Sometimes I have words to explain things & other times I don’t. This past week I was trying to expose myself to as much yellow as possible in the hopes that it would give me more practical forms of intelligence, but I don’t think it worked. I sat for long periods in front of a yellow light & afterwards just found that all the words had been knocked out of me. I’m not sure why. Probably just because yellow is so different from what I normally think about that I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
So that is my excuse for not being able to give you any meaningful explanations for this song. Really though, it might have more to do with the nature of the song and not so much to do with yellow.
Hold me by the wrist.
Hold me to the ground.
Watch the world it flies
Spinning round and round.
Tell me what you know.
Tell me everything.
Pressed into a box.
Pressed into a ring.
See clouds that fly.
See them flying free.
That third one is I-
Do you recognize me now?
Their reflections fly
Flowing down the stream
Round my ankles I
Need you to release me now.
In the mirror there,
I saw you again
Like a foggy man
Close behind me then
Pressing into me
Your two hands were tied.
We’re in this world now
Like the square it binds.
Catch a bird that flies
Slice him into three.
Like a man he dies-
Do you understand me now?
Capture any bird
Capture anything
The relentless claw-
Do you understand me now?
When I heard your words
They were only sounds
Tying up my brain
Filling it with brown.
And my heart was tied
Like an animal too.
Our words weren’t the same
How could I explain to you?
Something isn’t right.
Something spinning wrong.
Shapes are scratching now.
Not where I belong.
Every cloud that flies
Breaking up in threes
Meaning something dies
Will you recognize me now?
This is a song sung by a person who has been murdered. She is singing to her parents who are searching for her, not knowing if she is still alive. It is based on real events. 🙁
I hate dark & scary things. That is why I sometimes write songs about them. Songs can spin bad things out of this reality into another one. For the same reason, I rarely write songs about good things, for fear that I might accidentally spin them out of this world.
Here is the lyrics. That is wrong grammar, right? but I am so tired of good grammar. What has it ever done for me? I just want grammar to match the way I feel. But there are people who judge intelligence by adherence to proper form. I know you aren’t that way, and it is part of why I like you so much.
But I do fear the judgments of others. Mostly, because I don’t feel confident in my ability to survive in this world. Maybe one day I will be walking the streets without food or shelter and the judgments people have of my value will be the only thing standing between me and death.
So, for the sake of survival I try to be dignified. But it is a heavy load to bear. Sometimes I wish I could be free- but you know where freedom leads- straight to the homeless shelter. Or the insane asylum. I also have a fear of being locked up in a mad house, with people using my own words to prove that I am out of my mind. It is a very easy thing for me to imagine.
Did I tell you about the time I was accused of wanting to murder a gigantic man and taken to be evaluated by psychiatrists who viewed my “eccentricities” (such as nail polish & proclivity for walking) as signs of a murderous personality? Did I tell you about the time I was said to have raped a gigantic woman? How would I even do these things and why? I don’t know. But what I do know, is that if you seem different somehow, it is easy for others to project whatever meanings they like onto these differences.
If you want to stay safe, dignity is the best choice. But it is a heavy load to bear.
*
Push through trees at night you’ll never Find the one you’ll love forever. Some die, some don’t; some will, some won’t Follow me & I will show you.
Come find me, keep in mind we won’t be coming home- I am bone.
Shine a flashlight on the dark ground Time changes thing until they can no longer be found. I once swore to go before you Follow me & I will show you.
Come find me, keep in mind we won’t be coming home- I am bone.
When they scream you’ll know they’ve found me Terror and shock they will surround me. Don’t shake don’t cry, I am nearby Follow me and I will show you.
Come find me, keep in mind we won’t be coming home- I am bone.
I wish I could dive head first into a pool of mud. Can you even imagine how amazing that would feel?
Following fire, half-deranged by desire Like a zombie I walk through the night. Every dark alleyway, every car breakaway Leads in my fantasy somewhere so bright.
Reason, morality- never my gifts;
I had the gift of belief.
I light a fire for you, filled with desire for you-
I know you see. I know you see.
Fire in the sky if you let him come by
I will pay you back for all that you’ve given me.
Pay you with blood, it’s the ruby of God,
I will open myself to you, please!
Following fire, melted down by desire
And the star that I follow is hope.
Making me pay like a knife every day-
I know you won’t, I know you won’t.
Lighting a candle for you every night
Cause I know you are drawn to the flame.
I see your spirit a butterfly flicker-
You won’t cause me pain, you won’t cause me pain.
Fire in the sky if you let him come by
I will pay you back for all that you’ve given me.
Pay you with blood, it’s the ruby of God
I will open myself to you, please!
Lighting a fire, half-deranged by desire
And the stars that are drawing me high.
Thinking of you, like a fire you can burn away
Hands on my throat, lay down or die.
Holding my finger right next to the candle wick-
Strong is the thing I must be,
Just until I can draw you to my flame.
You won’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me.
I really do love the “The Public” which in astrology is represented by the moon. The Public is a romantic, silvery ooze of limitless possibility. Best of all- from this undifferentiated mass- beings of gold can sometimes appear.
I was really looking forward to writing a blog post today. I could see clearly in every direction. It was going to be a tell-all.
But- due to adding a hundred new facebook friends and writing a flurry of posts- I ended up with so many balls to my head that I could hardly think. Nor could I draw these balls because there were just too many of them. All I could do was to squint my eyes against the pressure and attempt to clean the house while waiting for it to pass. But sometimes balls make me so dizzy it is hard to do physical things. I end up just throwing a towel over my head and waiting for it to pass.
The thing is, I love interacting with people so much. If only there was a way to interact without head balls. It is especially challenging to interact with new people. Sometimes they have spiritual problems to which I’m not yet immune. Spiritual problems are those which warp your perspective on life and make you feel bad about it. Or bad about yourself. The more a person has spiritual problems the more angry they tend to be. They frequently try to push onto others the ideas that are causing them pain. So their balls tend to cause greater disturbance.
Some balls can be refreshing though. They contain wavelengths that can heal your problems without a word being said. They can counteract the noxious influence of bad balls. Once you know someone, and are familiar with their balls, whether they are good or bad doesn’t matter so much. You can get hit with their bad feelings out of the blue, but then easily dismiss them because you know what they are.
Why do these balls hit me on the top of my head though? When my husband interacts with people, I have noticed their energy tends to get lodged in his intestinal area, causing him stomach pain.
Probably because I walk around with a head like an empty bucket, waiting for someone else to tell me what life is about and make sense of it all for me. I know this is wrong, but it is a hard habit to break. Once upon a time- 7 years ago to be exact- I thought everyone was honest and also a sage. I let their ideas go straight to the center of my brain.
Now I realize people are liars & dumb, too. Well, maybe not liars exactly, but plants reaching for the sun. We say whatever it takes to get that sweet sunshine on our face. And maybe not dumb exactly- I still think it takes an insane amount of intelligence to navigate daily life- but let’s get real- we are sheeple. We share the beliefs of those around us so we can belong to a fuzzy wuzzy herd. It feels so good to feel their soft cotton balls rubbing against our cloud of wool.
And really that is the same reason why I open my head like a vessel to receive the thoughts of others. At first it feels so good when they put their thoughts inside. It makes me feel connected, but I’m sure it is the wrong way of going about things.
Step softly now
See their hooded eyes
Keep us close at hand
You may need our quick advice.
But everybody’s watching you
They got a lot to say
Just keep their words within a jar
We’ll open it one day.
After all
Life was never meant to be your home.
Life was never nothing but the road you chose to take.
Step softly now
Feel the hidden hand
Through the bushes it extends to you
The outline of a man.
Then he says “Hide! Duck!
Back up against the van where they can’t see you
Crawl over to the shadows where we’re waiting
For we may be the only ones who need you.”
After all
Life was never meant to be your home.
Life was never nothing but the road you chose to take.
And how do you feel now?
Standing on your own
Like a column made of fire
A feeling that you could be quite alone?
Move swiftly now
Don’t believe you have a friend
They just like to watch you trip and fall
They’ll push you down again.
So quickly run back
Into the alleyway where they can’t see you
Press up against a tree and we will be there
Perhaps we are the only ones who need you.
After all
Life was never meant to be your home.
Life was never nothing but the road you chose to take.
Following fire, half-deranged by desire
Like a zombie I walk through the night.
Every dark alleyway, every car breakaway
Leads in my fantasy somewhere so bright.
Reason, morality- never my gifts;
I had the gift of belief.
I light a fire for you, filled with desire for you-
I know you see. I know you see.
Fire in the sky if you let him come by
I will pay you back for all that you’ve given me.
Pay you with blood, it’s the ruby of God,
I will open myself to you, please!
Following fire, melted down by desire
And the star that I follow is hope.
Making me pay like a knife every day-
I know you won’t, I know you won’t.
Lighting a candle for you every night
Cause I know you are drawn to the flame.
I see your spirit a butterfly flicker-
You won’t cause me pain, you won’t cause me pain.
Fire in the sky if you let him come by
I will pay you back for all that you’ve given me.
Pay you with blood, it’s the ruby of God
I will open myself to you, please!
Lighting a fire, half-deranged by desire
And the stars that are drawing me high.
Thinking of you, like a fire you can burn away
Hands on my throat, lay down or die.
Holding my finger right next to the candle wick-
Strong is the thing I must be,
Just until I can draw you to my flame.
You won’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me.
I feel like something is off with my nerves. While walking down the sidewalk (in daylight), a jogger passed by saying “Excuse me” and I let a blood curdling scream rip into his ears. I didn’t mean to. He didn’t like it. Then a bicyclist rode by on the opposite side of the street, and I accidentally screamed at him as well.
Next, while standing alone with a candle in my hand, I suddenly smashed the candle as hard as I could against the ground. Glass flew everywhere & it broke a window too. (Oopsy!) I don’t know why I did it. My hand just moved faster than my brain could think. Now my recording room is filled with glass and James won’t let me in there since he is convinced I can’t clean it up without getting cut.
After that, I accidentally topped James’s pasta with a thick layer of salt rather than Parmesan cheese. And to make things more bizarre, I discovered I was wearing two pairs of shorts at the same time, one on top of the other. Somehow I hadn’t noticed.
Something is off. But what to do? I secretly tried cleaning the recording room and now my feet feel as though they are filled with glass though that is probably imagination. I have no paper left or else I would draw a picture of a man masturbating in a glass chamber, or maybe a picture of someone bleeding through the hands.
Many things have me unnerved at the moment. One is an incident from the other night. I was taking Slippers out & a car approached, slowing down as it came near me then parking. It gave me the creeps.
James came outside because he had gotten a bad feeling. He walked up to the car but they didn’t see him because they were looking towards me, with one man talking on the phone. He was telling someone that I had my dog with me. Once they saw James they zoomed off.
James thinks they were just random men up to no good and not looking for me specifically. But so many people have come looking for me in the past that I am a little paranoid. Just thinking about it makes my kidneys bubble.
I might be slightly disturbed by my little #metoo moment as well. The fact that none of the very liberal organizations, such as his record label, gave even a cursory response to my story (posted in reply to their tweets about his deep humanity) makes me realize the whole #metoo thing was completely fake. No one cares about sexual assault anymore than they ever have.
Not that I expect them to. Why should they care? This is their golden moment to sell records and selling records is their job- not social justice. But why do people have to fake care? I don’t think it is right to use social issues for personal elevation & branding, especially if you aren’t willing to put out when they land in your own backyard. It would be less confusing if people could just be honest about their true motivations. But why should they be? Wars were never won through transparency.
And what are values really, but the flags we wave to signal tribal affiliation? That is another thing that has been weighing on me- realizing the central role tribes play in human life while also realizing that I have no tribe and probably never will.
Tribes are everything though. Consider music. A musician’s value is judged by how much access they have to the tribes who run the music business. A performer at the Grammy’s is ‘talented’, even if you don’t personally like them. They have a recognized social value. They can trade on this value for resources & protection.
What makes the musical tribes- such as record labels- a little sinister is their efforts to convince people that they are a distillation of America’s best talent, and anything outside their glossy grip is not worth listening to. It is lower tier music that couldn’t make the cut. When in reality these record companies are just families- tribes- with the resources to buy lots of makeup for their members.
Once upon a time, when I thought getting a record contract was important, I submitted blank cds to them, because I had a suspicion the submission process was a sham (I already had experience with this sort of thing from my time in the art world.)
And of course, they all sent me back polite rejection letters, telling me that my music was not what they were looking for. So why lie? Because they need to pretend to be meritocracies in order to monopolize people’s musical imaginations. They need to pretend they have already searched out the “good” music so people won’t feel the need to search for themselves. This lie hurts music.
So, anyway, I guess feelings of mounting threats along with a growing awareness of my precarious position in society has me feeling on edge. Or maybe it is something else entirely. The problem is, when you are blogging with your actual name you are doomed to share only the most superficial aspects of your life. I wish I had thought of that from the beginning. I would have given myself the name Lacey Pendleton and she would do a complete Tell All. That would be paradise. But instead I am forever stuck in the gray zone, balancing an urge to express with a need to survive.
Oppossums have been showing up everywhere. Does that mean anything? This one is in the back yard. It is pregnant & you can see the curly little baby tails hanging beneath her stomach.
