Rain and Tears - Aphrodite's Child

(Papathanassiou/Bergman)

Rain and tears are the same
But in the sun you've got to play the game
When you cry in winter time
You can pretend it's nothing but the rain

How many times I've seen
Tears coming from your blue eyes
Rain and tears are the same
But in the sun you've got to play the game

Give me an uncertain love
I need an uncertain love

Rain and tears in the sun
But in your heart you feel the rainbow waves

Rain or tears both are shown
For in my heart there'll never be a sun
Rain and tears are the same
But in the sun you've got to play the game

All I want to do

It was a rainy night when he came into sight
Standing by the road, no umbrella, no coat
So I pulled up along side and I offered him a ride
He accepted with a smile so we drove for a while
I didn't ask him his name, this lonely boy in the rain
Fate tell me it's right, is this love at first sight
Please don't make it wrong, just stay for the night
All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will you want me too
All I wanna do is make love to you
I've got lovin' arms to hold on to
So we found this hotel, it was a place I knew well
We made magic that night. Oh, he did everything right
He brought the woman out of me, so many times, easily
And in the morning when he woke all I left him was a note
I told him I am the flower you are the seed
We walked in the garden we planted a tree
Don't try to find me, please don't you dare
Just live in my memory, you'll always be there

All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All wanna do is make love to you
I've got lovin' arms to hold on to

Oh, oooh, we made love
Love like strangers
All night long
We made love

Then it happened one day, we came round the same way
You can imagine his surprise when he saw his own eyes
I said please, please understand
I'm in love with another man
And what he couldn't give me
was the one little thing that you can

All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All I want to do is make love to you
Come on, say you will, you want me too

All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All I want to do is make love to you
Say you will, you want me too

All night long ...

Black Velvet - Alannah Myles

Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell
Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high
Mama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder
The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky
The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for...

Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet if you please

Up in Memphis the music's like a heatwave
White lightening, bound to drive you wild
Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl
"Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle
The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for...

Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet if you please

Every word of every song that he sang was for you
In a flash he was gone, it happened so soon,
what could you do?

Memento Mori - Jonathan Nolan

"What like a bullet can undeceive!"
—Herman Melville

Your wife always used to say you'd be late for your own funeral. Remember that? Her little joke because you were such a slob—always late, always forgetting stuff, even before the incident.
Right about now you're probably wondering if you were late for hers.
You were there, you can be sure of that. That's what the picture's for—the one tacked to the wall by the door. It's not customary to take pictures at a funeral, but somebody, your doctors, I guess, knew you wouldn't remember. They had it blown up nice and big and stuck it right there, next to the door, so you couldn't help but see it every time you got up to find out where she was.
The guy in the picture, the one with the flowers? That's you. And what are you doing? You're reading the headstone, trying to figure out who's funeral you're at, same as you're reading it now, trying to figure why someone stuck that picture next to your door. But why bother reading something that you won't remember?
She's gone, gone for good, and you must be hurting right now, hearing the news. Believe me, I know how you feel. You're probably a wreck. But give it five minutes, maybe ten. Maybe you can even go a whole half hour before you forget.
But you will forget—I guarantee it. A few more minutes and you'll be heading for the door, looking for her all over again, breaking down when you find the picture. How many times do you have to hear the news before some other part of your body, other than that busted brain of yours, starts to remember?
Never-ending grief, never-ending anger. Useless without direction. Maybe you can't understand what's happened. Can't say I really understand, either. Backwards amnesia. That's what the sign says. CRS disease. Your guess is as good as mine.
Maybe you can't understand what happened to you. But you do remember what happened to HER, don't you? The doctors don't want to talk about it. They won't answer my questions. They don't think it's right for a man in your condition to hear about those things. But you remember enough, don't you? You remember his face.
This is why I'm writing to you. Futile, maybe. I don't know how many times you'll have to read this before you listen to me. I don't even know how long you've been locked up in this room already. Neither do you. But your advantage in forgetting is that you'll forget to write yourself off as a lost cause.
Sooner or later you'll want to do something about it. And when you do, you'll just have to trust me, because I'm the only one who can help you.

EARL OPENS ONE EYE after another to a stretch of white ceiling tiles interrupted by a hand-printed sign taped right above his head, large enough for him to read from the bed. An alarm clock is ringing somewhere. He reads the sign, blinks, reads it again, then takes a look at the room.
It's a white room, overwhelmingly white, from the walls and the curtains to the institutional furniture and the bedspread. The alarm clock is ringing from the white desk under the window with the white curtains. At this point Earl probably notices that he is lying on top of his white comforter. He is already wearing a dressing gown and slippers.
He lies back and reads the sign taped to the ceiling again. It says, in crude block capitals, THIS IS YOUR ROOM. THIS IS A ROOM IN A HOSPITAL. THIS IS WHERE YOU LIVE NOW.
Earl rises and takes a look around. The room is large for a hospital—empty linoleum stretches out from the bed in three directions. Two doors and a window. The view isn't very helpful, either—a close of trees in the center of a carefully manicured piece of turf that terminates in a sliver of two-lane blacktop. The trees, except for the evergreens, are bare—early spring or late fall, one or the other.
Every inch of the desk is covered with Post-it notes, legal pads, neatly printed lists, psychological textbooks, framed pictures. On top of the mess is a half-completed crossword puzzle. The alarm clock is riding a pile of folded newspapers. Earl slaps the snooze button and takes a cigarette from the pack taped to the sleeve of his dressing gown. He pats the empty pockets of his pajamas for a light. He rifles the papers on the desk, looks quickly through the drawers. Eventually he finds a box of kitchen matches taped to the wall next to the window. Another sign is taped just above the box. It says in loud yellow letters, CIGARETTE? CHECK FOR LIT ONES FIRST, STUPID.
Earl laughs at the sign, lights his cigarette, and takes a long draw. Taped to the window in front of him is another piece of looseleaf paper headed YOUR SCHEDULE.
It charts off the hours, every hour, in blocks: 10:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. is labeled go BACK TO SLEEP. Earl consults the alarm clock: 8:15. Given the light outside, it must be morning. He checks his watch: 10:30. He presses the watch to his ear and listens. He gives the watch a wind or two and sets it to match the alarm clock.
According to the schedule, the entire block from 8:00 to 8:30 has been labeled BRUSH YOUR TEETH. Earl laughs again and walks over to the bathroom.
The bathroom window is open. As he flaps his arms to keep warm, he notices the ashtray on the windowsill. A cigarette is perched on the ashtray, burning steadily through a long finger of ash. He frowns, extinguishes the old butt, and replaces it with the new one.
The toothbrush has already been treated to a smudge of white paste. The tap is of the push-button variety—a dose of water with each nudge. Earl pushes the brush into his cheek and fiddles it back and forth while he opens the medicine cabinet. The shelves are stocked with single-serving packages of vitamins, aspirin, antidiuretics. The mouthwash is also single-serving, about a shot-glass-worth of blue liquid in a sealed plastic bottle. Only the toothpaste is regular-sized. Earl spits the paste out of his mouth and replaces it with the mouthwash. As he lays the toothbrush next to the toothpaste, he notices a tiny wedge of paper pinched between the glass shelf and the steel backing of the medicine cabinet. He spits the frothy blue fluid into the sink and nudges for some more water to rinse it down. He closes the medicine cabinet and smiles at his reflection in the mirror.
"Who needs half an hour to brush their teeth?"
The paper has been folded down to a minuscule size with all the precision of a sixth-grader's love note. Earl unfolds it and smooths it against the mirror. It reads—
IF YOU CAN STILL READ THIS, THEN YOU'RE A FUCKING COWARD.
Earl stares blankly at the paper, then reads it again. He turns it over. On the back it reads—
P.S.: AFTER YOU'VE READ THIS, HIDE IT AGAIN.
Earl reads both sides again, then folds the note back down to its original size and tucks it underneath the toothpaste.
Maybe then he notices the scar. It begins just beneath the ear, jagged and thick, and disappears abruptly into his hairline. Earl turns his head and stares out of the corner of his eye to follow the scar's progress. He traces it with a fingertip, then looks back down at the cigarette burning in the ashtray. A thought seizes him and he spins out of the bathroom.

He is caught at the door to his room, one hand on the knob. Two pictures are taped to the wall by the door. Earl's attention is caught first by the MRI, a shiny black frame for four windows into someone's skull. In marker, the picture is labeled YOUR BRAIN. Earl stares at it. Concentric circles in different colors. He can make out the big orbs of his eyes and, behind these, the twin lobes of his brain. Smooth wrinkles, circles, semicircles. But right there in the middle of his head, circled in marker, tunneled in from the back of his neck like a maggot into an apricot, is something different. Deformed, broken, but unmistakable. A dark smudge, the shape of a flower, right there in the middle of his brain.
He bends to look at the other picture. It is a photograph of a man holding flowers, standing over a fresh grave. The man is bent over, reading the headstone. For a moment this looks like a hall of mirrors or the beginnings of a sketch of infinity: the one man bent over, looking at the smaller man, bent over, reading the headstone. Earl looks at the picture for a long time. Maybe he begins to cry. Maybe he just stares silently at the picture. Eventually, he makes his way back to the bed, flops down, seals his eyes shut, tries to sleep.
The cigarette burns steadily away in the bathroom. A circuit in the alarm clock counts down from ten, and it starts ringing again.
Earl opens one eye after another to a stretch of white ceiling tiles, interrupted by a hand-printed sign taped right above his head, large enough for him to read from the bed.

You can't have a normal life anymore. You must know that. How can you have a girlfriend if you can't remember her name? Can't have kids, not unless you want them to grow up with a dad who doesn't recognize them. Sure as hell can't hold down a job. Not too many professions out there that value forgetfulness. Prostitution, maybe. Politics, of course.
No. Your life is over. You're a dead man. The only thing the doctors are hoping to do is teach you to be less of a burden to the orderlies. And they'll probably never let you go home, wherever that would be.
So the question is not "to be or not to be," because you aren't. The question is whether you want to do something about it. Whether revenge matters to you.
It does to most people. For a few weeks, they plot, they scheme, they take measures to get even. But the passage of time is all it takes to erode that initial impulse. Time is theft, isn't that what they say? And time eventually convinces most of us that forgiveness is a virtue. Conveniently, cowardice and forgiveness look identical at a certain distance. Time steals your nerve.
If time and fear aren't enough to dissuade people from their revenge, then there's always authority, softly shaking its head and saying, We understand, but you're the better man for letting it go. For rising above it. For not sinking to their level. And besides, says authority, if you try anything stupid, we'll lock you up in a little room.
But they already put you in a little room, didn't they? Only they don't really lock it or even guard it too carefully because you're a cripple. A corpse. A vegetable who probably wouldn't remember to eat or take a shit if someone wasn't there to remind you.
And as for the passage of time, well, that doesn't really apply to you anymore, does it? Just the same ten minutes, over and over again. So how can you forgive if you can't remember to forget?
You probably were the type to let it go, weren't you? Before. But you're not the man you used to be. Not even half. You're a fraction; you're the ten-minute man.
Of course, weakness is strong. It's the primary impulse. You'd probably prefer to sit in your little room and cry. Live in your finite collection of memories, carefully polishing each one. Half a life set behind glass and pinned to cardboard like a collection of exotic insects. You'd like to live behind that glass, wouldn't you? Preserved in aspic.
You'd like to but you can't, can you? You can't because of the last addition to your collection. The last thing you remember. His face. His face and your wife, looking to you for help.
And maybe this is where you can retire to when it's over. Your little collection. They can lock you back up in another little room and you can live the rest of your life in the past. But only if you've got a little piece of paper in your hand that says you got him.
You know I'm right. You know there's a lot of work to do. It may seem impossible, but I'm sure if we all do our part, we'll figure something out. But you don't have much time. You've only got about ten minutes, in fact. Then it starts all over again. So do something with the time you've got.

EARL OPENS HIS EYES and blinks into the darkness. The alarm clock is ringing. It says 3:20, and the moonlight streaming through the window means it must be the early morning. Earl fumbles for the lamp, almost knocking it over in the process. Incandescent light fills the room, painting the metal furniture yellow, the walls yellow, the bedspread, too. He lies back and looks up at the stretch of yellow ceiling tiles above him, interrupted by a handwritten sign taped to the ceiling. He reads the sign two, maybe three times, then blinks at the room around him.
It is a bare room. Institutional, maybe. There is a desk over by the window. The desk is bare except for the blaring alarm clock. Earl probably notices, at this point, that he is fully clothed. He even has his shoes on under the sheets. He extracts himself from the bed and crosses to the desk. Nothing in the room would suggest that anyone lived there, or ever had, except for the odd scrap of tape stuck here and there to the wall. No pictures, no books, nothing. Through the window, he can see a full moon shining on carefully manicured grass.
Earl slaps the snooze button on the alarm clock and stares a moment at the two keys taped to the back of his hand. He picks at the tape while he searches through the empty drawers. In the left pocket of his jacket, he finds a roll of hundred-dollar bills and a letter sealed in an envelope. He checks the rest of the main room and the bathroom. Bits of tape, cigarette butts. Nothing else.
Earl absentmindedly plays with the lump of scar tissue on his neck and moves back toward the bed. He lies back down and stares up at the ceiling and the sign taped to it. The sign reads, GET UP, GET OUT RIGHT NOW. THESE PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO KILL YOU.
Earl closes his eyes.
They tried to teach you to make lists in grade school, remember? Back when your day planner was the back of your hand. And if your assignments came off in the shower, well, then they didn't get done. No direction, they said. No discipline. So they tried to get you to write it all down somewhere more permanent.
Of course, your grade-school teachers would be laughing their pants wet if they could see you now. Because you've become the exact product of their organizational lessons. Because you can't even take a piss without consulting one of your lists.
They were right. Lists are the only way out of this mess.
Here's the truth: People, even regular people, are never just any one person with one set of attributes. It's not that simple. We're all at the mercy of the limbic system, clouds of electricity drifting through the brain. Every man is broken into twenty-four-hour fractions, and then again within those twenty-four hours. It's a daily pantomime, one man yielding control to the next: a backstage crowded with old hacks clamoring for their turn in the spotlight. Every week, every day. The angry man hands the baton over to the sulking man, and in turn to the sex addict, the introvert, the conversationalist. Every man is a mob, a chain gang of idiots.
This is the tragedy of life. Because for a few minutes of every day, every man becomes a genius. Moments of clarity, insight, whatever you want to call them. The clouds part, the planets get in a neat little line, and everything becomes obvious. I should quit smoking, maybe, or here's how I could make a fast million, or such and such is the key to eternal happiness. That's the miserable truth. For a few moments, the secrets of the universe are opened to us. Life is a cheap parlor trick.
But then the genius, the savant, has to hand over the controls to the next guy down the pike, most likely the guy who just wants to eat potato chips, and insight and brilliance and salvation are all entrusted to a moron or a hedonist or a narcoleptic.
The only way out of this mess, of course, is to take steps to ensure that you control the idiots that you become. To take your chain gang, hand in hand, and lead them. The best way to do this is with a list.
It's like a letter you write to yourself. A master plan, drafted by the guy who can see the light, made with steps simple enough for the rest of the idiots to understand. Follow steps one through one hundred. Repeat as necessary.
Your problem is a little more acute, maybe, but fundamentally the same thing.
It's like that computer thing, the Chinese room. You remember that? One guy sits in a little room, laying down cards with letters written on them in a language he doesn't understand, laying them down one letter at a time in a sequence according to someone else's instructions. The cards are supposed to spell out a joke in Chinese. The guy doesn't speak Chinese, of course. He just follows his instructions.
There are some obvious differences in your situation, of course: You broke out of the room they had you in, so the whole enterprise has to be portable. And the guy giving the instructions—that's you, too, just an earlier version of you. And the joke you're telling, well, it's got a punch line. I just don't think anyone's going to find it very funny.
So that's the idea. All you have to do is follow your instructions. Like climbing a ladder or descending a staircase. One step at a time. Right down the list. Simple.
And the secret, of course, to any list is to keep it in a place where you're bound to see it.
HE CAN HEAR THE BUZZING through his eyelids. Insistent. He reaches out for the alarm clock, but he can't move his arm.
Earl opens his eyes to see a large man bent double over him. The man looks up at him, annoyed, then resumes his work. Earl looks around him. Too dark for a doctor's office.
Then the pain floods his brain, blocking out the other questions. He squirms again, trying to yank his forearm away, the one that feels like it's burning. The arm doesn't move, but the man shoots him another scowl. Earl adjusts himself in the chair to see over the top of the man's head.
The noise and the pain are both coming from a gun in the man's hand—a gun with a needle where the barrel should be. The needle is digging into the fleshy underside of Earl's forearm, leaving a trail of puffy letters behind it.
Earl tries to rearrange himself to get a better view, to read the letters on his arm, but he can't. He lies back and stares at the ceiling.
Eventually the tattoo artist turns off the noise, wipes Earl's forearm with a piece of gauze, and wanders over to the back to dig up a pamphlet describing how to deal with a possible infection. Maybe later he'll tell his wife about this guy and his little note. Maybe his wife will convince him to call the police.
Earl looks down at the arm. The letters are rising up from the skin, weeping a little. They run from just behind the strap of Earl's watch all the way to the inside of his elbow. Earl blinks at the message and reads it again. It says, in careful little capitals, I RAPED AND KILLED YOUR WIFE.

It's your birthday today, so I got you a little present. I would have just bought you a beer, but who knows where that would have ended?
So instead, I got you a bell. I think I may have had to pawn your watch to buy it, but what the hell did you need a watch for, anyway?
You're probably asking yourself, Why a bell? In fact, I'm guessing you're going to be asking yourself that question every time you find it in your pocket. Too many of these letters now. Too many for you to dig back into every time you want to know the answer to some little question.
It's a joke, actually. A practical joke. But think of it this way: I'm not really laughing at you so much as with you.
I'd like to think that every time you take it out of your pocket and wonder, Why do I have this bell? a little part of you, a little piece of your broken brain, will remember and laugh, like I'm laughing now.
Besides, you do know the answer. It was something you learned before. So if you think about it, you'll know.
Back in the old days, people were obsessed with the fear of being buried alive. You remember now? Medical science not being quite what it is today, it wasn't uncommon for people to suddenly wake up in a casket. So rich folks had their coffins outfitted with breathing tubes. Little tubes running up to the mud above so that if someone woke up when they weren't supposed to, they wouldn't run out of oxygen. Now, they must have tested this out and realized that you could shout yourself hoarse through the tube, but it was too narrow to carry much noise. Not enough to attract attention, at least. So a string was run up the tube to a little bell attached to the headstone. If a dead person came back to life, all he had to do was ring his little bell till someone came and dug him up again.
I'm laughing now, picturing you on a bus or maybe in a fast-food restaurant, reaching into your pocket and finding your little bell and wondering to yourself where it came from, why you have it. Maybe you'll even ring it.
Happy birthday, buddy.
I don't know who figured out the solution to our mutual problem, so I don't know whether to congratulate you or me. A bit of a lifestyle change, admittedly, but an elegant solution, nonetheless.
Look to yourself for the answer.
That sounds like something out of a Hallmark card. I don't know when you thought it up, but my hat's off to you. Not that you know what the hell I'm talking about. But, honestly, a real brainstorm. After all, everybody else needs mirrors to remind themselves who they are. You're no different.

THE LITTLE MECHANICAL VOICE PAUSES, then repeats itself. It says, "The time is 8:00 a.m. This is a courtesy call." Earl opens his eyes and replaces the receiver. The phone is perched on a cheap veneer headboard that stretches behind the bed, curves to meet the corner, and ends at the minibar. The TV is still on, blobs of flesh color nattering away at each other. Earl lies back down and is surprised to see himself, older now, tanned, the hair pulling away from his head like solar flares. The mirror on the ceiling is cracked, the silver fading in creases. Earl continues to stare at himself, astonished by what he sees. He is fully dressed, but the clothes are old, threadbare in places.
Earl feels the familiar spot on his left wrist for his watch, but it's gone. He looks down from the mirror to his arm. It is bare and the skin has changed to an even tan, as if he never owned a watch in the first place. The skin is even in color except for the solid black arrow on the inside of Earl's wrist, pointing up his shirtsleeve. He stares at the arrow for a moment. Perhaps he doesn't try to rub it off anymore. He rolls up his sleeve.
The arrow points to a sentence tattooed along Earl's inner arm. Earl reads the sentence once, maybe twice. Another arrow picks up at the beginning of the sentence, points farther up Earl's arm, disappearing under the rolled-up shirtsleeve. He unbuttons his shirt.
Looking down on his chest, he can make out the shapes but cannot bring them into focus, so he looks up at the mirror above him.
The arrow leads up Earl's arm, crosses at the shoulder, and descends onto his upper torso, terminating at a picture of a man's face that occupies most of his chest. The face is that of a large man, balding, with a mustache and a goatee. It is a particular face, but like a police sketch it has a certain unreal quality.
The rest of his upper torso is covered in words, phrases, bits of information, and instructions, all of them written backward on Earl, forward in the mirror.
Eventually Earl sits up, buttons his shirt, and crosses to the desk. He takes out a pen and a piece of notepaper from the desk drawer, sits, and begins to write.

I don't know where you'll be when you read this. I'm not even sure if you'll bother to read this. I guess you don't need to.
It's a shame, really, that you and I will never meet. But, like the song says, "By the time you read this note, I'll be gone."
We're so close now. That's the way it feels. So many pieces put together, spelled out. I guess it's just a matter of time until you find him.
Who knows what we've done to get here? Must be a hell of a story, if only you could remember any of it. I guess it's better that you can't.
I had a thought just now. Maybe you'll find it useful.
Everybody is waiting for the end to come, but what if it already passed us by? What if the final joke of Judgment Day was that it had already come and gone and we were none the wiser? Apocalypse arrives quietly; the chosen are herded off to heaven, and the rest of us, the ones who failed the test, just keep on going, oblivious. Dead already, wandering around long after the gods have stopped keeping score, still optimistic about the future.
I guess if that's true, then it doesn't matter what you do. No expectations. If you can't find him, then it doesn't matter, because nothing matters. And if you do find him, then you can kill him without worrying about the consequences. Because there are no consequences.
That's what I'm thinking about right now, in this scrappy little room. Framed pictures of ships on the wall. I don't know, obviously, but if I had to guess, I'd say we're somewhere up the coast. If you're wondering why your left arm is five shades browner than your right, I don't know what to tell you. I guess we must have been driving for a while. And, no, I don't know what happened to your watch.
And all these keys: I have no idea. Not a one that I recognize. Car keys and house keys and the little fiddly keys for padlocks. What have we been up to?
I wonder if he'll feel stupid when you find him. Tracked down by the ten-minute man. Assassinated by a vegetable.
I'll be gone in a moment. I'll put down the pen, close my eyes, and then you can read this through if you want.
I just wanted you to know that I'm proud of you. No one who matters is left to say it. No one left is going to want to.

EARL'S EYES ARE WIDE OPEN, staring through the window of the car. Smiling eyes. Smiling through the window at the crowd gathering across the street. The crowd gathering around the body in the doorway. The body emptying slowly across the sidewalk and into the storm drain.
A stocky guy, facedown, eyes open. Balding head, goatee. In death, as in police sketches, faces tend to look the same. This is definitely somebody in particular. But really, it could be anybody.
Earl is still smiling at the body as the car pulls away from the curb. The car? Who's to say? Maybe it's a police cruiser. Maybe it's just a taxi.
As the car is swallowed into traffic, Earl's eyes continue to shine out into the night, watching the body until it disappears into a circle of concerned pedestrians. He chuckles to himself as the car continues to make distance between him and the growing crowd.
Earl's smile fades a little. Something has occurred to him. He begins to pat down his pockets; leisurely at first, like a man looking for his keys, then a little more desperately. Maybe his progress is impeded by a set of handcuffs. He begins to empty the contents of his pockets out onto the seat next to him. Some money. A bunch of keys. Scraps of paper.
A round metal lump rolls out of his pocket and slides across the vinyl seat. Earl is frantic now. He hammers at the plastic divider between him and the driver, begging the man for a pen. Perhaps the cabbie doesn't speak much English. Perhaps the cop isn't in the habit of talking to suspects. Either way, the divider between the man in front and the man behind remains closed. A pen is not forthcoming.
The car hits a pothole, and Earl blinks at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He is calm now. The driver makes another corner, and the metal lump slides back over to rest against Earl's leg with a little jingle. He picks it up and looks at it, curious now. It is a little bell. A little metal bell. Inscribed on it are his name and a set of dates. He recognizes the first one: the year in which he was born. But the second date means nothing to him. Nothing at all.
As he turns the bell over in his hands, he notices the empty space on his wrist where his watch used to sit. There is a little arrow there, pointing up his arm. Earl looks at the arrow, then begins to roll up his sleeve.
"You'd be late for your own funeral," she'd say. Remember? The more I think about it, the more trite that seems. What kind of idiot, after all, is in any kind of rush to get to the end of his own story?
And how would I know if I were late, anyway? I don't have a watch anymore. I don't know what we did with it.
What the hell do you need a watch for, anyway? It was an antique. Deadweight tugging at your wrist. Symbol of the old you. The you that believed in time.
No. Scratch that. It's not so much that you've lost your faith in time as that time has lost its faith in you. And who needs it, anyway? Who wants to be one of those saps living in the safety of the future, in the safety of the moment after the moment in which they felt something powerful? Living in the next moment, in which they feel nothing. Crawling down the hands of the clock, away from the people who did unspeakable things to them. Believing the lie that time will heal all wounds—which is just a nice way of saying that time deadens us.
But you're different. You're more perfect. Time is three things for most people, but for you, for us, just one. A singularity. One moment. This moment. Like you're the center of the clock, the axis on which the hands turn. Time moves about you but never moves you. It has lost its ability to affect you. What is it they say? That time is theft? But not for you. Close your eyes and you can start all over again. Conjure up that necessary emotion, fresh as roses.
Time is an absurdity. An abstraction. The only thing that matters is this moment. This moment a million times over. You have to trust me. If this moment is repeated enough, if you keep trying—and you have to keep trying—eventually you will come across the next item on your list.

Memento Mori - Scully's Monologue

For the first time, I feel time like a heartbeat,
the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning;
the numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal
threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth,
but only in its passage.

I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me,
knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other.
That you should know my heart, look into it,
finding there the memory and experience that belong to you,
that are you, is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects
darken for the continuance of a journey that began not long ago,
and which began again with a faith shaken and strengthened by your convictions.
If not for which I might never have been so strong now as I cross to face you and look at you incomplete,
hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you.

Harem - Sarah Brightman

Burning sands winds of desire
Mirrored the waves that reflect a burning fire within my heart
Un-watered, feeding the flame
Welcoming you to my Harem

Sing for me a song of life's visage
Sing for me a tune of love's mirage

In his eyes sleep untold
Whispers that echo the days of all my soul
I hold your Eastern promise close to my heart
Welcoming you to my Harem

Sing for me a song of life's visage
Sing for me a tune of love's mirage

Time is change times will move us now
No escape, the passing sands of time
I hold your Eastern promise close to my heart
Welcoming you to my Harem

So Yesterday

You can change your life- if you wanna
You can change your clothes- if you wanna

If you change your mind
Well, that's the way it goes

But I'm gonna keep your jeans
And your old black hat- cause I wanna
They look good on me
You're never gonna get them back
At least not today, not today, not today
'cause

If it's over, let it go and
Come tomorrow it will seem
So yesterday, so yesterday
I'm just a bird that's already flown away

Laugh it off let it go and
When you wake up it will seem
So yesterday, so yesterday
Haven't you heard that I'm gonna be okay

You can say you're bored- if you wanna
You can act real tough- if you wanna
You can say you're torn
But I've heard enough

Thank you... you made my mind up for me
When you started to ignore me
Do you see a single tear
It isn't gonna happen here
At least not today, not today, not today
'cause

If you're over me, I'm already over you
If it's all been done, what is left to do
How can you hang up if the line is dead
If you wanna walk, I'm a step ahead
If you're moving on, I'm already gone
If the light is off then it isn't on
At least not today, not today, not today
'cause

White Flag - Dido

I know you think that I shouldn't still love you,
I'll tell you that.
But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it
where's the sense in that?

I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder
Or return to where we were

Well I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

I know I left too much mess and
destruction to come back again
And I caused but nothing but trouble
I understand if you can't talk to me again
And if you live by the rules of "it's over"
then I'm sure that that makes sense

Well I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

And when we meet
Which I'm sure we will
All that was then
Will be there still
I'll let it pass
And hold my tongue
And you will think
That I've moved on....

Well I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

Well I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

Well I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

Torn Between Two Lovers - Mary MacGregor

There are times when a woman has to say what's on her mind
Even though she knows how much it's gonna hurt
Before I say another word let me tell you:
I love you
Let me hold you close and say these words as gently as I can
There's been another man that I've needed and I've loved
But that doesn't mean I love you less
And he knows he can't possess me
And he knows he never will
There's just this empty place inside of me
That only he can fill

Torn between two lovers
Feeling like a fool
Loving both of you is breaking all the rules
Torn between two lovers
Feeling like a fool
Loving you both is breaking all the rules.

You mustn't think you failed me
Just because there's someone else
You were the first real love I ever had
And all the things I ever said I swear they still are true
For no one else can have the part of me I gave to you

Torn between two lovers
. . .

I couldn't really blame you if you turned and walked away
But with everything I feel inside I'm asking you to stay

Torn between two lovers

With One Look

With one look I can break your heart
With one look I play every part
I can make your sad heart sing
With one look you'll know all you need to know

With one smile I'm the girl next door
Or the love that you've hungered for
When I speak it's with my soul
I can play any role

No words can tell the stories my eyes tell
Watch me when I frown, you can't write that down
You know I'm right, it's there in black and white
When I look your way, you'll hear what I say

Yes, with one look I put words to shame
Just one look sets the screen aflame
Silent music starts to play
One tear in my eye makes the whole world cry

With one look they'll forgive the past
They'll rejoice I've returned at last
To my people in the dark
Still out there in the dark...

Silent music starts to play
With one look you'll know all you need to know

With one look I'll ignite a blaze
I'll return to my glory days
They'll say, "Norma's back at last!"

This time I am staying, I'm staying for good
I'll be back to where I was born to be
With one look I'll be me!

Move Over Darling - Doris Day

Our lips shouldn’t touch
Move over darling
I like it too much
Move over darling
That gleam in your eyes is no big surprise anymore
Cos you fooled me before

I’m all in a spin
Move over darling
I’ve got to give in
Move over darling
And though it’s not right, I’m too weak to fight it somehow
Cos I want you right now

The way you sigh, has me waving my conscience bye-bye
You can call me a fickle thing
But I’m practically yours forever, because

I yearn to be kissed
Move over darling
How can I resist
Move over darling
You captured my heart, and now that I’m no longer free
Make love to me

The way you sigh
Has me waving my conscience good-bye
You can call me a fickle thing
But I’m practically yours forever, because

I yearn to be kissed
Move over darling
How can I resist
Move over darling
Please give me your love, I’m longing for you
I need all your love, honest I do
You captured my heart and now that I’m no longer free

Make love to me
)x 4
Move over darling


Move over darling )x 2

Angels - Robbie Williams

I sit and wait
Does an angel contemplate my fate
And do they know
The places where we go
When we're grey and old
'Cause I've been told
That salvation lets their wings unfold
So when I'm lying in my bed
Thoughts running through my head
And I feel that love is dead
I'm loving angels instead

And through it all she offers me protection
A lot of love and affection
Whether I'm right or wrong
And down the waterfall
Wherever it may take me
I know that life won't break me
When I come to call she won't forsake me
I'm loving angels instead

When I'm feeling weak
And my pain walks down a one way street
I look above
And I know I'll always be blessed with love
And as the feeling grows
She breathes flesh to my bones
And when love is dead
I'm loving angels instead

And through it all she offers me protection
A lot of love and affection
Whether I'm right or wrong
And down the waterfall
Wherever it may take me
I know that life won't break me
When I come to call she won't forsake me
I'm loving angels instead

The Longest Time - Billy Joel (An Innocent Man)

Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time

If you said goodbye to me tonight
There would still be music left to write
What else could I do
I'm so inspired by you
That hasn't happened for the longest time

Once I thought my innocence was gone
Now I know that happiness goes on
That's where you found me
When you put your arms around me
I haven't been there for the longest time

Oh, oh, oh
For the longest time
Oh, oh, oh
For the longest
I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall
And the greatest miracle of all
Is how I need you
And how you needed me too
That hasn't happened for the longest time

Maybe this won't last very long
But you feel so right
And I could be wrong
Maybe I've been hoping too hard
But I've gone this far
And it's more than I hoped for

Who knows how much further we'll go on
Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone
I'll take my chances
I forgot how nice romance is
I haven't been there for the longest time

I had second thoughts at the start
I said to myself
Hold on to your heart
Now I know the woman that you are
You're wonderful so far
And it's more than I hoped for

I don't care what consequence it brings
I have been a fool for lesser things
I want you so bad
I think you ought to know that
I intend to hold you for the longest time

Swinging on a Star - Johnny Burke, Jimmy Heusen

Would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a mule?

A mule is an animal with long funny ears
Kicks up at anything he hears
His back is brawny but his brain is weak
He's just plain stupid with a stubborn streak
And by the way, if you hate to go to school
You may grow up to be a mule

Or would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a pig?

A pig is an animal with dirt on his face
His shoes are a terrible disgrace
He has no manners when he eats his food
He's fat and lazy and extremely rude
But if you don't care a feather or a fig
You may grow up to be a pig

Or would you like to swing on a star
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
And be better off than you are
Or would you rather be a fish?

A fish won't do anything, but swim in a brook
He can't write his name or read a book
To fool the people is his only thought
And though he's slippery, he still gets caught
But then if that sort of life is what you wish
You may grow up to be a fish
A new kind of jumped-up slippery fish

And all the monkeys aren't in the zoo
Every day you meet quite a few
So you see it's all up to you
You can be better than you are
You could be swingin' on a star

Everything (...Is Never Quite Enough) - Wasis Diop

Moments take so very long: who has time to fear?
Trust to set no precedent; why should it be accompli?
Giving you a little less is taking what I need.
Everything is never quite enough.

Let machinery fake my face: who has time to chase?
Digital is where it is; love can always be replaced.
Welcome to my consciousness - welcome to our race.
Everything is never quite enough.

Can't see my face: what are you thinking?
Fill in the space, please - oh let me hear you…

Sterilize behind these gates, locked behind the green.
Even if I had you here - what we had was never clear
No more words to say to you; no more thoughts appear

Love was taking way too long: who had breath to waste?
Tired of disappointing you; bored with everything I do.
Every day there's less of you. Me, I've been erased.

Recipe - Air Freshening Gel

How to make air freshening gel.

Recipes - Soap

How to make transparent soap.

More instructions using Catherine Failor's book.

Another page of instructions on how to make transparent soap.

Yet more instructions.

A recipe that looks simple, scroll down the page.

Recipe - Superfatting Soap

E. Superfatting soap
The following recipes have the exact amount of lye to make soap that contains very little excess fat. This soap leaves skin perfectly clean and smooth feeling. Some people like excess fat in recipes. For this I recommend 2 to 4 tablespoons castor oil added when the soap traces. Castor oil is emollient and contributes to soap lather. Adding castor oil after tracing along with 1 tablespoon essential oil also seems to help retain the soap fragrance. To superfat with other fats, you can subtract about .2 oz weight lye from one lb batches of soap recipes which allows excess fat to remain.

Recipe - Soap

Soap V - Sorta a traditional and blender soap combination
The fats are expensive, but milk allows for about 12 bars, vs. only 6 bars of the same recipe without milk. Pretty sneaky, huh?
- 8 oz weight cocoa butter
- 5 oz weight palm oil
- 3 oz weight castor oil
- 2.2 oz weight lye (sodium hydroxide)
- 1 cup cold milk (I used 2% right from the frig)
- 1 cup water
- 1 tablespoon essential oil (I added 2 chamomile tea bags and 2 jasmine tea bags, dry)
Fats: 100 degree range
Lye/water/milk combination: 125 degree range
Add the lye/milk/water mixture to the fats and stir about 5 minutes. Add the fragrant oil and put the soap mixture into a blender. Process about 30 seconds, or until the mixture looks smooth and a uniform color. It will not trace. Pour it into the molds (it won't separate, trust me)

List of Special Ingredients used in The Iron Chef

Abalone (Awabi)
Apple (Ringo)
Ara
Asparagus
Avocado
Bacon
Bamboo Shoots
Banana (Banana)
Bean Sprouts (Moyashi)
Beef (Gyuu)
Beef Cheek Meat
Beef Tongue
Bell Pepper (Piman)
Bird's Nest
Black Tiger Prawns
Bok Choy (Chingensai)
Bread (Pan)
Broccoli
Cabbage
Cabbage (Cabbage)
Cabbage, Chinese
Carp (Koi)
Carrot (Ninjin)
Caviar (Caviar)
Caviar, Beluga (Caviar)
Cheese (Cheese)
Chestnut (Buri)
Chicken (Tori)
Chicken, Chinese Imperial (Ron Kon Kai)
Clams, Hamaguri (Hamaguri)
Cod (Tara)
Cod Roe (Tarako)
Cod Soft Roe (Shirako)
Corn
Crab, Giant (Tarabagani)
Crab, Kegani (Kenagigani)
Crab, Matsuba (Matsubagani)
Crab, Shanghai
Crab, Soft Shelled
Crab, Takaashi (Takaashigani)
Crab, Watari (Watarigani)
Crayfish
Cucumber
Curry Powder
Duck
Duck, Wild Hazama Mitsuo Sakai
Eel, Anago Eel, Big (Unagi)
Eel, Conger
Eel, Pike Conger
Eel (Unagi)
Egg (Tamago)
Eggplant, Round (Kamo)
Escargot
Foie Gras (Foie Gras)
Flounder
Frogfish/Angler Fish (Ankou)
Globe Fish (Fugu)
Green Onion (Negi)
Guinea Hen (Horohorocho)
Ham
Ham, Jinhua (aka Kinka Pork)
Honey
Konnyaku (Konnyaku)
Lamb (Kohitsuji)
Leeks (Tamanegi)
Lettuce
Little Neck Clams
Liver (Liver)
Lobster (Homard)
Lobster, Giant (Homard)
Lobster, Spiny
Lotus Root
Mackerel
Mango (Mango)
Melon
Milk (Gyuunyuu)
Mishima Beef
Mochi Rice (Mochi)
Mushrooms
Mushroom, Kinoko (Kinoko)
Mushroom, Large (Ootake)
Mushroom, Maitake (Maitake)
Mushroom, Matsutake (Matsutake)
Mushroom, Porcini (Porcini)
Natto (Fermented Soy Beans) (Natto)
Octopus (Tako) Yoneda Hiromichi Kobe
1000 year old egg (Pidan)
Orange (Orange)
Ostrich
Oxtail
Oyster
Oyster, Asyura
Oyster, Iwa
Pacific Saury (Sanma)
Papaya (Papaya)
Peach (Momo)
Peach
Pear
8 Pen Shell Clam
Pickled Plum (Ume)
Pigeon, European
Pig (Buta)
Pig, Black (Kurobuta)
Pig, Suckling
Pig, Tokyo X
Pike Endo Tokuo
Pike Hiroi
Pineapple
Pork (Buta)
Pork Belly
Potato (Jyagaimo)
Potato
Potato, New (Jyagaimo)
Prawn
Prawn
Pumpkin
Quail
Rabbit, European
Radish, Giant (Daikon)
Red Grouper (Akahata)
Rice (Kome)
Salmon (Salmon)
Salmon, Aramaki
Salmon, Juvenile/Unisex
Salmon Roe (Ikura)
Salted Sea Bream
Sardine/Pilchard
Scallop
Scorpionfish
Sea Bass (Tai)
Sea Cucumber
Sea Urchin (Uni)
Seaweed (Wakame)
Shark's Fin
Short Pasta Hagiwara
Shrimp (Ebi)
Shrimp, Botan (Botanebi)
Shrimp, Freshwater
Shrimp, Mantis (Kuruma Ebi)
Shrimp, Taisho (Taisho Ebi)
Sole
Soybeans
Spanish Mackerel (Sanma)
Spare Ribs
Spinach Mori
Squid
Squid, Aori (Aoriika)
Squid/Cuttlefish, Dried (Ika)
Stingray (Ei)
Strawberry
Sturgeon (Chouzame)
Sushi Fixings (Sushi)
Sweetfish (Ayu)
Sweet Potato (Satsuimo)
Taro (Taro)
Tofu (Tofu)
Tomato (Tomato)
Truffle (Truffle)
Tuna (Maguro)
Tuna (Bonito)
Tuna, Fatty (Maguro)
Tuna, Kajiki
Tuna, Managatsuo (Managatsuo)
Turkey
Turnip
Udon Noodles (Udon)
Veal
Venison
Watermelon
Wheat
Wheat Noodles (Soba)
Wine (Wine)
Winter Melon
Yam
Yellowtail (Buri)
Yogurt (Yogurt)

Supreme - Robbie Williams

Oh it seemed forever stopped today
All the lonely hearts in London
Caught a plane and flew away
And all the best women are married
All the handsome men are gay
You feel deprived

Yeah are you questioning your size?
Is there a tumour in your humour,
Are there bags under your eyes?
Do you leave dents where you sit,
Are you getting on a bit?
Will you survive
You must survive

When there's no love in town
This new century keeps bringing you down
All the places you have been
Trying to find a love supreme
A love supreme

Oh what are you really looking for?
Another partner in your life to
abuse and to adore?
Is it lovey dovey stuff,
Do you need a bit of rough?
Get on your knees

Yeah turn down the love songs that you hear
'Cause you can't avoid the sentiment
That echoes in your ear
Saying love will stop the pain
Saying love will kill the fear
Do you believe
You must believe
When there's no love in town
This new century keeps bringing you down
All the places you have been
Trying to find a love supreme
A love supreme

I spy with my little eye
Something beginning with (ah)
Got my back up
And now she's screaming
So I've got to turn the track up
Sit back and watch the royalties stack up
I know this girl she likes to switch teams
And I'm a fiend but I'm living for a love supreme

When there's no love in town
This new century keeps bringing you down
All the places you have been
Trying to find a love supreme
A love supreme

Come and live a love supreme
Don't let it get you down
Everybody lives for love

The Look of Love

The look of love
Is in your eyes
The look your smile can't disguise
The look of love
Is saying so much more
Than just words could ever say
And what my heart has heard
Well it takes my breath away

I can hardly wait to hold you
Feel my arms around you
How long I have waited
Waited just to love you
Now that I have found you

You've got the look of love
It's on your face
A look that time can't erase
Be mine tonight
Let this be just the start
Of so many nights like this
Let's take a lover's vow
And then seal it with a kiss

I can hardly wait to hold you
Feel my arms around you
How long I have waited
Waited just to love you
Now that I have found you
Don't ever go
Don’t ever go
I love you so

I can hardly wait to hold you
Feel my arms around you
How long I have waited
Waited just to love you
Now that I have found you
Don't ever go
Don't ever go
Don’t ever go

Porcelain - Moby

In my dreams I'm dying all the time
As I wake its kaleidoscopic mind
I never meant to hurt you
I never meant to lie
So this is goodbye
This is goodbye

Tell the truth you never wanted me
Tell me

In my dreams I'm jealous all the time
As I wake I'm going out of my mind
Going out of my mind

Blackbird - Sarah McLachlan

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All you life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night
Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds - Lennon and McCartney

1967-1970 Lennon & McCartney

PICTURE YOURSELF IN A BOAT ON A RIVER
WITH TANGERINE TREES AND MARMALADE SKIES.
SOMEBODY CALLS YOU, YOU ANSWER QUITE SLOWLY,
A GIRL WITH KALEIDOSCOPE EYES.

CELLOPHANE FLOWERS OF YELLOW AND GREEN
TOWERING OVER YOUR HEAD.
LOOK FOR THE GIRL WITH THE SUN IN HER EYES
AND SHE'S GONE.

LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
AH ---

FOLLOW HER DOWN TO A BRIDGE BY A FOUNTAIN,
WHERE ROCKING HORSE PEOPLE EAT MARSHMALLOW PIES.
EV´RYONE SMILES AS YOU DRIFT PAST THE FLOWERS
THAT GROW SO INCREDIBLY HIGH.

NEWSPAPER TAXIS APPEAR ON THE SHORE
WAITING TO TAKE YOU AWAY.
CLIMB IN THE BACK WITH YOUR HEAD IN THE CLOUDS
AND YOU'RE GONE.

LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
AH ---

PICTURE YOURSELF ON A TRAIN IN A STATION
WITH PLASTICINE PORTERS WITH LOOKING GLASS TIES.
SUDDENLY SOMEONE IS THERE AT THE TURNSTILE,
THE GIRL WITH KALEIDOSCOPE EYES.

LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
AH ---

LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
AH ---

LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS, OH,
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS,


© Northern Songs Ltd

I love you for sentimental reasons

I love you for sentimental reasons
I hope you do believe me, I give you my heart.
I love you, and you alone were meant for me,
Please give your loving heart to me, and say we'll never part.

I think of you every morning, dream of you every night.
Darling, I'm never lonely whenever you're in sight.

I love you, for sentimental reasons,
I hope you do believe me
I've given you my heart.

I Know Him So Well

Nothing is so good it lasts eternally
Perfect situations must go wrong
But this has never yet prevented me
From wanting far too much for far too long
Looking back
I could have done it differently
Won a few more moments
who can tell?
But it took time to understand the man
Now at least I know
I know him well

Wasn't it good
Wasn't it fine
Isn't it madness he can't be mine
But in the end
he needs a little more than before
Security
he needs his fantasy and freedom
I know him so well

No one in your life is with you constantly
No one is completely on your side
And though I move my world to be with him

Still the gap between us is too wide
Looking back
I could have played it differently
Learned about the man before I fell
But I was ever so much younger then

Wasn't it good (oh so good)
Wasn't it fine (so fine)
Isn't it madness he can't be mine

Didn't I know how it would go
If I knew from the start
Why am I falling apart

Wasn't it fine
Isn't it madness he can't be mine
But in the end
he needs a little more than before
Security
he needs his fantasy and freedom
I know him so well
It took some to understand him
I know him so well

I'd be surprisingly good for you

lyrics by Tim Rice, music by Andrew Lloyd Webber

(Eva and Peron:)
I've heard so much about you

(Eva and Peron:)
I'm amazed, for I'm only an actress [a soldier]
Nothing to shout about [One of the thousands]
Only a girl on the air [Defending the country he loves]

(Eva:)
But when you act, the things you do affect us all

(Peron:)
But when you act, you take us away from the squalor of the real world
Are you here on your own?

(Eva:)
Yes, oh yes

(Peron:)
So am I, what a fortunate coincidence
Maybe you're my reward for my efforts here tonight

(Eva:)
It seems crazy but you must believe
There's nothing calculated, nothing planned
Please forgive me if I seem naive
I would never want to force your hand
But please understand, I'd be good for you

I don't always rush in like this
Twenty seconds after saying hello
Telling strangers I'm too good to miss
If I'm wrong I hope you'll tell me so
But you really should know, I'd be good for you
I'd be surprisingly good for you

I won't go on if I'm boring you
But do you understand my point of view?
Do you like what you hear, what you see
And would you be, good for me too?

I'm not talking of a hurried night
A frantic tumble then a shy goodbye
Creeping home before it gets too light
That's not the reason that I caught your eye
Which has to imply, I'd be good for you
I'd be surprisingly good for you

(Peron:)
Please go on, you enthrall me
I can understand you perfectly
And I like what I hear, what I see, and knowing me
I would be good for you too

(Eva:)
I'm not talking of a hurried night
A frantic tumble then a shy goodbye
Creeping home before it gets too light
That's not the reason that I caught your eye
Which has to imply, I'd be good for you
I'd be surprisingly good for you

I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face

Words and Music by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe
from the Broadway musical "My Fair Lady"

I've grown accustomed to her face
She almost makes the day begin
I've grown accustomed to the tune she whistles night and noon
Her smiles, her frowns, her ups, her downs

Are second nature to me now
Like breathing out and breathing in
I was serenely independent and content before we met
Surely I could always be that way again and yet
I've grown accustomed to her looks, accustomed to her voice
Accustomed to her face

I'm very grateful she's a woman and so easy to forget
Rather like a habit one can always break and yet
I've grown accustomed to the trace of something in the air
Accustomed to her face

Another Suitcase In Another Hall

(Eva:)
I don't expect my love affairs to last for long
Never fool myself that my dreams will come true
Being used to trouble I anticipate it
But all the same I hate it, wouldn't you?

Chorus:

(Eva:) So what happens now?
(Che:) Another suitcase in another hall
(Eva:) So what happens now?
(Che:) Take your picture off another wall
(Eva:) Where am I going to?
(Che:) You'll get by, you always have before
(Eva:) Where am I going to?

Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through
But every time it matters all my words desert me
So anyone can hurt me, and they do

(chorus)

Call in three months time and I'll be fine, I know
Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion
But that's no consolation here and now.

(Huevo:)
Don't ask anymore.

Better man
Robbie Williams

Send someone to love me, I need to rest in arms
Keep me safe from harm in pouring rain
Give me endless summer, Lord I fear the cold
Feel I'm getting old before my time

As my soul heals the shame, I will grow through this pain
Lord I'm doing all I can to be a better man

Go easy on my conscience 'cause it's not my fault
I know I've been taught to take the blame
Rest assured my angels will catch my tears
Walk me out of here I'm in pain

Once you've found that lover you're homeward bound
Love is all around, Love is all around
I know some have fallen on stony ground
But Love is all around

Help Me Make It Through The Night

Take the ribbon from my hair Shake it loose and let it fall
Lay in soft upon my skin Like the shadows on the wall
Come and lay down by my side Till the early morning light
All I'm asking is your time Help me make it through the night

I don't care who's right or wrong I don't try to understand
Let the devil take tomorrow Lord tonight I need a friend

Yesterday is dead and gone And tomorrow's out of sight
And it's sad to be alone Help me make it through the night

And it's sad to be alone
Help me make it through the night

Beauty School Dropout
Frankie Avalon

Your story sad to tell
A teenage ne'er do well
Most mixed up non-delinquent on the block

Your futures so unclear now
What's left of your career now
Can't even get a trade in on your smock
Beauty school dropout
No graduation day for you
Beauty school dropout
Missed your mid-terms and flunked shampoo
Well at least you could have taken time to wash and clean your clothes up
After spending all that dough to have the doctor fix you nose up

Baby get moving (Better get movin)
Why keep your feeble hopes alive
What are you proving (What are you provin)
You've got the dream but not the drive

If you go for your diploma you could join the steno pool
Turn in your teasin' comb and go back to high school

Beauty school dropout (Beauty school dropout)
Hanging around the corner store
Beauty school dropout (Beauty school dropout)
It's about time you knew the score

Well they couldn't teach you anything you think you're such a looker
But no customer would go to you unless she was a hooker

Baby don't sweat it (Don't sweat it)
You're not cut out to hold a job
Better forget it (Forget it)
Who wants their hair done by a slob?

Now your bangs are curled your lashes twirled but still the world is cruel
Wipe off that angel face and go back to high school

Baby don't blow it
Don't put my good advice to shame
Baby you know it
Even dear Abby'd say the same

Now I've called the shot, get off the pot, I really gotta fly
Gotta be going to that malt shop in the sky

Beauty school dropout (Beauty school dropout)
Go back to high school
Beauty school dropout (Beauty school dropout)
Go back to high school
Beauty school dropout (Beauty school dropout)
Go back to high school

I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair

[Mitzi]
I'm gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
I'm gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
I'm gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
And send him on his way.

I'm gonna wave that man right outa my arms.

[Mitzi and Chorus]
I'm gonna wave that man right outa my arms,
I'm gonna wave that man right outa my arms,
And send him on his way.

Don't try to patch it up.

[Chorus]
Tear it up, tear it up!

[Mitzi]
Wash him out, dry him out.

[Chorus]
Push him out, fly him out.

[Mitzi]
Cancel him and let him go!

[Chorus]
Yeah, sister!

[Mitzi]
I'm gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
I'm gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
I'm gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
And send him on his way.

If a man don't understand you,
If you fly on separate beams,
Waste no time, make a change,
Ride that man right off your range.
Rub him out of the roll call,
And drum him out of your dreams.

[Chorus]
Oho! If you laugh at different comics,
If you root for different teams,
Waste no time, weep no more,
Show him what the door is for.
Rub him out of the roll call,
And drum him out of your dreams.

[Mitzi]
You can't light a fire when the wood is wet.

[Chorus]
No!

[Mitzi}
You can't make a butterfly strong.

[Chorus]
Hmm, hmm!

[Mitzi]
You can't fix an egg when it ain't quite good.

[Chorus]
And you can't fix a man when he's wrong!

[Mitzi]
You can't put back a petal when it falls from a flower,
Or sweeten up a fellow when he starts turnin' sour.

[Chorus]
Oh no! Oh no!

[Mitzi and Chorus]
If his eyes get dull and fishy,
When you look for glints and gleams,
Waste no time,
Make a switch,
Drop him in the nearest ditch!
Rub him out of the roll call,
And drum him out of your dreams.
Oho! Oho!

[Mitzi]
I went to wash that man right outa my hair,
I went to wash that man right outa my hair,
I went to wash that man right outa my hair,
And sent him on his way.

[Chorus]
She went to wash that man right outa her hair,
She went to wash that man right outa her hair,
She went to wash that man right outa her hair,

[Mitzi and Chorus]
And sent him on his way!

Rainbow High
(Evita)

(Eva:)
There again I've more to do
Than simply get the message through
I haven't started
Let's get this show on the road
Let's make it obvious
Peron is off and rolling

Chorus:

(Eva's dressers:)
Eyes, hair, mouth, figure
Dress, voice, style, movement
Hands, magic, rings, glamour
Face, diamonds, excitement, image

(Eva:)
I came from the people, they need to adore me
So Christian Dior me from my head to my toes
I need to be dazzling, I want to be Rainbow High
They must have excitement, and so must I

(Eva's dressers:)
Eyes, hair, mouth, figure
Dress, voice, style, image

(Eva:)
I'm their product, it's vital you sell me
So Machiavell me, make an Argentine Rose
I need to be thrilling, I want to be Rainbow High
They need their escape, and so do I

(chorus)

(Eva:)
All my descamisados expect me to outshine the enemy
I won't disappoint them
I'm their savior, that's what they call me
So Lauren Bacall me, anything goes
To make me fantastic, I have to be Rainbow High
In magical colors

You're not decorating a girl for a night on the town
And I'm not a second-rate queen getting kicks with a crown

Next stop will be Europe
The Rainbow's gonna tour, dressed up, somewhere to go
We'll put on a show

Look out, mighty Europe
Because you oughta know whatcha gonna get in me
Just a little touch of
Just a little touch of
Argentina's brand of star quality

High Noon

Do not forsake me oh my darlin'
On this our wedding day
Do not forsake me oh my darlin'
Wait, wait along
I do not know what fate awaits me
I only know I must be brave
And I must face a man who hates me
Or lie a coward, a craven coward
Or lie a coward in my grave
Oh to be turned 'twixt love and duty
'Sposin' I lose my fair haired beauty
Look at that big hand move along
Near in high noon
He made a vow while in State's prison
Vowed it would be my life or his
I'm not afraid of death but, oh
What will I do if you leave me
Do not forsake me oh my darlin'
You made that promise as a bride
Do not forsake me oh my darlin'
Although you're grievin'
Don't think of leavin'
Now that I need you by my side
Wait along, wait along

Le Tango De Roxanne
Jose Feliciano

Will drive you!
Will drive you!
Will drive you!
Mad!

Roxanne
You don't have to put on that red light
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right
Roxanne
You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Roxanne
You don't have to sell your body to the night

His eyes upon your face
His hand upon your hand
His lips caress your skin
It's more than I can stand!

Why does my heart cry?
Feelings I can't fight!
You're free to leave me but
Just don't deceive me!
...And please believe me when I say
I love you!

Roxanne
You don't have to put on that red light!
You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Roxanne
You don't have to put on that red light
Roxanne
You don't have to wear that dress tonight!
Roxanne

Why does my heart cry?
Feelings I can't fight!
Roxanne
I love you!

Blue Velvet
Bobby Vinton

She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet were her eyes
Warmer than May her tender sighs
Love was ours
Ours a love I held tightly
Feeling the rapture grow
Like a flame burning brightly
But when she left, gone was the glow of
Blue velvet
But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm, a memory
Through the years
And I still can see blue velvet
Through my tears

Portishead
Dummy (1994)
Sour Times

To pretend no one can find
The fallacies of morning rose
Forbidden fruit, hidden eyes
Curtises that I despise in me
Take a ride, take a shot now

Cos nobody loves me
Its true
Not like you do

Covered by the blind belief
That fantasies of sinful screens
Bear the facts, assume the dye
End the vows no need to lie, enjoy
Take a ride, take a shot now

Cos nobody loves me
Its true
Not like you do

Who oo am I, what and why
Cos all I have left is my memories of yesterday
Ohh these sour times

Cos nobody loves me
Its true
Not like you do

After time the bitter taste
Of innocence decent or race
Scattered seeds, buried lives
Mysteries of our disguise revolve
Circumstance will decide ....

Cos nobody loves me
Its true
Not like you do

Cos nobody loves me
Its true
Not like you
Nobody loves.. me
Its true
Not, like, you.. do

Silicone
Mono

So many times I try to make you understand
You never tried to see behind my smile

If I didn’t know you like I do
I’d get you into the secret in me
Just because I’m good at fooling you
When no one’s around I walk in your shoes

I’m smiling, while lying to you
I’m smiling, while lying to you
If you only knew

I always try to hide behind a painted smile
So many tears the public never see

If I didn’t know you like I do
I’ll get you into the secret in me
Just because I'm good at fooling you
When no one’s around I walk in your shoes

I’m smiling, while lying to you
I’m smiling, while lying to you
When it always seems true

I’m smiling, while lying to you
I’m smiling, while lying to you
If you only knew

I’m smiling, while lying to you
I’m smiling, while lying to you
If you only knew

I’m smiling, while lying to you
I’m smiling, while lying to you
If you only knew

BENGAWAN SOLO (SOLO RIVER)
Gesang

Bengawan Solo Solo river
Riwayatmu ini Your personal history
Sedari dulu jadi Has been subjected from days old
Perhatian insani To keen observation

Musim kemarau At dry season
Tak brapa airmu Not much water is in you
Dimusim hujan air At rain season
Meluap sampai jauh Your waters flood over to yonder

Mata airmu dari Solo Your well springs in Solo
Terkurung gunung seribu Surrounded by Mts. 1000
Air mengalir sampai jauh Your water flows reaching far
Akhirnya kelaut To end in the sea

Itu perahu That's a boat
Riwatyatmu dulu This is your past history
Kaum pedagang slalu The merchant class always
Naik itu perahu Board on that boat

Like A Hurricane
Neil Young

Once I thought I saw you in a crowded hazy bar,
Dancing on the light from star to star.
Far across the moonbeam I know that's who you are,
I saw your brown eyes turning once to fire.
You are like a hurricane
There's calm in your eye.
And I'm gettin' blown away
Somewhere safer where the feeling stays.
I want to love you but I get so blown away.
I am just a dreamer, and you are just a dream,
You could have been anyone to me.
Before that moment you touched my lips
That moment when time just slips away,
Between us on our foggy trip.
You are like a hurricane
There's calm in your eye.
And I'm gettin' blown away
To somewhere safer where the feeling stays.
I want to love you but I get so blown away.
Yeah yeah, hi hi, yeah, blown away
Yeah yeah, hi hi, yeah.
I am just a dreamer, and you are just a dream,
You could have been anyone to me.
Before that moment you touched my lips
That moment when time just slips away,
Between us on our foggy trip.
You are like a hurricane
There's calm in your eye.
And I'm gettin' blown away
To somewhere safer where the feeling stays.
I want to love you but I get so blown away.