Everybody quits eventually, is a statement that is true. You can argue it’s not, but eventually you will lose.
Metaphores are fun, huh? They are the verbal punctuation reality needs to be properly understood sometimes. They ask a reader or a listener to look at what they are seeing from a different angle. A broader understandong can stem from a metaphore. A secret you might need only some people to understand can live in a metaphore. It disengages the language from specificity without losing the meaning of what it’s trying to say, if it works. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.
This one is about recognizing that the end is not the end, and indecision and addiction and love. Love remains simply what you may have seen out the rear view mirror of the American representation of financial freedom, the car. Love is the addiction that causes humanity to look into time and ponder itself and recreate itself and hold itself together when it might come apart.
It’s the thing that you think you might be able to give up, because it’s just too damned hard to love someone after you have really seen them.
It’s hard. It can be hard. You should be ready for it to be hard and for yourself to give up and un give up in cycles, because for as clear as things can seem to you even things that are truly true can both unwind from and rewind themselves into the notion of truth. And though you will never know what is in another person’s mind, you can still love them. You choose it. You even choose what it means.
English is weak on the notion. Greek has seven or eight words for love. The English way is both good and bad. It's bad because the OS that is language has weak code for the thing that holds us together. It’s good because it allows us a kind of open poetic reconstruction opportunity. And seven or eight types do not a more whole whole make. Language doesn’t fit love in it very precisely. There are a couple poems about it, a number of memorable songs, some plays. You can see it all around you. The evidence of it if not the thing itself cannot be spared the impact of randomly tossed stones. Were it a venomous legless reptile, you would be envenomated. It is you and you are it and also the whole of everything. We need to tell each other sometimes that we love each other, to remind each other that we still do, because it can be hard to see it through a lens clouded with doubt and fear. It’s more important under those circumstances than ever. It's easy to forget.
Tell someone. Even if you are not sure you want to anymore, because you will again. It's all still there. It is not very effectively left behind. You are not, so it is not.
This time I used a song. And I am in it, but so are you.
The Last Drag
This is the last drag- cherry bouncin’ down the road behind the car, the county line, the bar. This is the last drag- comin’ back to where you are. And I don't wanna be in love anymore, but I’m the one who left the spark half goin’ last time. And showin’ me the door must just be a pastime. The way you hold it open seems like a come-on. Come on in. This is the last drag. And I don’t wanna be in lobe anymore, But I’m the one who left the door wide open last time.
Chase spark back around to the first part. [I] sing a song ‘cause it rhymes with my heart. Catch flame and you run with a new name. That's the roud-about part of the spark game. And I don't wanna be in love anymore, but I’m the one who left the spark half goin’ last time. And showin’ me the door must just be a pastime.
Sean Haskins Plays Drums
Darren Matthews Plays Lead Guitar
Randy Davis Plays Bass
Nathan Bassinger Plays Hammond B-3 Organ through a Leslie Cabinet
I play guitar and sing.
This song is on a record called ‘She Knows the Score’ that you can buy… right here:
