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Friday, September 5th, 2008
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9:06p
Loss of words,
can't make out the mess.
Today was Nancy's funeral, died of malaria after visiting Africa.
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10:50p - at the bottom of everything
So there’s this woman and she was on an airplane and she’s flying to meet her fiancé,
sailing high above the, the largest ocean on planet earth, and she was seated next to this man who, you know, she had tried to start conversations, and, only – really the only thing she’d heard him say was just to order his Bloody Mary,
and she’s sittin’ there, and she’s readin’ this really arduous magazine article about a third world country that she couldn’t even pronounce the, the name of, and she’s feeling very bored, and very despondent.
And then, suddenly . . . there was this huge mechanical failure and one of the, the engines gave out, and they started just falling - thirty thousand feet - the pilot’s on the, on the microphone and he’s, he’s saying, um,
”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh my God, I’m . . . I’m sorry,”
and apologizing and she looks at the man, and she, and she says, she says, she says, “Where are we going?"
And and he looks at her and he says,
“We’re going to a party . . . it, it’s a birthday party . . . it’s your birthday party, happy birthday, darling. We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much.”
And then he starts hummin’ this little tune, and, and, uh, it kinda goes like this
We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web
We must rip out all the epilogues from the books that we have read
Into the face of every criminal strapped firmly to a chair
We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
Into the ear of every anarchist that sleeps but doesn't dream and it'll go like this, all right
While my mother waters plants, my father loads his gun
He says, "Death will give us back to God just like the setting sun is returned to the lonesome ocean"
And then they splashed into the deep blue sea
Oh, it was a wonderful splash!
We must blend into the choir, sing as static with the whole
We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul
Into this endless race for property and privilege to be won
We must run
We must hang up in the belfry where the bats and moonlight laugh
We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past
Into the caverns of tomorrow with just our flashlights and our love
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge
And then we'll get down there way down to the very bottom of everything
And then we'll see it, oh, we'll see it! We'll see it!
Oh, my morning's coming back
The whole world’s waking up
All the city buses swimming past
I'm happy just because I found out I am really no one
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