modern living

[[ the whole thing is silly, a bad action movie script in a song - any part of it could be deleted or mixed and matched elsewhere ]] 

= = = = =

[[ sounds like a health regimen at first (take the stairs) or a home design magazine, but... no, it's how to take a building? what's going on? be vague -- words are pictures, noise ]]

skip the elevator

take the stairway

stay alive
for one more day

keep your head down

blow a mouse hole 

step next door
for rock and roll

door to door

wall to wall

floor to floor

modern living

= = = = =

[[ now we are in "the call is coming from inside the house" territory ]]

we could be underground

we could be on the air

we could be one small sound

we could be on the stair

we could be one old man

we could be in the trees

we could be on the phone

we could be all the bees

= = = = =

[[ escalation - scary guys threatening to do bad stuff  ]]

what if we watch every keystroke you make?

what if we hear every word?

what if we told all your enemies about you?

what if we heard? what if we heard? 

what if your package blew up in your face?

what if your home is on fire?

what if your family vanished forever?

what if we slip through the wire?

= = = = = 

[[ scary guys taunting their watchers ]]

you think you got us all?

we smell your dinner cooking (you need a new cook)

we see your curtain moving (peek-a-boo)

we hear your faucet dripping (I know a good plumber)

we feel the cloth she's wearing (good material)

we lick the lipstick (now we're licking your lips)

you cannot warthog

or predator us gone

now everyone has

a bomb and a drone

you like to watch us?

are you listening?

are we in Pine Gap?

or in Alice Springs?

go out to walk and  

watch the dust

in the evening

move in the evening

move in the evening

= = = = =

[[ scary guys taunting their watchers ]]

sink into the city

building by building

stairwell by stairwell

running down

sink into the city

down to the asphalt

down to the river 

flowing through

[[ contradictory images -- scary guys shot up or controlled by others or walking away or unreal? -- ambiguity is the point ]]

watch a puppet body

shaking on strings

watch a puppet body 

shake and walk away

this is a world 

we must move

to and through 

and from and under

to and through 

and from and under

to and through 

and from and under

to and through 

and from and under

= = = = = 

= = = = = 

hurricane states

I thought I'd look you up
it's been a hundred years, girl
see how life's treating you
you were so beautiful

I thought I'd look you up
but names just tumble from you
names and men and mobile homes
you go through southern states

I find you when I find you
in crime reports and
been-there mug shots
but how else can a girl
get her face in the news?

one story has you
walking home at 4am
screaming at dark houses
fighting strangers two at a time
they said you sank your teeth into them

one story has you
in your trailer 2am
telling your fiancee
walk away or I'll cut your throat
they said you did it, then swallowed pills

I thought I'd look you up
it's been a hundred years, girl
see how life's treating you
you were so beautiful

I thought I'd look you up
it's been a hundred years, girl
nothing left but concrete where
a trailer used to be

checklist

[[ After reading https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2019/01/07/on-being-a-woman-in-america-while-trying-to-avoid-being-assaulted/ in the Paris Review and various other things. ]] 

they might chuckle 

when girls go together

they might whistle

when girls go alone

they might follow

when a girl goes home

you check the checklist

you laugh to yourself

you know it's crazy

till you see it in the news

you have to wonder

will he slip me

a pill in my drink?

you have to wonder

will he rape me

when I can't think?

you have to wonder

will he stalk me?

will I be beaten?

you have to wonder

will he carve me 

will I be eaten?

you check the checklist

you laugh to yourself

you know it's crazy

till you see it in the news

you have to wonder

will he dump me 

out in the park?

you have to wonder

will they find me 

dead in the dark? 

you have to wonder

what will it be?

what will it be?

you have to wonder

will it be me?

will it be me?

you check the checklist

you laugh to yourself

you know it's crazy

till you see it in the news

keep off the street

keys in your fist

lock up the car 

and drive like hell

the weight of the soul

[[ Weapons -- bullets, bombs, missiles -- and the technology of violence, the politics and philosophy of violence, the blinking out of life. And there was the famous (?) experiment in which someone claimed to weigh the human soul and came up with 21 grams. ]] 

how fast they move

these pieces of metal

how hard and sharp 

they make themselves known

the projection of power

is airtight, cylindrical, 

streamlined and modular

how small they seem 

these pieces of certainty

how they disintegrate

all understanding 

the end of it all 

has just crossed the border

and gone underground

how fast they die 

the cells of memory

how the mind blinks out

second by second

the weight of the soul

is the difference between

the body before and after

how small we seem

with no more certainty

how we disintegrate

past understanding

the end of it all 

has just crossed the border

and gone underground

the weight of the soul

is the difference between

the body before and after

we die surrounded,

surrounding, before and after,

feel the weight of the soul

bullets are faster

watch a man die

on a corner some night

it starts with a look

it starts up a fight

it starts to look bad

when your man pulls a gun

it starts off a miniature

war against one

they tell him to get the fuck

down on the ground

they tell him but

bullets are faster

bullets are faster than sound

might as well step

in the way of a train

"get the fuck..." comes

with a shot to the brain

they tell him to get the fuck

down on the ground

they tell him but

bullets are faster

bullets are faster than sound

watch a man die

on a corner some night

it starts with a look

it starts up a fight

not in this town

now there's a cross

and a candle in glass,

an ad hoc memorial

where they shot his ass

wrong place to be

wrong place to be

what's it sound like?

a bullet going past?

a bullet going in  --

someone bleeds out fast?

everyone knows 

everyone knows 

we run diagonally 

through empty places 

that all used to be somewhere

we crouch and run 

over empty bridges 

when bullets are in the air

to keep your head, 

you keep it down

there's no one special 

in this town

no one special 

above the ground

not in this town

[[ guns in any city with too many guns, but maybe Sarajevo in particular. ']]

the wind blowing through

The wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

The walls holding up
this house are the same
but it's been through some times
and the names have all changed

And the wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

The glass in these windows
has been in the street
shards in the garden
still under our feet

And the wind blowing through
this house is the same wind
east wind, east wind,
always blowing through.

hot war
cold war
you hear the drumming
hot war
cold war
a different war coming

don't look away

they can't walk away?

you can't look away.

they can't walk away?

you can't look away.

you standing there?

get that phone in the air  

don't give it up ..

don't be scared ...

don't give it up ...

catch every word ...

rumble the numbers

from all of those badges

record the order

of all of those punches

man can't walk away?

you can't look away.

don't look away

but don't talk ...

to the cops ...

and don't look away

don't talk ...

to the cops ...

and don't look away

Drone Pilot Blues

Woke up this morning

To the sound of a slamming door

My baby had left me

To fight another war

Wearing sneakers and jeans

Has a couple of screens

full of chat

She's the last earthly noise

in the ears of the boys

chewing khat

Woke up this evening

To the sound of her coming home

My baby's the captain

Of a killer drone.

When I ask how her day went

She has nothing to tell

When I ask what it's like

She just says, "Go to hell,

Go to hell."

Said "I might have shot a bad guy

Anyway, I called the shot."

Said "He might have done some bad things.

Or maybe not.

Maybe not."

Woke up this morning

To the sound of a slamming door

My baby had left me

To fight another war

Woke up this morning

Woke up this morning

Woke up this morning

[[ A song about the remote pilots, the remote trigger men and women who put someone in the crosshairs on their screen -- based on spy reports and on what they can see from the air -- and then fire on command. The uncertainty, the stress, the weird distance from the results. Commuting off to war in an office building and commuting home again at night. ]]

Pachinko

You're new around here.

Let's play the pachinko.

Have you seen the formations

rise up through the air?

Just look out the window

of this dirtbag saloon.

See nature's formations
rise up from the earth.

Now look the other way,

out past the pachinko,
just through the other window.

There. See those towers 

rise up through the air?

Remember those towers,

those pillars of light.

Look there tomorrow, 

those towers are gone.

But you're new around here.

Let's play the pachinko.

[[ Even I know only vaguely what this one is about. This is probably the framework for something larger. It's the opposition of nature and technology, or east and west, or indigenous and colonial, or Las Vegas and the desert, played out in a shitty bar set between the two. And there's a pachinko machine, which is something I have never actually seen. It is chance, fortune, noisy gaudy fate. The song and the universe are cleft in two by a pachinko machine. This could be anywhere two such forces clash. And the older, natural, indigenous force will win. According to the narrator. Don't worry, I'll come back and add rhymes and stuff to make it suitable for your weekly line dancing class. ]]

Bang

Bang.

Remember me?
I'm the girl next door

I'm the girl you want
I'm the girl you want to

Bang.

I'm a girl you used
I'm a girl you used to

Bang.

Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

I was born dead, baby.
Or I died of disease
I was carried off by lions
Or I was left out to freeze

Bang.

I was raped at twelve
a mother at thirteen
I was bred again at fourteen
and a corpse at fifteen

Bang.

Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

Or I was married off early
to some man from the town
I met him when I wed him.
They had to tie me down.

Bang.

Or I was sent to the kitchen,
or the cellar, the attic,
I was banged in them all
till I hanged myself out back

Bang.

Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

I was sent to the factory,
or warehouse or workhouse
I ran off one night for
asylum in the whorehouse

Bang.

I was beaten to death
for my terrible crime
but not till the bastards
banged me one last time

Bang.

Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

I am
the dust
you breathe in,
you breathe out
every day.

I am
your family
confession
written in
your DNA.

you don't know how it is
I hardly know
I hardly know myself

You don't know how it is
Know how it is
Know how it is

Know how it is

Bang.

[[ There is no coherent narrative intended. It's not about one girl, so details of the story differ. The girl in one line dies one way and dies another way in another line. It's a series of images. If it was a video, you'd see different scenes, different girls, different ages, different eras, different circumstances, but always girls being mistreated. "I'm Every Woman" being abused, married off, enslaved, beaten, raped, killed. Maybe that last bang is her putting a bullet in someone. ]]

Whose war was she in?

[[ From a memory of when I was very young in the 1960s and my mother had brought me with her into a social club. A drunken woman approached us to see this pale little boy. She said she liked my name and repeated it back to me in a low, drawn-out voice several times. Her face was scarred, seamed, pieced, I don't know from what. In those days, she could have been through either world war or through a windscreen made from the opposite of safety glass. ]]


Who is this tumbler reeling
towards us in the club?
I must be five and she a thousand.
I must be terrified and frozen.

Save me, ma, from
the fates at night.

Save me, ma, from
the bombs that fall.

Save me, ma, from
the patchwork face.

Save me, save us all,
ma, from us all.

Who is this woman with
a glass of something golden,
an orange cigarette smolder,
a face pieced back together
along the seams?

Save me, ma, from
the fates at night.

Save me, ma, from
the bombs that fall.

Save me, ma, from
the patchwork face.

Save me, save us all,
ma, from us all.

Whose war was she
in? Whose war?
Whose war was she?
No one left to ask.

monsters at night

beware the ladies' tea on Sundays

beware the patrol car on the prowl

beware the crowd of good white people

beware the cowl beneath the scowl 

there are monsters at night

monsters stand round your bed

monsters in the daylight

monsters in the little things they said

beware the quota and the red line

beware the diminisher of dreams

beware the doubt beneath the surface

beware the is beneath the seems

beware the simple routine questioning 

beware the lineup at the fence

beware the cameras malfunctioning

beware the miraculous evidence 

unwholesome man

[[ A hard-drinking wife-beating 'unwholesome' man is executed by the community but comes back as a zombie to have one last drink at the local saloon with his wife, then walks back to the cemetery. Yeah. Call and response. Maybe two singers alternating on most lines, maybe overlapping like an echo. ]]

unwholesome man

(unwholesome man)

he was a man would

(he was a man would)

take a fist to his woman

take a bottle to his bed

take a fist to his woman

take a bottle to his bed

take a fistful of dream

stick it all in his head

they said that man's an animal

they said put a man down

they said that man's an animal

they said put a man down

next day it fell on a Thursday  

next day sheriff put him in the ground

unwholesome man...

take a fist to his woman...

sheriff put him in the ground

that man he dug himself out again

that man stood under the moon

that man he dug himself out again

that man stood under the moon

that man could smell it was Friday

man walked to the local saloon

unwholesome man...

take a fist to his woman...

sheriff put him in the ground

dead man walked back to town

that man had a penny on his left eye 

that man had a penny on his right

that man had a penny on his left eye 

that man had a penny on his right

that man slid a penny to the barman  

bar man said you drink all night

unwholesome man...

take a fist to his woman...

sheriff put him in the ground

man walked back to town

man bought another round

that man stood next to his woman

woman said I've nothing to say 

that man stood next to his woman

woman said I've nothing to say 

that man knocked back his last whisky

said I'll see you on Judgment Day

unwholesome man...

take a fist to his woman...

sheriff put him in the ground

man walked back to town

man bought another round

never made another sound

walked back out of town

a child of all things

See this picture?

My friend was born here

here in this place

here in the photo

of a woman who is running for her life

from a child of all things.

See this map?

They've changed the name

name of the city

name of the nation

but the killing? that never changes -

it's a thing summer brings.

|| :  It's never finished -- 

the things they did here --

they are never done. : ||

Listen at the window,

listen at the door --

voices of people

who lived here before:

our houses are stolen,

our temples are burned,

every stone in our burial

ground overturned

or  ||: stolen away, every stone, every stone : ||

But this is the book of life -

If you're in the book of life -

You're safe in the book of life.

Between you and me

we've [weave] a secret to keep

between here and there

there's a spark in the gap

we keep the secret

we talk the tongue

we still are still


[[ this one started with a picture from WWII of a Jewish woman running for her life from a mob, including a little kid. ]]

sharpening

[[ it's all figurative -- talk in the kitchen at a party, right? right? ]]

we're in the kitchen

sharpening wits

honing the edges

of our slicy bits

taking our knives out

steel and bone

dragging each edge along

sharpening stone

pushing our knives in

steel and bone

stop when we find ourselves

all alone

pulling our knives out

steel and bone

calling a taxi on
a dead man's phone

Whisky, whores, and gold (fuck this town)

[[ is it a Broadway song or a country song or a folk song? ]] 

Why should a man 

dig potatoes 

all day 

in these fields,

when there's gold 

to be dug 

from the ground? 

Why should a man 

hitch his wagon 

to the neighbor's 

pale girl,

when he could swing

a new dancer 

each night?

Why should a man 

grind out his life

in these 

four square walls,

when he could ride 

a straight line

till he's gone?

Why should a man

spend his days

signing checks

in this town,

when he could go

give a mountain

his name?

[[ first the noble-sounding stuff... ]] 

Ride 

with the morning behind you

Ride 

with the night in your eyes

Die 

with the stars rolling over your bones, but

Live

under infinite skies

[[ ...but then cut to the truth ]]

Course there's gold and whores and whisky,

Whores and whisky and gold.
Wouldn't want a girl to miss me

Wouldn't be a man to be told

All I want is whores and whisky

Give me whisky and whores
And gold.

I'm going out west, 

Cause fuck this town.

I will strike a match

I will burn it down

Fuck the thirteen colonies

Right from Maine on down

Fuck every city 
to the Mississippi

But, most of all, 
fuck this town.

I can't say I'm not going to miss you

I can't say I won't look around

But I can't stay another damned minute

Or I swear I will burn this place down

two dirt roads

Let's take a walk: 

here was the church,  

here was the bridge, 

here was the tavern, 

as fine a road 

as you could walk

on any other day

Rest your head 

here in this meadow, 

each leaf and flower 

once was a soldier 

as fine a man 

as you could meet

on any other day

Come Judgment Day,   

how many souls

will stand up in this meadow

rise up into the air

and straight into the sun?

Come Judgment Day,

how many souls

will walk out of this river

rise up into the sky

and burn gold in the sun?

The names they call 

these places now

could never say

what happened here

Here in this place,

a crumbled church,

a broken bridge, 

a burning tavern, 

at the meeting 

of two dirt roads

as fine a road

as you could walk

on any other day

you might have met

your oldest friend

come the other way

at the meeting

of two dirt roads  

Come Judgment Day,   

how many souls

will stand up in this meadow

rise up into the air

and straight into the sun?

Come Judgment Day,

how many souls

will walk out of this river

rise up into the air

and burn gold in the sun?

Come Judgment Day,

how many souls

will stand and stare  

at the meeting of two dirt roads?

how many souls

will stand and stare

at the meeting of two dirt roads?

How far apart

Did you see that flash?

Was it just the lightning?

Or are the bombs

coming down again?

Did you hear that sound?

Was it only thunder?

Or are the guns 

coming round again?

Can you count the seconds

between the flash and the thunder?

And wonder

how far away?

And wonder

what comes today?

How far apart are

the flash and the thunder? 

How far apart are

the flesh and the wonder? [[ the body and the mind, the base instincts and the higher instincts and reasoning ]]

all bam boo

There were spiders in the tunnels,
there were phantoms in the air,
and the villages rose up
like they were made to burn.

( it was all
bam
boo

It was stone
on stone

It was us
and jungle

It was us
and alone )

We dropped out of the sky,
we kept the motor running,
we cut a hole in their world
and watched them all pour out.

( it was all
bam
boo... )

Women all came running
Holding children, burning,
We weren't afraid of dying
as much as going home.

( it was all
bam
boo... )

The world and his uncle
came with everything,
and we were all long gone,
but it followed us home.

( it was all
bam
boo... )

We were spiders in the tunnels,
We were phantoms in the air,
and the villagers rose up
like we were made to burn.

[[ This is a war song. Soldiers destroy a country and then the war follows them home one way or another. I started with Vietnam - Phantom jets and napalmed children -- but it could almost as easily be Iraq or any other asymmetric war of the last half century or so. ]]