Rain — With Fire, In The Park, On The Roof, Even Blue-Eyes Crying

January 28, 2021

Rain and more rain here in California’s Central Valley this Thursday afternoon, and feels like it ain’t never gonna stop.
In the news it appears an endless cycle of rain, too, mostly of the nutcase variety, of stories piled high of how the GOP is infected with a bigly-binge of crazy — like this:

Or this:

Sad consequences incorporates this:

Beyond politics, the baffling idiotic GameStop bullshit:

As if playing on a loop, all day the same shit coming from a different fount, be it mouth or anus.
Instead of wading into that shit pond, how about some tunes on the topic of rain?

Lonely, wet and sad — the granddaddy:

Similar, but on the other end of the spectrum:

And the tap-tap on a tin roof of the soul:

Silly, whimsical rain:

Anti-theme right now for my state:

When rains come, falls on Beatles, too:

Even gorgeous blue eyes cry in the rain:

Being insane even with no rain:

If it’s raining, who will stop it:

Even heavy-philosophical rain:

And last, and not least, my favorite the past couple of years — Annie does an unplugged version of her own great original:

And a song with written words — “Rain Poem” by Emily Dickinson:

A drop fell on the apple tree
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.

A few went out to help the brook,
That went to help the sea.
Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,
What necklaces could be!

The dust replaced in hoisted roads,
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards spangles hung.

The breezes brought dejected lutes,
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fête away.

And so it goes…

(Illustration: ‘The Blue Umbrella 1914,’ by Helen Hyde, found here).

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