Slippers & I out and about, hoping to bump into some friends.
Hi there, it’s me! I feel like it would be rude if I didn’t, every now and then, step out from behind my songs and say hi as a person. I know some people prefer musicians to “shut up and sing,” but personally I find it a bit uncordial if someone keeps singing at me and never says hello. As they say in West Virginia, “Handshakes before hugs.”
Perhaps that is why I dislike concerts, as a rule. Not only are they extremely expensive (I prefer spending money on tangibles), not only are they cold, smelly, and impersonal, but I find it dull to watch a person perform for hours on end without ever removing the mask to reveal their self, if only for a moment.
Since musicians are supposed to like concerts, it took me a long time to admit how I really felt. Finally the day came when I had front row seats to a Roseanne Cash concert, but I stayed home to watch Columbo instead. It wasn’t like anyone was going to get murdered at her show. A couple weeks later, I had front row seats to a Justin Townes Earle show, but once again I couldn’t bring myself to go. I tried to give myself a pep talk- he’s a heroin addict, maybe something exciting will happen. But I couldn’t budge myself. I knew he would probably be on his best behavior, singing his songs without a hitch and making witty comments about the wonderful audience. Perhaps I am a bad person, or maybe just a Scorpio, but I find it so dull to watch someone put their best foot forward. I always want to see their worst foot. But professional musicians never seem to fall off the stage or forget their medication. What is the point then? If I just wanted to hear someone sing, I could take a shower.
*
At any rate, here is what is going on with me- nothing. My life is so boring that I feel a pang of awe that I am able to survive it uncrushed. A testament to the human spirit. The most exciting part of my day is walking Slippers and saying hello to the rotating cast of semi-wild dogs that join us. As I’ve mentioned before, Slippers used to be one of these roaming dogs until she got hit by a car and was going to be ‘put down.’ Back then her name was ‘Nasty.’ Because “Keepin’ it Nasty” is the unofficial slogan of our holler. At first, I wasn’t sure what it meant. I thought country people were supposed to be square, with rigid morals. Boy was I wrong! If it isn’t illegal for at least three reasons, they won’t even touch it around here. Especially when it comes to love.
I sort of admire their krazy spirits, but only from a distance, watching with binoculars from my window.
So why is my life so boring? Personally, I think it has less to do with isolation and more to do with geography. There are hills on all sides. If you want to see the sky you have to look straight up. Giant walls of earth pressing in on me from all directions, vibrating my body with their cold brown waves. It is the sort of feeling you get in a library, being surrounded by heavy books, except it’s brown rather than gray. I like to think it is making me strong. Maybe wise too.
No friends today, they were all hiding because of the flood and Slippers is pissed.
Little man look to the sky; the world is something blue.
Bridges rise and bridges fall; they will not hold for you.
Bridges rise and bridges fall; you doubt the things you’ve seen.
Did a man cry out in pain or was that just a dream?
Little man look to the sky and let your blue eyes burn.
Bridges rise and bridges fall; there is nowhere to turn.
People everywhere have thought the rain would never end;
Standing in the cold, that’s when they learned they had a friend.
Clouds descend upon you and they fill your eyes with white.
If it’s necessary to do something, you’d rather do what’s right.
Clouds descend upon you and you doubt the things you things you’ve seen.
Did a man cry out in pain or was that just a dream?
Clouds descend upon you, knock you down onto one knee.
Please don’t marry her, little man, you need more time to be free…
People everywhere have thought the rain would never end;
Standing in the cold, that’s when they learned they had a friend.
Winds blow in from everywhere they cut you day and night.
If it’s necessary to do something, you’d rather do what’s right.
Winds blow in from everywhere; they bring the scent of pine.
The world is something far away, a blue and icy line.
One day you will cross that line, uncertain what you’ve seen.
The images will swirl and fade like walking in a dream.
People everywhere have thought the rain would never end;
Standing in the cold, that’s when they learned they had a friend.
Almost everywhere, they thought the world would never end.
When the ending came, that’s when they knew they had a friend.
You are so soft and warm, dusted with flowers My face in the palm of your hand, I feel powerful Tell me again that you like my soft head I am an egg I will rest in your bed.
Hold me through nightshirts, hold me through pajama pants Hold me so tight I am forced to give up the dance Tie me to the bed and don’t let me escape from you Outside it’s cold, but you are my you are my
Pillowman dance, Pillowman sing Let me ride, let me ride in your basket that’s filled with the spring Hope will come again, that’s what they say to me Every green blade of grass bends down to pray for me
Filling my dreams with the scent of green fields A world so soft; a world where the obstacles will yield To a kind world, yield to a smile A plate full of cookies will persuade luck to stay for a while
Then I’ll walk back to a world that is cold Where the smiles and the cookies are all bought and sold But first leave me with something I can understand A scrap of pink flannel I’ll hide in my hand
Pillowman guard me, stand watch at my door Comfort me when I can’t comfort myself anymore When it hurts and they’re trying to charm me Knock on my door with intentions to harm me
I bury my face in your pillowy skin Breath through your pores and I feel peace descend To my brain like a powder that fills up my nose Is it true- everything comes and everything goes?
Just then the darkness begins to arise Surprised to find that someone realized That I I I I deserve to be befriended Your hands on my heart til the day it has mended
And as the black blood seeps into my brain Carrying the knowledge that made me go insane Black leather images bite me with fangs Held in your arms, I’m contorting with pangs
But Pillowman fights the past with his soft fists Pulls out his scalpel for the pieces of evil that resist Because I I I deserve to be defended My tears on his sleeve for the things that have ended
Head on your heart and your fuzz fills my ears Stroking my brain as it struggles with so many fears I wish I knew how not to be afraid But until then, Pillowman will be my friend.
Hunched in a field, you sing in deep voices The seeds and the soil of a world without choices Take off your clothes at the end of the day Lie down in a bed made of burlap and hay
The sun sinks, the sky pinks through your window so crude Your feet hard, your back scarred, your stomach needs food But you see your ancestors line up in brown You hear their solemn songs sung in a round
Voice so low, Voices so deep They crossed the ocean for you They crossed the ocean so you could arrive They never died.
Wiping your brow with the back of your brown hand Your eyes are like horses, they run across this land You see more than most, around corners and curves Your heavy mind stays when the lighter mind swerves
Steady and patient, heavy and kind Wearing brown pants made of burlap and twine Nose to the grindstone, monks of the dirt Callouses, sunsets, and visions that hurt
Voice so low, Voices so deep They crossed the ocean for you They crossed the ocean so you could arrive They never died.
Your eyes follow time when it curves round the bend You watch all the lighter ones run to destruction They were mistaken, they thought life had an end They ate all their seeds and then came to the bend
Shocked to discover the road just continued Forced to keep marching without any food You hear their cries and it makes your heart burn But how can you give to them the things they must earn?
Voice so low, Voices so deep They crossed the ocean for you They crossed the ocean so you could arrive They never died.
You know forever, you know eternity As plain as the table where you sit for your cup of tea You counsel your children to never waste seeds Life is long, you must be strong, persist in good deeds.
You tell them to remember when they labor in the fields To listen to the voices that sing in their ears To those who are patient all will be revealed Remember who you are, my sons- potatoes in a field.
Voice so low, Voices so deep They crossed the ocean for you They crossed the ocean so you could arrive They never died.
I don’t like microbes; please don’t touch my arm with your fingernails I’ve already thrown up in my own mouth three times today I twist and spin, still the world presses in like a gauzy veil Covers my eyes, lies, fuzzy, and white Voices smile, laugh, holding me tight to the ground I’ll survive Let me be- I’m not going outside Where the butterflies fly too far away to be seen Over the green.
I don’t like good people, they don’t feel what they say feel They’ll never give up their candy for children to eat They flit and shine as the world crumbles down to obey their will Buries me down, brown under their feet Hear me beg, cry, I know defeat- it’s alright I’ll survive Let me be- I’m not going outside Where the butterflies fly too far away to be seen Over the green.
Stick to the underside, shrug it off for the final time Spit out the silk line and follow it home.
I don’t like feeling that your brain is in this same building I’ll blank my my mind as I stare at a big empty screen A bag of chips and a diet coke; that’s all I need now You can poke, prod, urge me to live You can stare, scratch tell that that I must forgive I’ll survive Let me be, I’m not going alive
I will fight, bite, leave me alone Here to die, fly, I’m going home- it’s alright I’ll survive In a way, I’m already outside Where the butterflies fly too far away to be seen Over the green.
Tell me that you like my hat, walking through the garden path, filtered sun
Flowers sway in golden heat, smiling every time we meet, like we are one
But I know that you’re hard
And I know that you’re full of rain
And the ones you discard
I know they never walk again
Then I see you driving by, almost shy, black man against the sky, and my throat begins to shrink
Though everybody says you’re fine, benign, always smiling all the time, till I don’t know what to think
You gotta learn how to die
So why not look in your eyes
Polishing the silver bright, sparkle in the evening light, catch a smile
Hear a knock upon my door,should I answer it before you go wild
Cause I know you’ve been hard
And I know you’ve been full of rain
Standing there in my yard
Your eyes are soft and wandering
But then you catch me by surprise, oversize, black lightning from your eyes and I tell myself to run
But instead I turn and smile, denial, conversate with you a while till it starts to feel like fun
I know that everyone dies
So why not look in your eyes
Life is like an angry man, best to follow his command, don’t run and hide
See you standing hesitantly, why not have a cup of tea, come inside
Though I know that you’re hard
and I know that you’re full of rain
Still it lowers my guard
to see your brown hands trembling
But then you get me on the ground, hold me down, black spirits all around, till I don’t know what will break
And I try to spin my mind through a rhyme to another place in time, till my brain begins to shake
And then you say let’s have some fun, sticky bun, and you’re reaching for your gun, but I cannot feel your weight
Cause in my mind I’m out the door, zombie whore, shopping at the grocery store till you break my crazy eight.
I see feminism as being the natural, inflammatory response of a society that needs to flush out an excess of fashion designers.
Officially, feminism is about wage discrepancies and political power, yet it only seems to arise in places where women are made to feel neurotic about their physical appearance. Eventually, they reach a fork in the road where they either have to become a feminist or have that extra rib removed. By nature, women are designed to be sensitive towards what men think and feel about them. It hurts to feel that you aren’t perfectly beautiful and lovable the way god made you. And- even if you are a celebrated beauty- it hurts to feel beautiful only because you match certain objective standards that could be met by anyone. It makes you interchangeable, a commodity. I think people become feminists from the perception that men are shallow and incapable of true love, therefore it is dangerous to risk being dependent on them.
Here in West Virginia, there is really no feminism to speak of, but no need for it either. Thin or fat, old or young, neatly dressed or wild looking, the women seem unselfconscious about their appearance. They are confident that simply being alive and female will suffice to attract men to them. Judging by the number of children they have, it seems they are right. It is strange, but, while living here I have yet to hear a single man or woman praise or critique anyone’s appearance, including their own.
Of course this may stem from the fact that hillbillies devote less of their brain to imagining how other people see them in general, probably a necessary trait for thriving in secluded areas where admirers and applause are hard to come by. From what I can tell, they derive less pleasure from making a good impression, and less pain from making a bad one. Hence, the classic Appalachian front yard, filled with sofas, rusted pieces of metal, and semi-broken toys. Once I asked a neighbor about her landscaping style. She explained that storing junk in your front yard creates more space inside your house, and keeps the backyard free for games and picnics.
Putting your worst foot forward also creates a sort of protective psychological coating, similar to the No Tresspassing signs that adorn every property. It tells people upfront that you aren’t going to bend yourself out of shape to put on the ritz for them, and if they want a cup of sugar they should go elsewhere. Which is an important vibe to put off. Living in the same mountain crevice can get rather intimate and you really need to have a bit of a barbed wire feeling about you or your neighbors will be cleaning out your fridge before you know it.
But anyway, back to feminism….
The myth of sexism, I think, is that it flourishes among backwoods country people and square religious Midwesterners. My observations, however, have led me to believe the opposite, that sexism- like many contagious diseases- begins in the largest, most cosmopolitan cities who then export it through movies, music, and fashion to the rest of the country.
Of course, this depends on your definition of sexism. To some, sexism is defined by the genders having complementary roles rather than identical ones. To me, it is a mental disease that causes women to have low self-esteem which they then attempt to fortify through male approval. Sometimes they do this through excessive focus on their physical appearance, and sometimes through trying to adopt masculine traits that they don’t actually possess. The classic movie heroine, gunning people down in a leather bikini, would be doing both. In a non-sexist society, females can be pudgy and have no greater ambition in life than to create an “Under the Sea” theme for their child’s birthday party. And their husbands can feel very, very proud of them for doing this.
James is very proud of me for making this picture.
Of course, the urban worldview causes psychological stress to men as well. They may no longer feel that being a good husband and providing for their family is enough, but instead feel pressure to worm their way towards the top of the human pyramid. These pressures may also exist in the country, but they are not as strong. It is much less exhilarating to sit atop a tiny pyramid and much less painful to live at its bottom.
Which is why I don’t see sexism as being a problem, in and of itself, in our society. It is just one of the many inevitable side effects that occur when a whole cluster of people try to source their self-esteem from being better than each other. We could start a social movement to make all sexist sentiments go away, but since they would probably be replaced by ideas just as offensive, why bother?
On the other hand, while I don’t recommend trying to wipe it from the planet altogether, I do think there are two little steps we can take to diminish the power of sexism in our own spheres and thus render feminism unnecessary.
1) I think a number of “mental diseases” could be cured just by people expressing themselves more honestly and more frequently. One thing I have noticed with men especially, is that it tends to be the most obnoxious and also the most sexist of them (Donald Trump) who are always running their mouths, while the “better” men tend to remain quiet. This sometimes gives the impression that Trump’s thoughts are representative of men in general. As Edmund Burke said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
2) On a personal level, we should relish the poisonous ideas of our group mind to the extent that they spur us on towards greater mental independence. After kicking their babies out of the nest, eagles remove the soft filling to reveal a bed of thorns. When the little birds try to fly back to mommy and daddy, their bodies get cut up and bloodied. Likewise, our group mind is filled with ideas that tend to cut into our self-esteem, and the older you get, the less they seem to flatter you. Perhaps this is by design. These thorns push us, once we are ready, away from the mucoid comfort of conformity, and out into the big blue world to perceive and believe what no one else has before.
