(no subject)
Then I fell in love, with the most wonderful boy in the world.
We would take long walks by the river or just sit for hours gazing into each other's eyes.
We were so very much in love.
Then one day, he went away. And I thought I'd die -- but I didn't.
And when I didn't I said to myself, "Is that all there is to love?"
I never gave up on my blues. My dad had got me a ticket to see Koko Taylor when I was in middle school, said that he’d heard they were good. That night he went off and he did his thing and I was rocked by the Queen of the Blues. I was young and impressionable, sure, but when Wang Dang Doodle came on it was like making love, which I hadn’t done yet. But in hindsight, that’s what it seemed like. I’m pretty sure the song’s about a riot, or maybe just a hell of a party, and I’ve never made love to anyone so hard that it was like a riot. Hell of a party, sure.
Riots are a whole different situation. I’m not sure I’d even want to make love like a riot. Last riot I was in, people died. Like the sheriff of Russell County, he died in the middle of a riot in Phenix City. What the hell he was doing in the middle of a riot, no vest, no deputies around, not even anybody civilian watching, nobody will ever know. But there was no way the drug addled rioters were going to avoid shooting him, not if one of them had a gun. And that some stupid asshole on crystal meth managed to shoot the sheriff and get away with it, in the middle of the only real riot in the city since World War Two - it was beautiful. It even made national news, on some channels.
I didn’t find out that I’d actually killed him until the next day when they set the bail and let out the ones of us with people to speak - in the language of cash or cashier’s check - for us. Part of me was just convinced that it was a weird dream; you know how things are when you’re on drugs. Then that next day, my wife bailed me out and I stepped onto the curb, and I see the Montgomery Advertiser blaring: “STILL NO LEADS IN RIOT SHOOTING.” I was born a man. I might not have any skills and I might not be up to any good, but there is something out there, something that cares about me.
That something is my blues. I know this, because right at the moment that I found out that I’d gotten away with shooting the sheriff, my wife, the old lady, she drove by and I saw that she was gone and for good. She had timed my bail so that I’d leave in time for her to drive by, not even waving, with Shrimp’s head hanging out the window. Shrimp was my white lab and he would have been worth a couple of hundred per litter just to breed him, if the old lady hadn’t had his balls cut off six months into life. That’s how the blues is: it makes sure you know the price you paid.
The great things about wives when you have the blues is that you never really loved her anyway. I mean, I used to love her, but my heart goes to wild women, and the old lady wasn’t so wild any more. I’d been counting on her driving off for years, I’m frankly shocked she paid my bail. And now, now I’d get the chance to do one of those things I’d wanted to do since I’d been aware it was a possibility: It was like giving a kid an ice cream cone, a year’s subscription to Batman, waiting for him to see the ad for new the Six Flags roller coaster of the same name on the second page, and mentioning casually how we’d be going to Six Flags the next weekend.
Jess was on her way to something big, me and Jess both knew that. She’d been coming down and visiting me and the old lady for months now, sometimes with that asshole Johnny that she breaks up with all the time, sometimes without him. He never comes around without her, because he’s not actually in on any of our business and maneuvers. Johnny wasn’t headed anywhere, let me take the time to say. He’d dropped out two years ago, and hadn’t held down a real job since. Jess would give him some of what she brought back to Birmingham, and sometimes he’d manage to sell enough of it at whatever restaurant he was bussing dishes at to pretend he’d come out ahead. Maybe that’s what it was about him: Nobody actually thinks that meth is putting them ahead somehow. Nobody thinks that this is the kind of game you can win. Except Johnny, Johnny thinks that all the little crystals in his sinuses are somehow changing him from a boy into a man, something like that.
I know that I talk a lot about the blues like it’s some mystical experience. But I know damned well the blues aren’t for everyone. Like rap, much as I like some of it, I have to place firmly in the domain of Johnny. I figure Jess just kind of floats from one jazz in a foreign language to another. This week is probably salsa, next week’ll be samba. I don’t know what the Hong Kong variation of jazz is, but I’m sure it’s on the schedule sometime in the next two months. The old lady had never gotten over radio pop, whether it’s hits from the eighties or hits from today, she’d never given up on pop music.
And the gorgeous thing here, now that I’ve said more than you really wanted to hear, that thing you probably didn’t really want to know is: I was going to make love to Jess from the mid afternoon of the day after tomorrow until mid afternoon two days after that. I know, but things that seem trivial are important. It wouldn’t be summer without heat and humidity, and it wouldn’t be the blues without love. And even if you don’t care for or about lovemaking, it’s the blues, and you know things’ll get worse immediately after the fourth kiss.
Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball
If that's all there is
We would take long walks by the river or just sit for hours gazing into each other's eyes.
We were so very much in love.
Then one day, he went away. And I thought I'd die -- but I didn't.
And when I didn't I said to myself, "Is that all there is to love?"
I never gave up on my blues. My dad had got me a ticket to see Koko Taylor when I was in middle school, said that he’d heard they were good. That night he went off and he did his thing and I was rocked by the Queen of the Blues. I was young and impressionable, sure, but when Wang Dang Doodle came on it was like making love, which I hadn’t done yet. But in hindsight, that’s what it seemed like. I’m pretty sure the song’s about a riot, or maybe just a hell of a party, and I’ve never made love to anyone so hard that it was like a riot. Hell of a party, sure.
Riots are a whole different situation. I’m not sure I’d even want to make love like a riot. Last riot I was in, people died. Like the sheriff of Russell County, he died in the middle of a riot in Phenix City. What the hell he was doing in the middle of a riot, no vest, no deputies around, not even anybody civilian watching, nobody will ever know. But there was no way the drug addled rioters were going to avoid shooting him, not if one of them had a gun. And that some stupid asshole on crystal meth managed to shoot the sheriff and get away with it, in the middle of the only real riot in the city since World War Two - it was beautiful. It even made national news, on some channels.
I didn’t find out that I’d actually killed him until the next day when they set the bail and let out the ones of us with people to speak - in the language of cash or cashier’s check - for us. Part of me was just convinced that it was a weird dream; you know how things are when you’re on drugs. Then that next day, my wife bailed me out and I stepped onto the curb, and I see the Montgomery Advertiser blaring: “STILL NO LEADS IN RIOT SHOOTING.” I was born a man. I might not have any skills and I might not be up to any good, but there is something out there, something that cares about me.
That something is my blues. I know this, because right at the moment that I found out that I’d gotten away with shooting the sheriff, my wife, the old lady, she drove by and I saw that she was gone and for good. She had timed my bail so that I’d leave in time for her to drive by, not even waving, with Shrimp’s head hanging out the window. Shrimp was my white lab and he would have been worth a couple of hundred per litter just to breed him, if the old lady hadn’t had his balls cut off six months into life. That’s how the blues is: it makes sure you know the price you paid.
The great things about wives when you have the blues is that you never really loved her anyway. I mean, I used to love her, but my heart goes to wild women, and the old lady wasn’t so wild any more. I’d been counting on her driving off for years, I’m frankly shocked she paid my bail. And now, now I’d get the chance to do one of those things I’d wanted to do since I’d been aware it was a possibility: It was like giving a kid an ice cream cone, a year’s subscription to Batman, waiting for him to see the ad for new the Six Flags roller coaster of the same name on the second page, and mentioning casually how we’d be going to Six Flags the next weekend.
Jess was on her way to something big, me and Jess both knew that. She’d been coming down and visiting me and the old lady for months now, sometimes with that asshole Johnny that she breaks up with all the time, sometimes without him. He never comes around without her, because he’s not actually in on any of our business and maneuvers. Johnny wasn’t headed anywhere, let me take the time to say. He’d dropped out two years ago, and hadn’t held down a real job since. Jess would give him some of what she brought back to Birmingham, and sometimes he’d manage to sell enough of it at whatever restaurant he was bussing dishes at to pretend he’d come out ahead. Maybe that’s what it was about him: Nobody actually thinks that meth is putting them ahead somehow. Nobody thinks that this is the kind of game you can win. Except Johnny, Johnny thinks that all the little crystals in his sinuses are somehow changing him from a boy into a man, something like that.
I know that I talk a lot about the blues like it’s some mystical experience. But I know damned well the blues aren’t for everyone. Like rap, much as I like some of it, I have to place firmly in the domain of Johnny. I figure Jess just kind of floats from one jazz in a foreign language to another. This week is probably salsa, next week’ll be samba. I don’t know what the Hong Kong variation of jazz is, but I’m sure it’s on the schedule sometime in the next two months. The old lady had never gotten over radio pop, whether it’s hits from the eighties or hits from today, she’d never given up on pop music.
And the gorgeous thing here, now that I’ve said more than you really wanted to hear, that thing you probably didn’t really want to know is: I was going to make love to Jess from the mid afternoon of the day after tomorrow until mid afternoon two days after that. I know, but things that seem trivial are important. It wouldn’t be summer without heat and humidity, and it wouldn’t be the blues without love. And even if you don’t care for or about lovemaking, it’s the blues, and you know things’ll get worse immediately after the fourth kiss.
Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball
If that's all there is