playing along w/jess

1 05 2007

in other news, some work is getting done, some inappropriate conversations are happening on the intarwub, some restraint is being shown in who i haven’t thrown rocks at lately (and sugar that remains un-poured), & the passive voice is being abused for no particular purpose. spoonboy514 just totally dissed me in the coffee realm, but we’re chalking that up to exam-week-stress & not making much of it.

quote of the day so far (wholly unrelated to yoda or my favorite jedi) = “do you have your own office? good. i’m not going to be all ‘put your hand down your pants & pretend you’re gonna fuck me like an animal’ if you have ppl reading over your shoulder, after all.” she’s right, that’s a bad idea and i shouldn’t do participate. >sigh<

flute guy just packed all his stuff up in a uhaul yesterday and moved away; no more will he play celtic-sounding tunes in the rain from his porch, or wander down the street barefoot serenading the neighborhood. i suppose that's indicative of how it's time to go, alongside everybody else's packing-energy; i'll miss him, but i won't have time to miss him for long, & that's true all over.

i keep getting snagged on different lines of the talking heads' "lifetime piling up" (at least in between being relentlessly obsessed w/the decemberists, the chills up my spine every time the cello enters, turning the volume up & up to hear just how many tracks are rolling all at once, although i'm starting to realize that not only is a lot of the stuff in that story sad, so's the stuff in my version, & i’m starting to recognize the desire to avert my eyes from that bit)

unrelated to packing & moving in & out of buildings, lives, places, or at least more unrelated than everything else in the tune is the key question: “are there any pirates on this ship?” the answer’s unsatisfying; “…and if they sober up, they’ll have us home by morning” what the heck fun would that be, anyway? a good pirate-kidnapping should take weeks and involve nothing remotely like sobriety! and oh, these days i’m aching for a good kidnapping (and the bastards are convening without me again).

if i had to ask david byrne anything in particular about the song, it would probably be more like: what’s this “home” you speak of, kemo sabe? cuz even the thinking about packing stirs up the feet and the question-marks with equal dusty fervor. i’m fantasizing about cars i can’t afford; i want both distance and the means to control it, opportunity and the logistical ability to chase after it, & miles & miles of roads & roads & roads.




One response

2 05 2007

Mmmmmm. Wafflesssss!!!

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