Sometimes the burden wins in the end. Some people are friends who
should never be friends when the weather warms up. (And the winter gives in to its cravings for various colors).
I know the weather girls are lying when they
say: "Its never going to be as hot as this again", but
I can nearly buy it in the afternoon when i have
got a new supply of medicine.
(The sort that you get from somebody's kid on the street).
Summer surprised us. It came surreptitiously, like a woman from Maine breaking into your basement and making your dog learn the sound of her name (and then stealing your copy of 'Teenage Cavegirl' and
selling it at night
beneath an overpass).
Lately we've been trying to imitate
the grass: swallowing the sun all day and getting
high. It feels like the air is just a lukewarm bath and
we're making our way (to nowhere at all)
through the heat.
I heard what he said, but his words were a lie. They were likely brought on by the heat and by the way that
the sun huddles up to the night... It makes we
want to bury my mind in the weekend.
Some people are friends who should never be friends but they are...
Track Name: Mennonite Men (& The Women Who Miss Them)
The Mennonite men that we met
when the summer began are gone. I saw them
talking in conspiratorial tones and then I saw them
boarding their royal blue van. Now the street feels abandoned again.
I can handle it for most of the day when
the neon sun sits high and sharp
in the folds of the faded yellow sky.
But it gets to me at night.
I try not to think about it.
And I don't really have to, because there's
a flood on the way. you can tell by the number of
grief stricken looks that
the girls around here give to criminals like us.
They're afraid to believe in a thing like relief (with good reason), but they aren't your average omnivorous women: they spend most of the day composing villanelles about Anthony Lane.
They know his name so well.
I try not to think about it and
I usually succeed.
Track Name: Cuba Gooding Jr.
I felt it back
for a minute. If I
even felt it at all...
There was a thickness
that hung in the air but now
its thinning. Everything is opening up.
The Wind is willowy and pale as it slides
across the buildings; gliding like a
hospital ship. Yesterday I saw the
nails that hold everything
air tastes like
tar. It lingers on
our faces and gathers
in our good weather clothes.
When I got in the car I thought
that we had made it. It thought we
were at least getting close.
But now I see your uncle and his
friends circling the building.
They're looking for a way
to get in. I called the
cops, they're on
their way. And
I don't want
to kill him,
I won't let him win.
Track Name: Mandarin Collars With Women
You've got a lot on your mind. I hear that
you don't even listen to music anymore and
just packing your suitcase makes you angry
and violent. Women love a man who knows
his casual wear from his workout clothes, his
mandarin collars from the souls of his clients.
But who could foresee how many things would
be hidden inside your coat. You're living for free
at least three nights a trip because of the shit
you wrote. So well equipped and so alive but so
alone. Keep lighting those books on fire. Keep
wearing those yellow ties. I've become a believer:
the color of marketing can lead to salvation. But Joel,
do your wife and children know about Troy and the
videos that you make in your hotel room? (It's a
difficult situation.) In any case. It hardly matters,
because It's not about being liked. No! Its about
being respected. Its not about being liked. No!