Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
I'm Waiting For You To Show
I’m waiting for you to show
Me what the plan is
Or if you have any plan
Behind the show
That you have to keep so private
Because any public exposure
Is just too hurtful.
Says you.
For a few minutes while we argue.
Then you go back
To surfing the net
Reading some news
About an inconsequential event
You barely understand
And certainly can’t do anything
About
{
still It’s so much less painful
than thinking about yourself
than trying to make a plan
to get out
of your misery and your rut
}
I try to keep it clean
I try to say my words just right.
I don’t mind a cut or 2
But I still try to keep it positive
And simple
“You just gotta tell me what you are doing,
and some semblance of a plan.”
I know there’s nothing behind
The constructs she puts up
I let it stand
Flimsily
Because I’m not out to destroy her
I just want to wake her up
And have a real person to talk to.
I try to keep my shit straight
I ain’t so good at it myself
I am making my way
With the changes that a reporter would describe as
“reinventing myself”
It isn’t so easy when the world isn’t ready to embrace you
I wish I was Pamela Anderson as
They so easily see what she has to offer
And they will gladly pay for it.
I struggle to get my little statement out
About being around for so long
Took in the roots and now
I’m ready to sprout.
It’s a little late for that I see
All the ads for rockers say
“not older than 33”
I see that things have become so stagnant
that Tom Petty has risen to the top of the heap.
“What is that that allows you to listen to him?
Teach me, I want to know.”
Because whenever his music comes on
It’s like I’m in an elevator
Looking for the floor that ‘s mine
is all I seem to know.
{
I despised supermarket music through the years,
All thru the “Musak” years.
They double watered down “hits” that everybody knew;
sucked all of the life out of them.
Any song could be made inoffensive when
Musak gave it their treatment.
But now the supermarkets have done their market research
And found more than a few
Were silently puking over their work
While trying to find their Cheerios.
The marketers did a “study”
Like they hadn’t thought of that before
And now I hear songs I played at my last gig
In their original form.
While I shop.
I don’t resist;
I get my Cheerios more cheerfully now.
I don’t think about whether
They’ve found me
Or I’ve joined them.
}
So; Petty, and petty, and picayune-
A word I love but that has fallen out of favor
And a music.
And a woman.
Me what the plan is
Or if you have any plan
Behind the show
That you have to keep so private
Because any public exposure
Is just too hurtful.
Says you.
For a few minutes while we argue.
Then you go back
To surfing the net
Reading some news
About an inconsequential event
You barely understand
And certainly can’t do anything
About
{
still It’s so much less painful
than thinking about yourself
than trying to make a plan
to get out
of your misery and your rut
}
I try to keep it clean
I try to say my words just right.
I don’t mind a cut or 2
But I still try to keep it positive
And simple
“You just gotta tell me what you are doing,
and some semblance of a plan.”
I know there’s nothing behind
The constructs she puts up
I let it stand
Flimsily
Because I’m not out to destroy her
I just want to wake her up
And have a real person to talk to.
I try to keep my shit straight
I ain’t so good at it myself
I am making my way
With the changes that a reporter would describe as
“reinventing myself”
It isn’t so easy when the world isn’t ready to embrace you
I wish I was Pamela Anderson as
They so easily see what she has to offer
And they will gladly pay for it.
I struggle to get my little statement out
About being around for so long
Took in the roots and now
I’m ready to sprout.
It’s a little late for that I see
All the ads for rockers say
“not older than 33”
I see that things have become so stagnant
that Tom Petty has risen to the top of the heap.
“What is that that allows you to listen to him?
Teach me, I want to know.”
Because whenever his music comes on
It’s like I’m in an elevator
Looking for the floor that ‘s mine
is all I seem to know.
{
I despised supermarket music through the years,
All thru the “Musak” years.
They double watered down “hits” that everybody knew;
sucked all of the life out of them.
Any song could be made inoffensive when
Musak gave it their treatment.
But now the supermarkets have done their market research
And found more than a few
Were silently puking over their work
While trying to find their Cheerios.
The marketers did a “study”
Like they hadn’t thought of that before
And now I hear songs I played at my last gig
In their original form.
While I shop.
I don’t resist;
I get my Cheerios more cheerfully now.
I don’t think about whether
They’ve found me
Or I’ve joined them.
}
So; Petty, and petty, and picayune-
A word I love but that has fallen out of favor
And a music.
And a woman.
taking the time
Christmas shopping providing a break from routine. Unusual because usually I have to squeeze it in. It’s kind of sublime to have all the time in the world to do things. I don’t know what a schedule is any more. When I do have to comply to a timetable of sorts, like when I went on the 2 day Long Island excursion, it is much more of a novelty than an annoyance. Still, I don’t really rush; I just make an effort to not get distracted; well, maybe a little, just not too much. I find that I am much better at “sitting” with people. I can sit still, react and interact without my subconscious somehow demanding efficiency. Efficiency and social interaction don’t really mix. Most people really need some time to “get it out”. (The things you hear more immediately are often the things that you would rather not hear: commands, demands, and insults.) When people take their time, you get the stuff that is parenthetical, that falls through the cracks, and that is often the most expressive.
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