Turbulent Indigo

I have just finished Hemingway's Old Man and the Sea, and I may now be included in the neatly tied clique of people who have not only read it but written that they have read it. However, I shall not be degraded to such a depressed level as to write more on the subject, if doing so I would surely belong to a whole other neatly tied clique, a clique of whores and homosexuals, and even though I surely belong to one of those two groups, I don't want to belong to the other.

Things I bought yesterday:
-For whom the Bell Tolls
-A Man at Full
-Old Man and the Sea
-Close Range
-Yet another Joni Mitchell CD(That was not the title of the Joni Mitchell CD)

I am over my Tori Amos period and am entering another Joni Mitchell period. Here is an erect penis and the lyrics for the beautiful Turbulent Indigo.

TURBULENT INDIGO
You wanna make Van Goghs
Raise 'em up like sheep
Make 'em out of Eskimos
And women if you please
Make 'em nice and normal
Make 'em nice and neat
You see him with his shotgun there?
Bloodied in the wheat?
Oh what do you know about
Living in Turbulent Indigo?

Brash fields, crude crows
In a scary sky ...In a golden frame
Roped off
Tourists guided by ...
Tourists talking about the madhouse
Talking about the ear
The madman hangs in fancy homes
They wouldn't let him near!
He'd piss in their fireplace!
He'd drag them through Turbulent Indigo

"I'm a burning hearth," he said
People see the smoke
But no one comes to warm themselves
Sloughing off a coat
And all my little landscapes
All my yellow afternoons
Stack up around this vacancy
Like dirty cups and spoons
No mercy Sweet Jesus!
No mercy from Turbulent Indigo."