torsdag 30 juni 2011

too fucking Big to die!!!!

The Speech

This is a slightly revised version of the eulogy I delivered for Clarence at his memorial. I'd like to thank all our fans and friends who have comforted us over the past difficult weeks.FOR THE BIG MAN
I've been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there. It's a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes. As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I'm pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him. I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.
Those of us who shared Clarence's life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though "C" mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride. Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C's qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness. But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach. "C" lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess. This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend. Clarence's unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions. Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress. "C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went A... B.... C.... D. It was always A... J.... C.... Z... Q... I....! That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world. I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.
It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons. Tina, I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him. Victoria, you've been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of "C's" vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates. My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world. I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence's heart, in the Temple of Soul.
So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we'd pull up to the evening's lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world of his own. Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic, night after night. Clarence's ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible. By 69, he'd had a good run, because he'd already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man. Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C's suitcase. As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves. "C" always knew how to live. Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man's world. I'd wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures. Being allowed admittance to the Temple's wonders was a lovely thing.
As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man... no surprise. To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook. He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard. And... to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black. In Sammy's eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure. So... Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence's suits and his royal robes. He declined a seat in dad's van and opted for "C's" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show. He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn't do, and he'd saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul.
Of course, also enchanted was Sam's dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend.
Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet. You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do. You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you. Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety, and in some funny way we became each other's protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C" from a world where it still wasn't so easy to be big and black. Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it. Clarence's celebrity and size did not make him immune. I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn't always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either. But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I'd written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that... that's what I'm gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together... the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that's just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it... it's the New World. Clarence doesn't leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.
So, I'll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace. But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell... and that he gave to you... is gonna carry on. I'm no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god's work... work that's still unfinished. So I won't say goodbye to my brother, I'll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done.
Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story. Thanks for the miracle... and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul.
I'm gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour. As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we'd shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of something big."
Love you, "C".

Nattens låt

lördag 25 juni 2011

We swore forever friends

En vecka har gått

fredag 24 juni 2011

onsdag 22 juni 2011

Hela världen sörjer Clarence

och det är precis så det ska vara



Regnet öser ner

På något sätt känns det helt i sin ordning

Stora jättetårar ifrån himlen

The Golden Girl frågar mig

När kommer det att kännas lite lättare

Jag vet inte får jag svara

Allt jag vet är vad jag känner nu

Sometimes I feel so weak I just want to explode
Explode and tear this whole town apart
Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart

Man ska vårda sin sorg säger Bastigubben så klokt

Vårda den är ett bra uttryck

Att vårda sin sorg är att sköta om den och framförallt

Tillåta den

Bära den med högburet huvud

Låta tårarna få komma som dom vill

och skratten

Det finns en glädje i sorgen

Glädjen över det som var

Det som vi mist nu

och däri ligger sorgen

Lära sig att inget blir som förrut

Att sorgen är en del av livet

Kom nu sorgen så går vi

och ta kärleken och glädjen med dig


tisdag 21 juni 2011

söndag 19 juni 2011

With overwhelming sadness

It is with overwhelming sadness that we inform our friends and fans that at 7:00 tonight, Saturday, June 18, our beloved friend and bandmate, Clarence Clemons passed away.  

Bruce Springsteen 

Danny is waiting for you Clarence

Älskade Clarence

Jag finner inga ord..............

nu är det över

lördag 18 juni 2011

fredag 17 juni 2011

tisdag 14 juni 2011

And THE BIG MAN joined the band

When the change was made uptown
And the Big Man joined the band
From the coastline to the city
All the little pretties raise their hands

The Healing floor

Från Backstreets

Peter Ames Carlin (who, as we've previously reported, is at work on a new Springsteen biography), has just posted a few quotes from his recent conversations with Clarence. We particularly like this one:

"With all that pain and agony I went through on the last tour — I'd do it again. There's something about being on stage. I call it the Healing Floor. I do all this shit up there and then I think back later and say, 'How the hell did I do that?' But it's what I'm supposed to do. It revives me"

The Healing Floor awaits, Clarence. We're hoping and praying you'll be there again soon. Read more at

måndag 13 juni 2011

Dagens låt

Clarence says

When Rolling Stone spoke to Clemons in February he said that virtually nothing would take him off the road with Springsteen and The E Street Band. "As long as my mouth, hands and brain still work I'll be out there doing it," he said. "I'm going to keep going 'til I'm not there anymore. This is what's keeping me alive and feeling young and inspired. My spiritual teacher Sri Chinmoy told me that my purpose in life is to bring joy and light to the world, and I don't know any better way to do then what I'm doing now."

Clarence skrev till mig


Du store BIG MAN

Jag bugar för dig


Bli frisk!!!

Något annat är inte möjligt!!

söndag 12 juni 2011

Den eviga frågan

Vem städar hos städerskan?
Jag har ställt den frågan tusen ggr och aldrig fått ett svar

Nej för överklassen som anlitar städerskan skiter väl i den saken

Samma överklass som inte vill betala skatt till arbetslösa och sjuka tar tacksamt emot alla bidrag dom själva kan få

Det är ju som så att dom som verkligen sliter hårt och skulle vara i behov av avlastning och hjälp med städning aldrig någonsin   skulle få råd med det

Johanna Koljonen som såg till att hon och Birro vann i På Spåret som man tyckte verkade så smart

Där sjönk hon som en sten

Sjunker gör däremot inte underbara  Åsa

Du är så jävla bra Åsa så hälften kunde vara nog

Min hjältinna!!

Lilla O

Äldst av familjens tre katter

Mamma till 28 barn fördelat på sex kullar

Numera steriliserad och pensionerad

Sover mest hela långa dagen

Vid detta tillfället var hon dock vaken och gick ut för att få en liten nypa frisk  luft

Lilla O heter egentligen Ortrud

lördag 11 juni 2011

En konsert på svtplay är åxå en konsert


Badlands, you gotta live it everyday
Let the broken hearts stand
As the price you've gotta pay
We'll keep pushin' till it's understood
and these badlands start treating us good

Satan i Gatan!!!!

Så jävla förbannad jag blir när jag läser kommentarerna på  Barnfattigbloggen

Alla jävla borgare måste ha bildat någon slags telefonkedja och bestämt att anfalla bloggen med sina vidriga åsikter

Det finns inga fattiga barn mässar dom

Bara misslyckade föräldrar som p.g.a. sin oförmåga hamnat i fattigdom

Säkert röker och super dom upp sina bidrag
D.v.s när dom inte trycker i sig halvfabrikat som dom blir feta av
Fattiga barn ska inte ha x-box och playstation för då är dom inte fattiga
Fattiga barn ska ha det så knapert så att dom knappt har mat för dagen och möjligen tak över huvudet men det får isåfall vara en enkel boning
Här ska inga fattiga satar komma och tro att dom gjort sig förtjänta av semester eller någon form av nöje
Glass och Oboy är inga självklarheter!!!!!!!

Borgarasen håller hårt i sina plånböcker
Dom tänker sannerligen inte betala skatt till dom lata jävlarna
Lite välgörenhet kan dom tänka sig men då ska pengarna gå till mat och hör sen!!!!!!
Fattiga barn får inte spela tvspel
När dom blir stora kan dom jobba sig upp och bli rika lyckliga moderater
Då kanske dom kan köpa sig ett playstation men inte nu
Är man fattig ska man lida och inte tro att man kan jämföra sig med dom lyckade
Dom däruppe som om dom själva får säga det har slitit och jobbat hårt för att kommit dit dom kommit
Dit där man kan åtnjuta en viss lyx
för det har man förtjänat!!!!!!
Nej en spark i baken på landets alla supande rökande tjocka fattiga ensamma mammor
Det är vad dom behöver är högerns melodi
Redovisa socialbidraget säger dom
Säkert gömmer mammorna undan pengar till sprit och cigg
Det finns ingen barnfattigdom
det finns ingen barnfattigdom
det finns..........

Lyssna nu era borgare!!!!!

och den beror på detta klassamhälle som ni så desperat försvarar
Nu är ni rädda va?
För att ni inte i lugn och ro ska få fortsätta att åtnjuta era förbannade skattesänkningar
Så ni kan sitta där och räkna era pengar samtidigt som ni delar ut era beskäftiga råd om hur fattiga mammor ska hushålla med sina pengar
Köpa era playstation till era barn samtidigt som ni pekar finger åt andras barn!!!!!

Jag mår illa över er!!!!!!

Satan i Gatan vilka obehagliga typer ni är!


Lennon och New York

Har precis sett dokumentären Lennon och New York

En sak är säker

Världen kommer aldrig att komma över Johns död

Jag vet att jag inte gör det iallafall

fredag 10 juni 2011

Planterat idag

Massor av petunior
Jag älskar petunior
Dom luktar Mamma och påminner mig om min barndom

Dom påminner  mig om Ottebol där jag hade mina somrar
Mina sommarlov
Mitt Saltkråkan
Min Mamma och min Pappa


onsdag 8 juni 2011


Dr House is in the house

Jag har fått en ny inneboende i mitt hus
Varje dag kommer han och tillsammans ställer vi diagnos  på samtiden

Good Morning Good Morning

När man har har jobbat natten så är det faktiskt morgon nu och känslan av nyvakenhet sitter i resten av dagen

Ett ypperligt sätt att starta dagen på är att lyssna till

schulman radio 


lördag 4 juni 2011

Zebulon indianernas vän

är död

Rest in Peace Zeb! Min haltande hjälte!