A song about a nun. I used to consider myself a nun, of sorts, though not in the spiritual or celibate sense. More in the sense of someone who practices restriction and self-torture (read more about it here.)
But now I am not a nun of any sort. I am a housekeeper. I make corn bread and other corn foods day and night. Corn is my life. It is the only world I know.
And in that way, I still relate to the feelings of the song. Limitation, confinement, repetition, Saturn.
“Yet in that dark street shineth the Everlasting Light.”
Because it is when life has become so still, so boring, so dull that you’re certain you’re going to throw up, that you begin to feel the Light that Lives behind Things shining through.
Slippers, wearing one of James’s shirts. I would like to dress her up in my clothes, but her torso is too large.
And for those who like lyrics…
I loved a man named Joe,
I loved a man named Joe,
but he became a confederate soldier & went to war.
la la la la la la
I became a nun; I became a nun
at the pink cross nunnery, the pink cross nunnery.
la la la la la la
Now every day I watch the sun & count my rosary.
Now every day I watch the sun & count my rosary.
la la la la la la la la la.
I used to say hail mary’s
for three years I said hail mary’s,
but then I stopped,
and now I count from one ten.
These days I count from one to ten.
I have me a husband now and Jesus is his name.
Don’t know what I lost with Joe; I just know what I’ve gained.
Don’t know what I lost with Joe; I just know what I’ve gained.
And Jesus is his name, y’all. Jesus is his name
A song about kings, as we approach the month of kings. Sometimes I think the whole winter is the time of kings, it is so solemn and intent on not letting anyone have fun. Plus, it is a time when the amount of money you have comes to the forefront.
Probably due to the fact that Pluto- the dark God of the underworld- has recently entered my House of Money, money has become a subject of interest for me. Not actually making it, of course. More like bringing it up in conversations to make people squirm. Nothing is more deliciously taboo than money, not even sex.
Why is money taboo? Well, when you are poor you can’t let anyone know, or they will realize you are powerless and treat you with less respect. And when you are rich, you can’t let anyone know or they will try to take your money. I find all of that incredibly exciting.
Another thing I love about money is how it allows you to perform simple tests to find out if others care about you (hint: they don’t.) People throw words of love at each other all the time, but how many will back up their words with cold hard cash? Of course, you have to be careful when running these tests, because there are people in the world who are truly generous and still don’t care about you. And some who are generous just long enough to hook their fish. But still, I think it is a good idea to ask your friend for $100 dollars every now and then, and if they say no, never talk to them again.
And now I am remembering all the times friends asked me for money & I said no. I always said no, because I hate to give people money… maybe this is not a good test after all. I am not greedy, you know. In fact, I doubt I have based a single life choice around gaining money (unfortunately.) But I am stingy. Once I get a dollar bill in my hand, I don’t want to let it go. And a true friend would never ask me to.
Money, gifts, and shiny balls… come to Julien now!!!
Stars that watch me from above
Stars that watch from within dreams
Everything I knew of love
Turned much darker than it seemed.
Oh God those stars around my head I let him
Lead me to a bed just like a golden flame, golden flame.
Fumble with my hands, I need something to help me
Stand so I can hold myself to the blade.
I never wanted to be anything like free
I only wanted something kind
But when you took me by the wrist that is the time I changed my mind.
Things that happen in the dark
In the alley down below
Where you’re not supposed to be
Where the good men never go .
But I must find the kitchen sink I need to have another
Drink this is no time to cry, time to cry.
Angels in the air we’ll gather for another
Prayer and then we’ll say goodbye, say goodbye.
I never wanted to be anything like free
I only wanted something kind
But when you took me by the wrist that is the time I changed my mind.
I read the book line by line
Men like women but not all the time
Because women travel in the dark
Women have no friends at all
We just take our greasy hands
Lay them right against the wall.
I saw a man upon the hill he tapped his hat to me
I smiled and that was my mistake, my mistake.
Angels can you stay I’ll need someone to
Pray upon my bones when they break, when they break.
I never wanted to be anything like free
I only wanted something kind
But when you took me by the wrist that is the time I changed my mind.
I only ever wanted someone who could feel me
Someone I could follow from behind
But when you took me by the wrist that is the time I changed my mind.
A not happy selfie. Are those taboo? Although- as I mentioned earlier- I am terrified of photos, the one exception is that if I am very upset I will take a photo of myself crying. I don’t know why. Pain witnessed is pain reduced, I suppose, and sometimes you have to be your own witness.
A video which reminds me that I should probably trim my hair, organize my kitchen & play my guitar more carefully, but no- these things will never happen.
I don’t really believe in female instrumentalists, for starters. I always thought I hated male instrumentalists as well, until I recently discovered David Rawlings & Stevie Ray Vaughn & both of them blew me away. Normally, I hate listening to people play guitar. What could be more nauseating than a pointless guitar solo followed by audience applause? But these 2 guys just have something inside of them that comes out through their fingers and it touches me, I don’t know where or why.
I noticed David Rawlings also uses the same pink capo as me. That is where the similarity ends, of course, but do I care? No. I don’t aspire to be something more than I am. I think the crude & rustic will have a seat right next to the skilled & refined at God’s table.
The hill was high, I couldn’t climb
though I knew you were there.
A world of green surrounded me
it stretched out everywhere.
So I got back in my car and drove
to try and find a home.
I thought of you, the whole way through
it made me feel alone.
I thought of you and of the field
with the hill that was so high.
A temple built to something
that lives only in the sky
Everything is always high
and always far away.
I tell myself I must never stop and
I will get there someday.
Many gods and many men
have lived upon a crest.
Though the clouds pass over all of them
it is you I like the best.
All these hills and all these gods
and each man has his own.
Except for me, a tiny breeze
still searching for a home.
A tiny breeze who when she flies
is cut down by the winds.
They slice my heart and splay it
like a butterfly and then
Then I can scale these hills, but even so
my shadow looms so small
that to you it was just the same as though
I was never there at all.
Big men shadow over me
there is no other way
than to watch them with admiring eyes
through a film of gray.
For me there can be no other way for me
than to lie back on the ground
and to let the dreams wash over me
until a home is found.
A home that could be anywhere,
a home so hard to find.
Oh God, but please let it be somewhere real
not somewhere in my mind.
Someplace real, someplace strong
mountainous and grave
nothing flimsy like a butterfly
with her wings upon your leg.
Everyone has gods upon
these hills where claddows fly.
Except for me, I have only you
and only in my mind.
I reached for you, but there was no use
the world was large and green.
It stretched out wide and endlessly
like the sky within a dream.
And who am I, but a dot so small
that no one else could see
as you passed me by invisibly
your shadow touching me?
As you passed me by just like a plant
pressed flat upon the ground
just a thing too small to be cared about
when hills are all around.
