The alarm went off this morning but I kept sleeping, though the radio was still playing. I was in that sleep/wake state that you have early in the morning when you really are not prepared to face the day -- sort of wishful sleeping.
I was still in that state when NPR began its story on the hypothetical Supreme Court case, McCain v. Obama. It is a project going at some university to help clarify election law in case of a 2000-esque result in the upcoming election. (I think that was what it was, I was asleep).
But as I lay there asleep, absorbing the story on the radio, I was convinced, CONVINCED, that it was the day after election day and we were still waiting for results. I really believed that. The weird thing about it was how it made me feel -- so scared and sad. Somehow deep in my sleep, I recognized all of those awful memories and feelings from 2000. The aftermath of that election was just the worst, most divisive time for our country, and even in my sleep I knew I didn't want to go through it again.
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I have so much joie de vivre that if I were a character in a Hollywood movie I'd only have six months to live.
I have so much joie de vivre that if I were a character in a Hollywood movie I'd only have six months to live.
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You Might Also Enjoy
"Comin' Through the Rye," by Robert Burns
1. O, Jenny's a' weet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry:
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!
Chorus:
Comin thro' the rye, poor body,
Comin thro' the rye,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!
2. Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?
Chorus
3. Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need the warl' ken?
Chorus
4. Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the grain;
Gin a body kiss a body,
The thing's a body's ain.
Chorus
5. Ev'ry Lassie has her laddie,
Nane, they say, have I,
Yet all the lads they smile on me,
When comin' thro' the rye.
Chorus
"Jenny Kissed Me," by Leigh Hunt
Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in:
Say I’m weary, say I’m sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I’m growing old, but add
Jenny kissed me.
"Pirate Jenny," lyrics by B. Brecht, music by K. Weill
You people can watch while Im scrubbing these floors
And Im scrubbin the floors while youre gawking
Maybe once ya tip me and it makes ya feel swell
In this crummy southern town
In this crummy old hotel
But youll never guess to who youre talkin.
No. you couldnt ever guess to who youre talkin.
Then one night theres a scream in the night
And youll wonder who could that have been
And you see me kinda grinnin while Im scrubbin
And you say, whats she got to grin?
Ill tell you.
Theres a ship
The black freighter
With a skull on its masthead
Will be coming in
You gentlemen can say, hey gal, finish them floors!
Get upstairs! whats wrong with you! earn your keep here!
You toss me your tips
And look out to the ships
But Im counting your heads
As Im making the beds
Cuz theres nobody gonna sleep here, honey
Nobody
Nobody!
Then one night theres a scream in the night
And you say, whos that kicking up a row?
And ya see me kinda starin out the winda
And you say, whats she got to stare at now?
Ill tell ya.
Theres a ship
The black freighter
Turns around in the harbor
Shootin guns from her bow
Now
You gentlemen can wipe off that smile off your face
Cause every building in town is a flat one
This whole frickin place will be down to the ground
Only this cheap hotel standing up safe and sound
And you yell, why do they spare that one?
Yes.
Thats what you say.
Why do they spare that one?
All the night through, through the noise and to-do
You wonder who is that person that lives up there?
And you see me stepping out in the morning
Looking nice with a ribbon in my hair
And the ship
The black freighter
Runs a flag up its masthead
And a cheer rings the air
By noontime the dock
Is a-swarmin with men
Comin out from the ghostly freighter
They move in the shadows
Where no one can see
And theyre chainin up people
And theyre bringin em to me
Askin me,
Kill them now, or later?
Askin me!
Kill them now, or later?
Noon by the clock
And so still by the dock
You can hear a foghorn miles away
And in that quiet of death
Ill say, right now.
Right now!
Then theyll pile up the bodies
And Ill say,
Thatll learn ya!
And the ship
The black freighter
Disappears out to sea
And
On
It
Is
Me
And Im scrubbin the floors while youre gawking
Maybe once ya tip me and it makes ya feel swell
In this crummy southern town
In this crummy old hotel
But youll never guess to who youre talkin.
No. you couldnt ever guess to who youre talkin.
Then one night theres a scream in the night
And youll wonder who could that have been
And you see me kinda grinnin while Im scrubbin
And you say, whats she got to grin?
Ill tell you.
Theres a ship
The black freighter
With a skull on its masthead
Will be coming in
You gentlemen can say, hey gal, finish them floors!
Get upstairs! whats wrong with you! earn your keep here!
You toss me your tips
And look out to the ships
But Im counting your heads
As Im making the beds
Cuz theres nobody gonna sleep here, honey
Nobody
Nobody!
Then one night theres a scream in the night
And you say, whos that kicking up a row?
And ya see me kinda starin out the winda
And you say, whats she got to stare at now?
Ill tell ya.
Theres a ship
The black freighter
Turns around in the harbor
Shootin guns from her bow
Now
You gentlemen can wipe off that smile off your face
Cause every building in town is a flat one
This whole frickin place will be down to the ground
Only this cheap hotel standing up safe and sound
And you yell, why do they spare that one?
Yes.
Thats what you say.
Why do they spare that one?
All the night through, through the noise and to-do
You wonder who is that person that lives up there?
And you see me stepping out in the morning
Looking nice with a ribbon in my hair
And the ship
The black freighter
Runs a flag up its masthead
And a cheer rings the air
By noontime the dock
Is a-swarmin with men
Comin out from the ghostly freighter
They move in the shadows
Where no one can see
And theyre chainin up people
And theyre bringin em to me
Askin me,
Kill them now, or later?
Askin me!
Kill them now, or later?
Noon by the clock
And so still by the dock
You can hear a foghorn miles away
And in that quiet of death
Ill say, right now.
Right now!
Then theyll pile up the bodies
And Ill say,
Thatll learn ya!
And the ship
The black freighter
Disappears out to sea
And
On
It
Is
Me
1 comment:
That very bizarre time of national crisis in 2000 is doubly seared into my consciousness because it was when my father was dying, as well. I spent every day at the hospital with him, for some time, and the news was just so weird and so bizarre that it strongly penetrated to his hospital room, and even to his sharp, but now shattered, mind. My father had had one cerebral hemorrhage by this time, and his thoughts were mixed up. There's a story about that, but I now am inspired to post it on my own blog. Look there! Anyway, yes, that was a grey, static, weirdly oppressive time. And it gave birth to these last eight years of civic tragedy.
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