kishkes & knubble

en una gota de agua buscaba su voz el nino

четверг, октября 11, 2007

my heart's just like that pumpkin

very often I do not listen to pop music or care about it. yesterday a rock band made a record that I liked very much and that I think I do care about. in fact I am in love with this record. I buy the lovely flowers for the record. I buy the boxes of chocolates for the record. I comb the hairs on my head for the record. I cook my special chicken and potatoes for the record. the record may have a harpy for a mother but I do not care because of how close the record and I are going to become. I write my name as Mr. Vanja This-Record because of desiring so to marry the record. I ride in a gondola with the record with a gondolier who is singing arias from very classical italian operas. I use the binaca before I see the record. I beat up anybody who says anything coarse or insensitive about the record. I do not go out with my friends if the record thinks that we should be alone together. I take the record to the concerts of the musicians who sing slow, romantic music, and who probably wear tuxedos at the concerts. I take the record out to see the movie casablanca, or better yet I rent the video of the movie casablanca and watch it with the record on the same night that I cook my special chicken and potatoes for the record. I tell special or affectionate secrets to the record. late at night when the record is asleep I reach out and hold the hand of the record and then go back to sleep that way because I prefer to be in physical contact with the record. I raise our acetate offspring in the religion of the record. I give the record a very long backrub every time the record would like one, without ever complaining or expecting anything in return from the record. when the record is sick I take champion care of the record, fixing the record's blankets and adjusting the record's snot-rags. when I am offered a great promotion at work that means we have to move farther from the record's harpy mother I turn down the promotion but then I work extra hours just so the record can have the same nice things as if I had got it. I hand the remote over to the record. I pay for a babysitter and take the record out someplace nice. I ride the horse over the field to the record. I for the record endure extremes in climate. if I go to art museums with the record, I do not make the record feel snooty if it understands the tricky contemporary paintings, and I do not make the record feel stupid if I understand the tricky contemporary paintings. I call the record when I am going to be late. I have special affectionate names for the record, some of them usable in public and some for when we are alone. I help the record. When I am grumpy or foul I do not act as though this were the fault of the record, even though in certain circumstances, let's be realistic, it may be the fault of the record. I learn Spanish so that I may say to the record te quiero. I draw portraits of the record that manage at once to be formally innovative, uncannily accurate, and deeply affectionate. I allow my ideas about the infinite to get mingled in with feelings about the record. If I work in an office I put a picture of the record on the desk in my cubicle and, when instead of the promotion I had to decline I receive several years later a promotion for which I don't have to move farther from the record's harpy mother I celebrate by getting an even bigger picture of the record and putting it on the wall in my new bigger office.

your heart is like a bigger office you get moved to after passing up a better promotion; you shld put flowers in it & take long lunches. it's also the only place thoughts ever come from.