Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Dreams and { Missed the Boat }

I just woke up from a much-needed nap wherein i dreamed of my momma's southern cookin':  chipped-beef gravy, fried green tomatoes, mashed potatoes and gravy, the way she smooshes bacon as it fries, so it stays flat and gets nice and crispy.  But especially the chipped-beef gravy.  It's worth dreaming about.

I've had food on the mind all day; not sure why.  I've been day-dreaming about Thanksgiving dinner for several hours.  I can taste the stuffing, dripping with gravy.  I'm sure it's all symbolic of the comforts of home.  Such a big part of me wants to be packing boxes for a move back home to Virginia.  Todd and i hoped it would happen in October, but too many bills and other necessities have come up and our savings is (as usual) non-existent.  Plus i just signed a commercial photography contract for an event on November 20, so i know we'll still be here to honor that. 

Oooohhhhhh Virginia.  You're so near me, i can feel the weather getting ready to change to fall.  I can smell the country air and see the dappled light streaming through canopies of trees as i drive along twisty, winding roads, up and over hills, beside long fences lining farmland.  I'm trying so hard not to have regrets.  Todd is trying, too.  He blames himself that we're stuck in the brown dirt, but it's not his fault. 

while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now?
i was knocking on your ear's door, but you were always out
looking towards the future, we were begging for the past
well we know we had the good things but those never seemed to last
oh please just last

everyone's unhappy, everyone's ashamed
well we all just got caught looking at somebody else's page
well nothing ever went quite exactly as we planned
our ideas held no water but we used them like a dam
oh and we carried it all so well
as if we got a new position
oh and i'll laugh all the way to hell
saying "yes this is a fine promotion"
oh and i'll laugh all the way to hell

\of course everyone goes crazy over such and such and such
we made ourselves a pillar, we just used it as a crutch
we were certainly uncertain at least i'm pretty sure i am
well we didn't need the water, but we just built that good goddamn

oh and i know this of myself
i assume as much for other people
oh and i know this of myself
we've listened to more of life's end gong than the sound of life's sweet bells
was it ever worth it was there all that much to gain
well we knew we'd missed the boat and we'd already missed the plane
we didn't read the invite we just danced at our own wake

all our favorites were playing so we could shake shake shake shake shake
tiny curtains opened and we heard the tiny clap of little hands
a tiny man would tell a little joke and get a tiny laugh from all them folks
and drifting around on bubbles and thinking it was us that carried them
when we finally got it figured out that we had truly missed the boat

oh and we carried it off so well
as if we got a new position
oh and we own all the tools ourselves
without the skills to make a show with
oh what useless tools ourselves

1 holla'd back:

Chris said...

Well, if it's any consolation, it was pretty warm and un-autumny here last year (to me, anyway, but I'm a fanatical purist about how I like my autumns). I was wearing shorts and t-shirts until around Thanksgiving. This will never happen when I am king, I can tell you that.

As long as you're stuck in the brown dirt, though, perhaps this will help make it a little more tolerable: Chris Clarke is one of my favorite writers, currently based in the Mojave desert. Maybe his writing can add a little poetic luster to desert life for you and help pass the time until you make it back here.

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