(no subject)
"head down towards kansas -
we will get there when we get there,
don't you worry.
feel bad about the things we do
along the way,
but not really that bad.
we inhaled the frozen air.
lord send me a mechanic,
if i'm not beyond repair."
- the mountain goats, "psalms 40:2"
the new mountain goats album leaked today. i'd like to think i'm among the first few hundred people to hear it; i am fairly sure i could probably claim to be in the first 150. it only leaked today, after all. there was a moment of moral dilemma about whether or not to listen to it. but the fact is, i'm going to do my damnedest to preorder the vinyl on amazon ASAP.
it's a beautiful album. it's powerful like a quiet car, traversing some serious distance. i won't - can't - say more.
lately, i seem to have lost the people i used to know; when the ball is left in their court, play stops completely. i'm beginning to be okay with that. i don't need more misery than i manufacture inside my own head.
i have begun work on a series of poems (maybe the series will at some point include prose, but it is poetry for now) called "divorce poems". the narrator is a man between 28-40. he is, predictably, a bitter divorcee. it stems from my love of the Mountain Goats, and my absolute inability to write music. i'm working on the editing and polishing of "braids OR divorce poem III". the title is a work in progress. here is the poem, as it stands now.
braids OR divorce poem III
i used to
braid your hair
every morning before work,
water from the shower
beading
in the small of your back,
dripping,
making the white sheets
less opaque.
your hair,
my fingers working
it into neat french plaits.
you'd let your hair down
when you came home,
for me alone to see.
i should have sensed
the trouble starting when
you let your hair down
at parties,
and it wasn't mine alone
(i am sorry
i am a jealous man)
the sheets changed to cream,
then blue,
then green, red, brown -
and then didn't change at all.
(i am sorry
i didn't change them myself)
i should have sensed
the trouble starting
when it stopped
being about me
braiding your hair
and became about
you
upbraiding me.
we will get there when we get there,
don't you worry.
feel bad about the things we do
along the way,
but not really that bad.
we inhaled the frozen air.
lord send me a mechanic,
if i'm not beyond repair."
- the mountain goats, "psalms 40:2"
the new mountain goats album leaked today. i'd like to think i'm among the first few hundred people to hear it; i am fairly sure i could probably claim to be in the first 150. it only leaked today, after all. there was a moment of moral dilemma about whether or not to listen to it. but the fact is, i'm going to do my damnedest to preorder the vinyl on amazon ASAP.
it's a beautiful album. it's powerful like a quiet car, traversing some serious distance. i won't - can't - say more.
lately, i seem to have lost the people i used to know; when the ball is left in their court, play stops completely. i'm beginning to be okay with that. i don't need more misery than i manufacture inside my own head.
i have begun work on a series of poems (maybe the series will at some point include prose, but it is poetry for now) called "divorce poems". the narrator is a man between 28-40. he is, predictably, a bitter divorcee. it stems from my love of the Mountain Goats, and my absolute inability to write music. i'm working on the editing and polishing of "braids OR divorce poem III". the title is a work in progress. here is the poem, as it stands now.
braids OR divorce poem III
i used to
braid your hair
every morning before work,
water from the shower
beading
in the small of your back,
dripping,
making the white sheets
less opaque.
your hair,
my fingers working
it into neat french plaits.
you'd let your hair down
when you came home,
for me alone to see.
i should have sensed
the trouble starting when
you let your hair down
at parties,
and it wasn't mine alone
(i am sorry
i am a jealous man)
the sheets changed to cream,
then blue,
then green, red, brown -
and then didn't change at all.
(i am sorry
i didn't change them myself)
i should have sensed
the trouble starting
when it stopped
being about me
braiding your hair
and became about
you
upbraiding me.