Anodyne
Friday, February 09, 2007
 

There's a Straight box on Broadway directly in front of the express bus' rear doors, so this greets me every morning as they wheeze open. Rusty ironic laughter, ar, har, har. An argument over the trope last summer. I was thinking of my Main Street friends with their white-trash hats and Ron Jeremy moustaches, and took the position that irony was some sad, weak-ass shit. But now, upon reflection, that trope, or at least the ability to perceive it in the air, much as cargo dogs sniff out illicit pharmaceuticals, might be the thing most responsible for my persisting on into early middle age. "[I]ncongruity between what is expected and what occurs." Amen, oh yeah.

All Fires
Words and music by Swan Lake

You have a father, there is another
You have a sister, there are no brothers.
You have good friends, you have a lover
When friendships end, you will still love her
But it's Teresa they love the best.

There was a flood, a world of water
The mason's wife swam for her daughter.

One thousand people did what they could.
They found the steeple, tore out the wood.

Five hundred pieces means five hundred float.
One thousand people means five hundred don't.
And it's Teresa they love the best.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.
All fires have to burn alive.
All fires have to burn alive.

From near his heart, he took a rib.
All fires have to burn alive to live.
From near his heart, he took a rib.
All fires have to burn alive to live.
So it's Teresa that I love the best.

- posted by cjb @ 9:37 AM


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