Tuesday, August 16, 2005


Lyrics do not transfer well to words, and this is not what I meant to write tonight, but this song is stunning. This song has bad words. This song is keeping me up late, in my chair when I should be in my bed. This song is by Martha Wainwright, and when I saw her years ago, singing backup to her brother Rufus, she was wearing legwarmers. It was Valentine's Day. My best friend was in town. We had gone for fancy sushi, the five of us. Through the smoke in the bar, a girl with dyed black hair and pale skin and cat-eye makeup stood against the back wall, crying to herself. And my friend Filthy Bob walked up to her and asked what was wrong, and asked her to join us, and she wouldn't tell him, and she wouldn't, wouldn't come.

And Brad left, and Brian moved away, and Mike moved away, and I moved away, and Bob, I hope, I hope, I hope you have got her away from that wall.


...And the mother of gloom
In your bedroom
Standing over your head
With her hand in your head
With her hand in your head
I will not pretend
I will not put on a smile
I will not say I'm all right for you
When all I wanted was to be good
To do everything in truth
To do everything in truth