Mac, "Rhiannon."

Lyrics.

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
Takes through the sky like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?

All your life you've never seen a woman
Taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you Heaven?
Will you ever win?

She is like a cat in the dark
And then she is the darkness
She rules her life like a fine skylark
And when the sky is starless

All your life you've never seen a woman
Taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you Heaven?
Will you ever win? Will you ever win?
[| From: https://www.elyrics.net/read/f/fleetwo… |]

Rhiannon
Rhiannon
Rhiannon
Rhiannon

She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
She was alive like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?

All your life you've never seen a woman
Taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you Heaven?
Will you ever win? Will you ever win?

Rhiannon
Rhiannon
Rhiannon

Taken by, taken by the sky
Taken by, taken by the sky
Taken by, taken by the sky

Dreams unwind
Love's a state of mind
Dreams unwind
Love's a state of mind

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: choking on escapable darkness

Holly Wood (her real name, apparently), is a political and social commentarist operating in the twitteresque postblogoid realm called "medium.com". But her writing is quite astute. She leans more radical than I, but I respect radicalism, and often find it inspiring. She posted this untitled bit of poetry:

Freedom requires cultivating
the peculiar and completely irrational
faculty for projecting imagination
beyond the horizon of common sense.

We have to drive out beyond the city limits of hegemony
away from the light pollution of neoliberal ideology.

Men do not rule.
Men have never ruled.
Only legitimacy has ruled.
End man’s legitimacy and
you end the rule of man.

To end man’s legitimacy, child,
you must become exceedingly fluent
in what today is only unfathomable.

Hurry, though,
we are choking on escapable darkness.

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: castles of glass

Tournez, Tournez, Bon Chevaux De Bois

Turn, turn again,
Ape's blood in each vein!
The people that pass
Seem castles of glass,
The old and the good
Giraffes of the blue wood,
The soldier, the nurse,
Wooden-face and a curse,
Are shadowed with plumage
Like birds, by the gloomage.
Blond hair like a clown's
The music floats—drowns
The creaking of ropes,
The breaking of hopes,
The wheezing, the old,
Like harmoniums scold;
Go to Babylon, Rome,
The brain-cells called home,
The grave, new Jerusalem—
Wrinkled Methusalem!
From our floating hair
Derived the first fair
And queer inspiration
Of music, the nation
Of bright-plumed trees
And harpy-shrill breeze . . .
* * * *
Turn, turn again,
Ape's blood in each vein!

– Edith Sitwell (British poet, 1887-1964)

The lines "The people that pass / Seem castles of glass" reminded me of Cervantes' tale, "El licenciado Vidriera."

I had intended to write something more interesting today, but I lost my motivation. It might be under the pile of papers on my desk.

[daily log: walking, 6km]

Caveat: Happyfun Hospitaltime

I went to the hospital this morning, for one of my check-ups. I saw a new doctor – Dr Min, an oral cancer and post-op oral specialist (sort of a "cancer dentist"). His English is quite good – which sometimes is not such a good thing. You see, doctors have a tendency to digress on "worst-case scenarios." This is not information I really can use, and it creates a lot of anxiety for me. 

The news is not entirely bad. I guess there has been some slow closure of the exposed bone at the back of my lower jaw, but he's quite concerned over just how slow. Mostly, it didn't feel positive. "It could open up again," he mused. Hygiene will remain an ongoing problem. There are some other "lesions" too. No reason for biopsy at this point, given the periodic CT scans, but something we should keep an eye on. 

Dr Min has given me a prescription of a medication which "might" help accelerate the recovery of healthy flesh in the affected area. This use of the drug, called pentoxifylline (under brand name 페렌탈 in Korea), seems to be "off-label," but the doctor suggested that in my unsual case it could help, since the consequences of the necrosis in my mouth are similar to the "peripheral artery" problems for which the medication is normally indicated – specifically, the scary-sounding gangrene.

With respect to neuropathic pain (i.e. "ghost pain" related to severed nerves in my mouth and tongue), he was less helpful. He said in most cases, unless it is incapacitating, the best approach is to simply "endure" it. Most non-opioid painkillers aren't useful (which I already knew), and opioids, of course, have other issues. 

I certainly am not feeling particularly positive. Lately, I have felt like the quality of my teaching is declining, I feel uncreative in my my creative pursuits (writing or art), and of course I continue to reliably make zero net progress on my Korean ability. 

Last night, coming back on the subway from my effort to be social and active in Seoul yesterday, I just felt tired and frustrated. I had a weird epiphanic insight, as I sat watching the people around me. One reason I used to enjoy traveling is that I have always enjoyed "people-watching." One reason that I don't seem to enjoy traveling any more is that I find people-watching to be a much less positive experience. Instead, it has become a kind of burden. It's not that I've lost my interest in and curiosity about those around me. Rather, it seems that the problem is that this curiosity and interest is now tempered by a kind of simmering background jealousy. That is not a becoming emotion, I realize. Perhaps it is not wise for me to confess it, here. But it's a real thing, definitely – I have this sort of anger or frustration at the fact that most other people seem to lead these relatively (relatively) carefree existences, without looming health issues or limited horizons of the possible. I feel that I am at risk of becoming a bitter old man. That is not a desirable outcome.

It's easy for me to find optimism about humanity, but harder to find it about myself.

[daily log: walking, 10.5km]

Caveat: A crushing easter

I went into Seoul today, meeting my friend Peter and doing a walking-tour thing. I'll tell more about it tomorrow, maybe.

Meanwhile, unrelatedly… this guy crushes things with his hydraulic press and posts videos of his activities on youtube. As a bonus, he has a kind of evil-sounding laugh.

I feel that this is the pinnacle of our civilization's culture.

[daily log: walking, 4.5km]

Caveat: get to work, then

This is a humanoid "robot." Actually, I'm not sure just how autonomous it is, but it clearly has a lot of potential.

It's just a matter of time. It seems like robots are going to be doing interesting things, soon.

[daily log: walking, ]

Caveat: I’ve got dues to pay

What I'm listening to right now.

Cake, "Sheep Go To Heaven, Goats Go To Hell."

Lyrics.

I'm not feeling alright today,
I'm not feeling that great,
I'm not catching on fire today,
Love has started to fade.

I'm not going to smile today,
I'm not gonna laugh,
You're out living it up today,
I've got dues to pay.

And the grave digger puts on the foreceps,
The stonemason does all the work,
The barber can give you a haircut,
The carpenter can take you out to lunch.

Now, I just want to play on my pan pipes,
I just want to drink me some wine,
As soon as you're born, you start dying,
So you might as well have a good time.

Oh no…

Sheep go to Heaven,
Goats go to Hell.
Sheep go to Heaven,
Goats go to Hell.

Oh no…
All right…

I don't wanna go to Sunset Strip,
I don't wanna feel the emptyness,
Bold marquees with stupid band names,
I don't wanna go to Sunset Strip.

I don't wanna go to Sunset Strip,
I don't wanna feel the emptyness,
Bold marquees with stupid band names,
I don't wanna go to Sunset Strip.

And the grave digger puts on the foreceps,
The stonemason does all the work,
The barber can give you a haircut,
The carpenter can take you out to lunch.

Now, but, I just want to play on my pan pipes,
I just want to drink me some wine,
As soon as you're born, you start dying,
So you might as well have a good time.

Oh no…

Sheep go to Heaven,
Goats go to Hell.
Sheep go to Heaven,
Goats go to Hell.

All right…
Oh no…
Oh no…

Sheep go to Heaven,
Goats go to Hell…

[daily log: walking, 6km]

Caveat: 太古順民

I learned this four-character idiom from my elevator.

太古順民
태고순민
tae.go.sun.min
ancient-times-gentle-people
“In the old days people [were] gentle.”

I’m not sure the expression is that useful, at least for me – unless there’s an element of irony or some historical reference that makes it more complex than it seems.

It seems to encapsulate the extremely common misconception people tend to have, that times are always getting worse, and that civilization is in a state of decline. Why people believe this seems to be a fundamental quirk of human psychology, which perceives current problems as being more severe than past problems, and which then extends this misperception to the scope of human history. It doesn’t even matter how old you are. I have heard 3rd grade elementary kids heave heavy sighs and say things to the effect of, “it was so much better in the old times [meaning 2nd grade].”

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: 나는 이 지상에 잠시 천막을 친 자

나는 이 지상에 잠시 천막을 친 자
초원의 꽃처럼 남김없이 피고 지고
자신을 다 사르며 온전히 살아가기를

– 박노해 (한국어 시인, 1957년 ~ )

One who pitched his tent upon this Earth for but a moment am I.
Like a flower in a meadow, earnestly blooming,
Utterly destroyed that others might make their way in life.

– Park, No-hae (Korean poet, b. 1957)

My friend Peter posted this unnamed poem on his blog, and provided his own translation for it, since none was to be found.

[daily log: walking, 6km]

Caveat: The knowledge runs down

I awoke from a dream this morning. I was going to medical school in Mexico City.

Although it sounds preposterous, there are elements in my background that make this dream-plot more plausible, at least as a dream, than one might expect. When I lived in Mexico City in the 1980s, one of my coworkers, Joaquín, was studying in medical school (keeping in mind the caveat that at that time, a medical degree in Mexico was a baccalaureate degree. So at that time, I was immersed in a kind of second-hand medical education. Later, finishing my own undergraduate work, I studied quite a few botany courses, from which I derived a kind of comfort with biological discourses. More recently, since my cancer, I have developed a habit of trying hard to understand as much as possible about the various medical situations and treatments I have experienced, which has evolved into a kind of "hobby" of reading online medical blogs.

Anyway, that's just background, in an effort to understand how my brain managed to put together this dream, maybe. It wasn't that detailed. I was at my workplace in Mexico City, the main difference being that I was in medical school too – not just Joaquín. Of course, I was studying things related to cancer. I was having a difficult time, however. I couldn't seem to remember any of the various things I needed to memorize. Finally I looked over at Joaquín, and he just grinned. He had one of the fat textbooks open but was wearing it like a hat on the top of his head.

"What are you doing?" I asked. There was a weird echo, and when I looked around, I wasn't in my workplace but rather inside a hospital – kind of a cross between the Cancer Center here in Korea and the hospital where I spent some time in Mexico City. 

Joaquín looked like he was ready to perform surgery – except for the book on his head. He didn't answer for a while. So I asked him again, "What are you doing?"

Finally, he said laconically, "The knowldege runs down from the book into your brain."

[daily log: walking, 7.5km]

Caveat: 4.2 million bananas’ worth of radiation

Sometimes I look at the online comic xkcd. It's quite nerdy, and sometimes the author crosses over from funny to informative. He posted a radiation dosage chart that I thought was interesting – given my own brush with radiation. It was particularly notable that, in terms of ionizing radiation (i.e. the kind that is associated with cell mutations and necrosis), a banana puts out more of that kind of radiation than a cellphone.

Apparently, a banana puts out about 0.1 µSv of ionizing radiation. If my math is correct, with my 3-monthly CT scans, I'm getting about 80,000 bananas' worth of radiation per year. I'm not sure what the dosage was of my radiation treatment, but at minimum it was the equivalent of about 30 full CT scans, which would amount to 210 mSv, or 4,200,000 bananas. Given I have a (mild) banana allergy, I think the radiation was a better deal.

Radiation

Notes for Korean (finding meaning)

  • 외방 = "upstate" – the parts of Korea outside of Seoul
  • 버팀목 = one of those wooden supports attached to trees to hold them up or force them to grow in a certain direction
  • 미륵 = Maitreya
  • 돌무덤 = a cairn, a grave
  • 육군 = land army (as opposed to navy)
  • 해군 = navy
  • 공군 = air force
  • 중위 = army first lieutenant
  • 대위 = army captain
  • 대령 = army colonel
  • -기는 하다 (긴 하다) = a "concessive" verb phrase ending, perhaps "… although …" or "… admittedly …"

[daily log: walking, 6km]

Caveat: Plato’s annoying ghost

What Then?

His chosen comrades thought at school
He must grow a famous man;
He thought the same and lived by rule,
All his twenties crammed with toil;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'

Everything he wrote was read,
After certain years he won
Sufficient money for his need,
Friends that have been friends indeed;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. ' What then?'

All his happier dreams came true —
A small old house, wife, daughter, son,
Grounds where plum and cabbage grew,
poets and Wits about him drew;
'What then.?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'

The work is done,' grown old he thought,
'According to my boyish plan;
Let the fools rage, I swerved in naught,
Something to perfection brought';
But louder sang that ghost, 'What then?'
– William Butler Yeats (Irish poet, 1865-1939)

[daily log: walking, 1km]

Caveat: neighborhood critical mass

I'm not sure what's changed, but lately it seems like several times a week, walking to or from work, I pass or run into someone I know, in the neighborhood where I have worked for 7 years, called Hugok. Former students, mostly, or in a few cases former coworkers or parents of students with whom I developed a nodding acquaintance at some point.

Last week, for example, I ran into a former student, now a senior in high school, and it was a pleasing and gratifying conversation for both of us – I remembered him well enough to immediately speak to him by name (which I know pleases students and is not always something I can pull off well – my memory is porous with names), and we made small talk about his post-high-school plans (still vague, but he wants to study economics). 

One afternoon, walking to work, I saw a former fellow teacher on a bike, and we nodded and waved. Last night, I saw another former coworker standing at a bus stop. We had not interacted much, but there was the same nod-of-acquaintance.

Today while I walked home, I saw a young 2nd grade elementary student riding her bike. She likes to come and play with my alligator puppets in the teacher's room, and she's very verbal, in Korean, but trying to speak English makes her shy. I called her name and she was surprised but said hi, and then I realized she was next to her dad. He introduced himself and, half in Korean half in English, we talked for a while. He wanted to know what to do about his other daughter, who I taught a few months ago. She apparently doesn't like to study – the eternal Korean parent's lament.

These do not seem to be exceptions.

It's as if the number of people I know in Hugok has recently reached some critical mass, due to my having been here for so long. It's weird. I'm not used to being "known" in a neighborhood – I've moved far too frequently in my life, and I'm not very social, anyway, so it's not like I go out of my way to be known.

Nevertheless, there is something gratifying in all these chance encounters. They have a mostly fairly positive feeling.

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: Lemonfire

The next time you find yourself stranded in the winter wilderness with only a lemon, some zinc nails, some brass tacks, some wire, and some steel wool, you can feel secure in the knowledge that you can make a fire.

[daily log: walking, 6km]

Caveat: 중도를 추구하려고 하다

Yesterday, I went into Seoul in the morning. I really don’t do that very often, anymore – I wasn’t even able to remember the last time I went to Seoul on a weekday morning. The reason is that my friend Peter is back in Korea (again!) and we met for lunch, before I rushed back out to Ilsan and back to work. I was happy to see him again – he’s starting graduate school in the fall at Johns Hopkins, and is trying to consolidate his Korean Language skills in the meantime – he’s long ago far outstripped my ability, which leaves me feeling both proud and jealous.

Anyway, my main observation is that working after what should just be a relaxing jaunt into the city for a few hours was remarkably exhausting. I guess I just don’t have the stamina I used to – it makes me feel geriatric and decrepit.

Work, yesterday, was a challenge, anyway. Too much alternation between having to be the “heavy” teacher one moment, because kids aren’t being responsible, and having to reassure them the next, because they’re fragile and burst into tears when things get too hard. To be honest, I personally don’t feel the desire or need to be the “heavy,” but it’s essentially an external requirement of the job – in hagwonland, teachers who never play the “heavy” get criticized for being “too easy” or being only entertainment. The stereotypical Korean parental expectation is: “if my kids are having fun, they must not be learning anything.”

I really like teaching, but I regret that in all my different incarnations as teacher, I’ve always felt so constrained by external requirements that don’t match what I have as my idealized concept of what it means to be a good teacher. I don’t work well with those constraints. Other talented teachers are better at somehow sticking within the external constraints and still managing to stay true to their teaching philosophy, but I think maybe I’m too erratic or something, to be able to navegate that difficult path. It’s really the same problem of finding “moderation” or the “middle way” that plagues most aspects of my life. I’m either too much or too little.

[daily log: walking, 6km]

Caveat: Wyrm com snican

Wyrm com snican, toslat he {m}an;
ða genam Woden VIIII wuldortanas,
sloh ða þa næddran, þæt heo on VIIII tofleah.
Þær geændade æppel and attor,
þæt heo næfre ne wolde on hus bugan.

A worm came creeping, he tore a man in two
then Woden took 9 Glory-Twigs,
struck the adder then, that it flew apart into 9 (bits).
There brought about the apple and poison,
that she [the adder] would never enter a house.

– from anonymous "Nine Herbs Charm" 10th-century Anglo-Saxon manuscript Lacugna (prayers and incantations)

[daily log: walking, 8km]

 

Caveat: Difficult Decisions

I have student who goes by the English name of Vona. She is a middle-school student in my TOEFL-style speaking class. A while back, we were trying to answer a question from the book with one of the TOEFL-style 45-second "personal experience" speeches. The prompt was: "Describe the most difficult decision you've had to make in your life." 

These poor 8th graders were at a loss, of course. 8th graders don't like to think about this kind of thing, and most of them are pretty sheltered, anyway, so they haven't had to make a lot of difficult decisions in their lives, so far. Several talked about things like whether to study for some specific major exam, or not, as being their difficult decision.

Vona spoke fairly coherently for 45 seconds, which is an accomplishment for her. What was her most difficult decision?

What to eat at the restaurant. The menu has too many choices.

The thing is… I suspect this may, in fact, be her most difficult decision. Such is life in among the upper middle-class in Seoul's northwestern suburbs.

I regret not having video of this fine speech.

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: Gotta keep on running

What I'm listening to right now.

Dead Kennedys, "Viva Las Vegas (Elvis Presley cover)."

Lyrics.

Twilight City gonna set my soul
It's gonna set my soul on fire
Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn
So get those stakes up high

There's a thousand pretty women waiting out there
They're all waiting, they'll never make air
And I'm just the devil with a lung to spare, so

Viva Las Vegas
Viva Las Vegas
Viva Las Vegas

How I wish that there were more
Than the 24 hours in the day
Even if I ran out of speed, boy
I wouldn't sleep a minute of the way

Oh that blackjack and poker and the roulette wheel
I'll poach your money lost on every deal
All you need is sonar and nerves of steel, so

Viva Las Vegas
Viva Las Vegas
Viva Las Vegas

Viva Las Vegas
Where the neon signs flash your name
The one-arm bandits cash in
All soap's down the drain
Viva Las Vegas
Turning day into nighttime
Turning night into daytime
If you see it once
You'll never be the same again

Gotta keep on running
Gonna have me some money
If it costs me my very last dime
If I wind up broke
Then I'll always remember that
I had a swingin' time

Oh, I'm gonna give it everything I've got
Lady Luck's with me, the dice stay hot
Got coke up my nose to dry away the snot, so

Viva Las Vegas
Viva Las Vegas
Viva Las Vegas
Viva, viva Las Vegas

[daily log: walking, 1km]