Sunday, November 4, 2012

and then there's more music

And it's not always so easy, oh, no no, it's not so easy, to hit the right note at just the right time, or to come in deep and low at just that particular moment, it's not easy at all, unless you slow down way down slow down everything just enough to get caught up in it, and once you're slowed down then you have the wherewithall to jump in and find the speed and the rhythm right there, it's right there in the center of it, but it's hard to get to the center, but if you're in the center, then it's all right there, it's already laid out and waiting for you...none of this is none of this any of this there's nothing of this is very hard at all from inside the storm, but i think you have to get inside the storm first and then this is not so hard...listen...i'm carrying all of this with me...there's that terribly confusing thing, that terribly crippling indecision thing that's so confusing to be inside of, there's that terribly charming thing, that absolutely charming delirious gorgeous thing, it's the same thing, they're the same thing, i'm taking you with me into this storm, and if you hear me singing and think i might be singing about you, but couldn't possibly think of you enough to sing about you, you are wrong, i took it with me and i take it with me, that bird that pecks on my ribs is writing your name inside my ribs, and that's why i sing what i sing...those terrible things about fathers and mortality, and the weight of the epic of a life behind you, his full of reflection and thought from inside the body in paid, mine full of magic and loss and a thousand cities and five or seven women with my name written on their ribs and a thousand conversations in cafes all over the world, what will we tell our daughters about the curve of a rib, the shape of a journey from here to there, what will we tell our daughters when we want them to calm down, and stop crying, and feel the pulse of this magnificent thing, even when our legs are tired and our hearts feel like this may not be worth it, those terrible anxious birds that come and go, now and then, come and go, what will we tell our daughters when we are not sure what kinds of cyclops are hiding around the bend, around that next mountain, the one that curves like a rib, i take you with me, i pull you like thread and take you with me, into the center of this storm...and that one that was me, this is me in high school, and there are girls who are distracting my attention, but i'm acting, and i have another role, and i keep acting, and this work is the place where i know who i am, and my parents think i'm too busy, and the girls are distracting, there are curves underneath a blue windbreaker that make me crazy and i keep saying my lines, and it's hard to sleep because i don't know where any of this is going, but this life is fresh and as real as the promise of a blue windbreaker on the dashboard of my father's van, this is the same song, and the same desire, there's never more than one desire it's always the same desire, and if the thrill is as strong as it ever was means i have not grown, i have not changed, then i have not changed, and i take it with me, i would have thought desire would have slowed itself down by now (with my terribly advanced years) but not so much, so be it, i'm helpless in it even if i know some things, but i'm helpless and this is all hopeless but it's thrilling and i take it with me, i take it with me into the center of the storm, and learn the chord progressions, slowwwwwwwly, and i take it with me, this is the storm, this is the center of my storm, and i did not create the storm, i just got caught in it, and i never changed i just got better at it and this is a song, this is why and what i sing, this is the song i was born with, singing from the cradle, this is the song, and it's all about you.

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