Monday, June 30, 2008

My Twenty-First Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

An addendum to the previous. PETA responds not to my passion, infuriation and determination, as such, I have chosen instead to become a more OFFICIAL breed of Bohemian and set the accordances accordingly to hear back in due time. Genevieve on our walk recommended I make further use of the telephone in proper acknowledgement, rather than e-mails which garden no responses. Should this be done? The expenses are great as are the night-high nerves. To the future!


My Twentieth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

If nothing else: an aniversary!!!!! We have been together for a full twenty which is twice ten and a fine celebration indeed.

However, my life is a deep grey fringed denomination. New directions and new colours are welcomed necessarily with a fernacious piece of lending.

Today my sister Genevieve, who makes prints, took me for a stroll among the countryside of our neighbourhood street. We discussed strange objects of desire and delight. She is concerned for many of my safeties which is a distinct matter of amusement concern. She prefers that I would continue to live beside and alongside my mother rather than in her printmaking studio apartment. This is an infeasibility. I am at home with Genevieve, or, in the French, John V. Eff (LOL) and I suspect she desires for a man friend of hers to enter living quarters. Unless that man is David Tennant: no.

I recieved a frowning cryptic e-mail in my inbox today from meding, as follows (the subject line bore fantastically: Megan Fox spotted topless in Santorini):
Your gun is set to get bigger and bigger

I was recommended so as not to click the link, but I am mythfully consumed with deprecation at this juncture. The RSC has not responded currently and perhaps this is an attempt to get through? A. Shakespear is known to write with coda and muddled, perhaps this was his method of notification regarding my role?

To twenty more my love and sanctification, your friend,

Saturday, June 28, 2008

My Nineteenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

I don't understand where my intuitivity naive has gone!!! I used to be so responsible in my endeavours but unfortunately I do not succeed at the present time!

No response from Carnegie Hall as to my concert (just as well due to my current disinterest in the field, I suppose they heard through word-of-mouth that I was no longer available), no response from PETA as to my advantageousness, and no response from the RSC in regards to my upcoming role!

Where is the respect I once had? There is something I must rant in accordance for.

Simply because I abandoned the Poet Laureate career does not make me a person who is not respectable. It was not a field for me, as there are many fields, of wheat, of hayhair, of cotton, of jocularity and of water, there are so many fields and this could not possibly have been mine. This means I am in need of a new and greener field of pasture and here, here there is none to be found!

I must be allowed to be free and I shall be released. It is only a matter of time. I am in need of more precipitates to contact. Suggestions would be highly welcomed as those seems to be in short supply recieve.

Yours to my heart in the affections of my still well bitter blood,
Jonas Rudolf Dickinson

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

My Eighteenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

Meat is murder!

I am much dissuaged by depressionary unresponse, from Carnegie Hall, the Facebook, and otherwise. It seems that only a deeper appreciate insight is to follow. The likes of the greats found themselves likewise swarthed in sadness, and therefore, I have made the decision to become Bohemian. This entrails many aspects highly inclined to further my many artistic endeavours, and leave my pages of my book open to new mythologies.

As such there are two main conglomorates: mime and activism. Both of which I will endorse to those who simply miss or lack the understanding of my prodigal.

My first establishment lies far off lands. It beckons me forward to paint a photoless picture of the world. I intend to star alongside David Tennant as Hamlet in Arnold Shakespear's renowned play, Hamlet. Perhaps we shall indeed strike up the band that leads to friendship, no? I have read the script and found all of my moments to shine and am much prepared, although the play is not very good. The language is off the charts in regards to the use of language. There is such a thing as taking malleability too far! LOL!

However, I believe this shall be a tremendous learning. David Tennant is for par, but not undoubtedly lacking in fine industry establishment.

And initially, I have been continuing to attend my therapeutic appointments at the behest of my familiality. They consider the works of She (as I will refer to my attending, for reasons of confiality) as highly important to the logical development of my continued success. Sadly, she simply does not grasp the swirling gravitas galaxy of art. The impetus just rolls of her back like a duck off water. As such, research of She is perhaps no longer imminent, and I must discuss the rage I express towards the status quo in the following paragraph.

There is not a necessary grasp for any to follow my thunderous agression! We MUST band together and eliminate war! As well, it is evocative of us to pre vent, and nurture forwards against the destruction of Engendered Animals! They are everywhere, and therefore an issue of import! Why isn't anybody listening? Why must my cries be sat alone?

I weep to the world, and demand a response. E-mail me! I am considerate of your thoughts!

Yours in love, peace, foreboding and effervescence,
Jonas Rudolf Dickinson

P.S. Perhaps those of senior parlimental or senatorial positions who frequently frequent on my Blog would do to have a discourse.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

My Seventeenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

It has been many moons since the day I last prohibited my poetry upon your being. In honour of that, here is a new one I aspired to while dreaming days on the bus this fine young morning. I have been working greatly to improve my work, greatly in the highest expense, and therefore have improved affordingly.

From poet to infinity,
Like the celestial bosom
Of DeMille's last strenuous
Sessions with Hercules, the might
The break, heart, Sysyphian push
Cystalline in the defenceless winter
And a wither of a lamb, small
Limited in number, as an eaten veal
Would struggle towards the light.

Pulling, pushing, the womb
Can stretch your finest, fiercest hour
So definist, never let them swagger
and climactically would fall
towards the discotheque (metaphorical)
Phosphorous Of Ages.

In other news, I long for a vocation. Life is much and many, and I am few with suffering. I have been looking into many places quite warm, and others very cold. I have not decided as of late.


Monday, June 16, 2008

My Sixteenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

Today, as of late, please take specific notice of my new cultural symbol. Persephone, of Persephone Magazine recently brought it up to my attentiveness that perhaps it is not undue with care for me to acknowledge my uninterrupted flow of ceaseful admiration for the fondly remembered LittleRadge. I wish not to beteem him with terrible anecdotes, merely as a goodly gesture for his entertainment philosophy (a new divergence!?)

As for to that, I have taken it upon the back to repeat my infractive-state with lesser stance. I maintain a politic notion of decisive indifference to his formation, but do hope he will refrain from further quick-throat endeavourances. I would only accept that he ado my gentle qualms, and seeming wonder. He is a tomato to my adamant glee.

Furtherance, I am at liberty to bring you around to my great revealing.

I have been studying the quantitative works of simple Professor William McGonagall. He is indeed full of stately stature. The temperance he delivers on the forests of Green-land are with all might. I please do advise that one follow the path that dwindles like the light of a fire-bug's radiant, to frequent his sights. You may indulge in his homeplace of . It is indeed a noble spire that deceases beyond his grave.

I feel that perhaps in my own body, Professor McGonagall gave great scope as serving of the position of United States Poet Laureate. I know that my own talent rises through the ashes. This is why I must err cautiously but with refrain of poet and direct my many strengths to my imminent career as Singer/Songwriter and perhaps Researcher.

This is that same one Researcher which I will evidence in follow courses.

That is all.

Love to many, one and all,
Jonas R. Dickinson

Sunday, June 15, 2008

My Fifteenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

First as a mention, I must skip the entry one three due to superstition, like a building of importunacy.

Second, a matter of utmost disenfranchised meant.

Since my stint as United States Poet Laureate I find my thoughts, patterns, and worldly verbosity becoming increasingly unintelligibly defined. I was divested of words which now spin about my crainial cavity in patterns so unforseeable as to be rendered capricious. In summation, I am prone to the cavernous form of gibberish I now complete. Where is the structure my life once bore strongly upon the camel's back? Am I even in a legible range?

Recently, I was requested upon the whisk of my sister, Genevieve, who makes altered prints of natural dilemmas, to attend a session of therapeautic discussion. In the beginning I was unfortunately uninterested but I have found the silver light at the cloud's end.

It is in many recompenses that a fine discovery of psychiatry may suffer in severe cognitive problems. As you can see, these therapists do find. In discussing with a speaker I may discover new and cranial realms. I am up for a Nobel Prize in this respect (not yet LOL) and wish to discover more.

Cheers and wish me luck in this new and cost-expensive endeavour!

Jonas R. Dickinson

P.S. No response as of yet from my managers and producers at Carnegie Hall. Sadly, I am on tenterhooks. Perhaps Monday shall make my day!

Saturday, June 14, 2008

My Twelfth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

As of yet no reply from my manager at Carnegie Hall regarding my sold-out series of shows as a singer-songwriter. Perhaps later in the week I will hazard a phone call as the method of e-mail inspires unworthiness. Here is a transcript of the e-mail. If you have any suggestions for my attemptation, please inform me of such and I shall re-send the piece in order for optimum singer-songwriter.

Here is my portion of the correspondance so far.

From: Jonas Dickinson
Sent: June 13, 2008 10:06:12 AM

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Jonas R. Dickinson and I am a popular Singer-Songwriter, the R. stands for Rudolf, who has written a total of seven complete and beautiful songs of varying genres. I was Poet Laureate of the United States of America for some time. I was wondering if your fine Hall would adapt to my running of one week, of perhaps more when the tickets sell too swiftly, of musical shows as a Singer-Songwriter. Simply contact me if this will be the unvarying infallible case.

Thank you very much for your scintillation,
Jonas R. Dickinson

That is my portion of the correspondance.

In other news I have become a Facebook in recent times and am attempting to garner many friends in order to boost my popularity as a singer-songwriter. If you would like to be my friend, simply become friendly with me.


Friday, June 13, 2008

My Eleventh Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

Alack (LOL)!!!

I am happy in career and unhappy in an essential variety of garden love!

I have discovered a fond remembrance visage inside the Him and I must become great friends, how ever, he disregards my advantages with a batted eye and a swift un-hello. Today even did I discover that he has BLOCKED me on a popular web-site he sometimes frequents: Oh, how the red explanation came behind my tears, that I may not be emailed in regards to his most recent expositions due to his cruelty!

I do not respond well in the light of cruelty. In my childhood, my young sister, Genevieve, was quite harsh with me in many situations, even going so far as to bring her hand collusively to the side of my back head! LOL! Though it was not so funny at the times!

Liam Dryden, you have sadly beaten my head furiously! Please recognise that I come in peace!!!

However in my career as Singer/Songwriter I find that I am advancing in a manner similar to what is appropriate. I am learning how to perform the actions necessary. We will see. I intend to email Carnegie Hall as soon as possible in regards to a booking situations.

On love, in calamity,
Jonas R. Dickinson

Monday, June 9, 2008

My Tenth Blog Entry

It appears I have been asked to contribute to the Persephone Magazine's original album with seven songs that I have been greatly appreciating this season, like the fine threads of a wayworn gossamer windy bulk. The following are poems set to a music you hear in your dreams my child.

1. I Propose by Jonas R. Dickinson (genre: country)
Well, lick my toes and salt my hair
Find my ticks ah way out there,
In finding you, we'll find what's true
You and me together like glue.
You and me I do propose
And the finding of a marriage in a lifelong hose.
As lifelong,
As Lifelong,
I propose.
I was alone till I picked up the phone
I called that number after the tone
I gave my adress and PIN number too
And in doing so gave my love to you.
You and me I do propose
You I would never ever want to lose
As lifelong,
As Lifelong,
I propose.

2. Cover of "Mr. Blue Sky" by Jonas R. Dickinson & friends (genre: popular)
Sun is shinin' in the sky
There ain't a cloud in sight
It's stopped rainin' ev'rybody's in a play
And don't you know
It's a beautiful new day hey,hey

Runnin' down the avenue
See how the sun shines brightly in the city
On the streets where once was pity
Mister blue sky is living here today hey, hey

Mister blue sky please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long
Where did we go wrong?

Hey you with the pretty face
Welcome to the human race
A celebration, mister blue sky's up there waitin'
And today is the day we've waited for

Hey there mister blue
We're so pleased to be with you
Look around see what you do
Ev'rybody smiles at you

Mister blue sky, mister blue sky
Mister blue sky

Mister blue, you did it right
But soon comes mister night creepin' over
Now his hand is on your shoulder
Never mind I'll remember you this
I'll remember you this way

Mister blue sky please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long
Where did we go wrong?

Hey there mister blue
We're so pleased to be with you
Look around see what you do
Ev'rybody smiles at you
Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba
Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba

3. Give My Love A Sweepstake by Jonas R. Dickinson (genre: Debussyesque)
Scratching cards on a Sunday night
Given the love a heart of flight
The bingo tunes flush out mine ear
Find the cost, the cost of fear.

Friday night
It's a Friday night
The Price Is Right
On Friday night.

Emotions swift like dandy canes
The girl in a corner was quite plain
She flew a kite
She didn't bite
I asked her to be my main
My main
My main

Friday night
It's a Friday night
The Price Is Right
On Friday night.

My plus one plus size on the double
The dinner diner night of rubble

Friday night
It's a Friday night
The Price is Right
On Friday night.

4. Danse of the Dasani by Jonas R. Dickinson (genre: pure beauty)
Lilt lilt
Tick tick table
Skin along my insides
Shave the flower of my flesh.
Pull away, give way to day
Dance, Dasani, Dance.

The indians fly in the cold crisp air
Turtles bright and chipper, glistening their hairs
We find a rabbit in a field
We find a crow among the real.

Pop pop, pip pip
At the native reserve
Clink of the bottles
Alcoholism served.

The bottomless pit
Of sin and ill breeding
Bliss among the skip
The skip

Dance of the Dasani
We Worship You.

5. Ditty of Dori by Jonas R. Dickinson (genre: childrens)
A lonely little spangle
A tertiary right angly
Who giggles and wiffles for joy
Who longs for the seat of a toy
With tea in her pocket
Her love in a locket
With a strangled banner waving to the Rhine
Child, my child, you will be fine.
Sway a little to the moons restative beginnings
And find the shine on the waters of your hand.
Tickle-me-Elmo with smoky sauced pansies
In-between times so soaked with regret.

6. Harriwood Castle by Jonas R. Dickinson (genre: Rock and Roll)
At Harriwood Castle, where the dinosaurs lay
Under singing times, champagne hardies
Party hardy, said the tyrannosaurus
The metaphor
The titanic.
Cast off and away, me hearties!
Find the light at the butt of the sea.
Smoke it with all your might
A salmon of the ocean
And finally
Return to the place you were begot
Like a turtle
And finally be free
Like a dance on the sea.
So Party,
Party hardy, said the tyrannosaurus
The metaphor
Your mind.
The Lucitania.
It sank like your definitions
A society of skeletons
When you fight the man
The dude
Of kings.

7. Single Brass by Jonas R. Dickinson (genre: spoken word/comedy)
Spill out your guts on the room of the dance hall comedy room! Floor it!
Isn't it interesting that you walk on a floor
When the ceiling's so bare?
Try up there! I have a great pun:
Can you hack it with us crooners?
Free up delight! Single malted ice cream
I scream, you scream, we all want to dream
Of whipped, whipped cream:
A great pun.
Like a parrot, never haughty, always solid,
In the mystery so stolid.
And I thought that we were ballads
Ballads in the heydays of contentment!

So ring ring ring with a tinkling of cream
When you find you're a solid solid dream
Of a life gone by
While you try not to die
And laugh at my songs
My mystery
And my puns.

The pun is a word game, you find in the dark
I could make money in the depths of a park
The tin of a hat
With a single loud CRACK.
Shark and opened.
Its teeth, round and round it spins
When it stops, you may not win!
The lid of the tin of the hat

Perhaps a career as a singer/songwriter lies in my future? The cuisinist thinking has not boded me well, and was not my apartay. So, I hope you enjoy these songs from my heart, as they have influence my life in the extreme, and my being in a larger sense. If you are in contact with any musical producers, please be in contact with me. Direct them towards my passion, and we will find each other. It could be lucrative in many ways for all four of us.

With sincerity and deep green felt regret,