From: tstomp3@gmail.com   
      
   On Friday, August 25, 2017 at 4:29:01 PM UTC-4, Chafetz Chayim benAvraham   
   wrote:   
   >   
   > Leonard Cohen’s elegy for David Blue:    
   >    
   > He died running, he fell beside the square, to the street where, many years   
   before he had begun to sing, he fell in the fullest expression of vanity and   
   discipline. Many of us, in our songs, had touched on the type of man that he   
   became. Dylan raised    
   up such a ragged hero many times before he turned to solace in the shadow of   
   American Chistianity. Joni Mitchell had spoken simply of that constant   
   ambiguous lover, spoken of him over and over, before she entered the beautiful   
   technology of jazz and    
   virtuosity. Kris Kristofferson had described that gambler playing his way from   
   Nashville to Hollywood, where finally the dangers of the game were too coarse   
   for poetry.    
   >    
   > David Blue was the peer of any singer in this country, and he knew it, and   
   he coveted their audiences and their power, he claimed them as his rightful   
   due. And when he could not have them, his disappointment became so dazzling,   
   his greed assumed such    
   purity, his appetite such honesty, and he stretched his arm so wide, that we   
   were all able to recognize ourselves, and we fell in love with him. And as we   
   grew older, as something in the public realm corrupted itself into   
   irrelevance, the integrity of    
   his ambition, the integrity of his failure, became, for those who knew   
   him,increasingly important and appealing, and he moved swiftly, with   
   effortless intimacy into the private life of anyone who recognized him, and   
   our private lives became for him the    
   theaters that no one would book for him, and he sang for us in hotel rooms and   
   kitchens, and he became that poet and that gambler, and he established a   
   defiant style to revive those soiled archetypes. In the last few years,   
   something happened to his    
   voice and his guitar, something very deep and sweet entered, his timing became   
   immaculate and we knew that we were listening to one of the finest, one of the   
   few men singing in America and I was happy then and perhaps happier now to say   
   that I told him    
   that.    
   >    
   > He did not put away his cowboy boots. He did not take a part-time job, he   
   was fully employed in his defiance and his originality and his faithfulness to   
   a ground, a style, an image of which he himself was the last and best champion   
   exponent, a style    
   that many of us had wanted, courted, and had not won.And finally, toward the   
   end of his short and graceful life, he had the grace to recognize the woman to   
   whom he had always been singing, and he courted and married Nesya and because   
   a woman of talent    
   and beauty does not choose lightly, she made manifest for all to plainly see   
   the qualities of love and generosity that he had forced out of his distress.   
   The death of such a man unifies us, and recalls to us how precious we are to   
   one another    
   >    
   > --Leonard Cohen [1982]    
   > ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    
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   Quite good....   
      
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    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)