Home Records

I came up with one ingenious solution too late, one too dim, one for the ages and one only as long as the tape stays sticky. I'd like to say I'm flying across the water because it sure feels like there's a much bigger gulf between here and there, but a corner of Lake Michigan ain't really no beach at all.

I don't care that there's only one song I want to hear when I'm cooking alone, because there's only one song for rainy-afternoon crêpe shop and future Catholic-school dropouts, always the kids the most fun to know. Later on it's going to start flooding and we'll all be knee-deep in New Orleans and a few other places besides, but I'm going to curl in Michael's bed and cry and watch college boys sail a kiddie pool through the street. "Do you consider yourself the, the s-word?" asks the other Michael, Michael I'll get yet. The what? Good God, young man, I'm just a jaded vixen.

That was your word, Mariah, no? Tell them I'm jetting off regardless, north to see clean snow and Paul, lamblike, freshly shorn and too deep in grass. I won't be warm again for months.

I changed my tickets to window seats, so I can lean and peer and watch Orion fade away over the lights of the city. I suppose trains overhead could be so surreal if you're not used to getting off the ground, but I am one of all things and for $2.25 I could go, go to her doorstep right from the terminal end of the blue line. This is how a city is supposed to run, you know: bright in the dark, brave in the cold, square on the grid, tall in the wind.

How is it that we come by our sense of height? Is it the purity of the sun, the balance within our skull, or just the clear sky through the glass?

I don't care 'cause I'm by myself
All the dancers left but I can't dance
So I will stay and clean the mess they left behind
But I dream as I set to scrub all the floors, the walls
I'm thinking of a song or two, a boy, a girl, and a rendezvous
- Belle & Sebastian, "Woman's Realm"