"Affection" by Jonathan Richman

Well, people all over the world, people all over the world, people all over the world are starvin' just for affection.
Well, but to me this ain't funny
To me this is real
So I thought I'd tell everybody
How I feel
About affection
I said affection.
Now, you guys, you all know that your friend Jonathan likes to eat food a lot. And I like to do other things, I like to run around, jump, but affection is the most important thing to me. I'd trade everything else in a minute...
You know, I used to starve for affection
I blamed the world, and it could be the world's fault, I suppose
But I was a star of the type who said, "I don't have time for them,"
And the type who says, "I have nothing in common with those."
But then I relaxed a little
And I met more folks who liked me
And they helped me to reach out and give
And that helped me to get more of affection
And that helped me to live.
So I say that people all over the world are good,
People all over the world ain't bad,
But if they keep bein' snobs about it,
They ain't gonna get what they wish they had
And that's affection
Affection.

Well, there's telephones, televisions, and cars, yes
And there's records and books and magazines for you.
But poor affection sits there standing in the corner,
Saying to itself, "I wish someone would give me something to do."
Well, I know it takes nerve to reach out and give affection
To folks who seem to want your touch but you can't tell.
Cause they can laugh at you, and that's rejection,
And you probably won't like that so well.
But I say that people all over the world are good.
People all over the world ain't bad.
But if they keep on chickenin' out,
They won't get what they wish they had
Affection
That's affection
I know they want affection
I know they want affection.

Cataract

I am proud to announce that my second collection of poems is now available at Lulu.com

He Makes Me Laugh

My preoccupation with making Photoshop art continues...

Since Sliced Bread

I woke up with
metal wheels at every joint,
pipe bones to clang on the bedstead,
a metal bucket head and boots,
left hand lost and gentle pincers as a substitute,
a scoop for the right, and a tick-tock heart.
I never imagined a fresh new
start would involve real spark plugs,
but better this bot
than a bug.
Hey, I should download that book...

Inscription

I've posted this photo once before, in my Livejournal. Awhile ago I ordered a used copy of a "A Stone, A Leaf, A Door: Poems" by Thomas Wolfe, and when it arrived by mail I opened it and found this inscription. It asks so many questions--are Edward and Harry (Harriet? Harold?) still around? What sort of person would pass something like this off to a used bookstore? Whatever the story, I would love to know it. It's almost too intimate to display, but at the same time, it's so beautiful I want to immortalize it, share it to the eyes of the world. This is a record of someone's life changing--don't we all long for someone to have such an effect upon us?