Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams, and other prose writings

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The song is named after "Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams", a short story by Sylvia Plath that was posthumously published in 1977 in a collection of the same name. Lasty, Parts 3 and 4 are a slightly different story; I conciously tend to avoid them, as we all know how her story ends. I really feel her reaching in these stories, and sometimes when I read them, all I can imagine is the perfectionistic writer beating her heart out trying to shape her life into beautiful prose. The song features two sets of vocals. The original verses of the song are performed in a gospel style, alternating with the lyrics from Tears for Fears' 1989 hit " Sowing the Seeds of Love" which are performed as a rap by vocalist Biti Strauchn. [1] An instrumental version of the song (without the gospel verses or the rap) also appears on the CD-single of "Advice for the Young at Heart". urn:lcp:johnnypanicbible0000plat_r3r2:epub:e964c3b0-783e-4539-84e2-ce9a0072aca1 Foldoutcount 0 Identifier johnnypanicbible0000plat_r3r2 Identifier-ark ark:/13960/s2tkg83g77m Invoice 1652 Isbn 9780061549472

Ignore the hideous, 90s, "multicultural" cover applied to this text in an effort to make classic female authors hip. Hard as it is, pull your eyes away from the horror.

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The minute Miss Milleravage moves I notice what her hulk has been hiding from view behind the desk — a white cot high as a man’s waist with a single sheet stretched over the mattress, spotless and drumskin tight. At the head of the cot is a table on which sits a metal box covered with dials and gauges. The box seems to be eyeing me, copperhead-ugly, from its coil of electric wires, the latest model in Johnny-Panic-Killers. For some early critics, Sylvia Plath's 1963 novel, The Bell Jar, was best thought of as ‘a poet's notebook’ or as ‘a poet's novel, a casebook almost in stanzas’. More recent commentators have seen it as more than mere apprentice work for the later poetry. Elizabeth Wurtzel commends its ‘remarkable achievement’ and describes it as ‘very funny, smartly detached, and often nasty in a voice too honest to be unsympathetic’, while Robin Peel notes its ‘wonderfully mordant humour’. I get ready to dodge to one side. When Miss Milleravage grabs, her fat hand comes away a list full of nothing. She starts for me again, her smile heavy as dogdays in August.

For the song by Tears for Fears, see Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams (song). First edition (publ. Faber and Faber)

Had a friend,” she boomed in her queer, doggish basso, not favoring me with a direct look, “a nurse at St. Bart’s. Tried to get in touch with her after the war, but the head of the nurses had changed, everybody’d changed, nobody’d heard of her. She must’ve gone down with the old head nurse, rubbish and all, in the bombings.” She followed this with a large grin. We wind and double, and my legs keep time with his until we come, somewhere in those barren rat tunnels, to an all-night elevator run by a onearmed Negro. We get on and the door grinds shut like the door on a cattle car and we go up and up. It is a freight elevator, crude and clanky, a far cry from the plush one in the Clinics Building.