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El Perro

 

One of my favorite paintings, El Perro (The Dog) as it is called—I think you could call it The Abyss—was never given a title by Goya who painted it on the wall of his home between 1819 and 1823 along with other paintings called The Black Paintings. Fifty years later, a Belgian banker, who owned the house, had the crumbling mural transferred to canvas under the direction of El Museo del Prado in Madrid where the painting—with little damage—was taken and has been ever since. Some say it was the first Symbolist painting. It was a favorite of Picasso. Joan Miró, as his health was fading, went to El Prado one more time to look at it. A curator once said: “There is not a single contemporary painter in the world that does not pray in front of The Dog.” I am lucky to have stood in front of it myself. It was something.

I’ve heard some say, “Not much there.” But what is there I like a lot. Non sequitur: In the early 70s in Philly I was tripping on acid while I watched kittens being born, and then walking down the steps to the living room where the party was going on, planning on telling everyone about the kittens, Jimi Hendrix sang Dolly Dagger from the stereo, “Watch out, baby, here comes your master,” and in the guitar frenzy that followed I found myself ripped away from everyone, alone on that staircase, stepping suddenly on a precipice, face to face with God, or on the edge of existence, whatever you want to call it, the moment, between the past and present, now, and as small as I was that is as big as IT was. Right there in front of the All Powerful.

When I look at the painting by Goya I remember that inexplicable moment in Philadelphia. Instead of the Dog or The Abyss I could easily call it The Fear of God. Perhaps you would have had to have been there 

 

 

Dolly Dagger


Here comes Dolly Dagger
Her love’s so heavy, gonna make you stagger
Dolly Dagger
She drinks the blood from a jagged edge
Aw, drink up, baby

Been riding broomsticks since she was fifteen
Blowin’ out all the other witches on the scene
She got a bullwhip just as long as your life
Her tongue can even scratch the soul out of the devil’s wife
Well, I seen her in action at the Player’s Choice
Turn all the love men into doughnut boys
Hey, red hot mama, you better step aside
This chick’s gonna turn you to a block of ice
Look out!

Here comes Dolly Dagger
Her love’s so strong, gonna make you stagger, baby
Dolly Dagger
She drinks her blood from a jagged edge
Uh, right on
Drink up, baby
Hey!

Yeah, look at old burnt out Superman, tryin’ to shoot his dust on the sun
Captain Karma kids, they’re dead on the run
Oh, words of love, do they ever touch Dolly Brown?
Better get some highway an’ clear outta town

Here comes Dolly Dagger
Her love’s so heavy, gonna make you stagger
Dolly Dagger
She ain’t satisfied ’til she gets what she’s after
She drinks the blood from a jagged edge
Better watch out, baby, here comes your master

Alright
Watch out, Devon
You give me a little bit of that heaven

Dolly, heavy mama, get it on, get it on, get it on
Dolly, heavy mama, get it on, get it on, get it on
Dolly, heavy mama, get it on, get it on, get it on
Dolly, heavy mama, get it on, get it on, get it on
Get it on, get it on, get it on, get it on, get it on, get it on
Woo, yeah, yeah, yeah
Woo, yeah, yeah, yeah
Woo, yeah, yeah, yeah
Woo, yeah, yeah, yeah
Woo, yeah, yeah, yeah

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