Josh Ritter's song The Curse, is a love song for sure--but with all its archetypal themes of the passing of time, birth, rebirth, and aging...it seems to be more of a love song between a mother and son. He opens his eyes, falls in love at first sight with the girl in the door way, what beautiful lines, heart full of life, after thousands of years what a face to wake up to. I remember falling in love with you-the first night after you were born, laying next to me swaddled like a mummy in a pink, blue, and white hospital blanket. Black hair. Mongolian eyes. Orion's hands. Oh. Love from the second they laid you on my stomach and you unraveled. Two cells that united and created a body of complex systems--a perfect blending that made you, a miracle like the dry fig of his heart that starts back to its beating. He holds back a sigh as she touches his arm, she dusts of the bed where to now he's been sleeping. Then we brought you home. I remember Todd lifting you up, showing you the outside world, our home that is now your home. She carries him home, in a beautiful boat, he watches the sea from a porthole in stowage. And you have been watching everything since that day, soaking it all up and learning. He can hear all she says, as she sits by his bed, and one day his lips answer her in her own language. It's true that the days quickly pass, he loves making her laugh, the first time he moves it's her hair that he touches. So many people love you, they come to see you and hold you, but at night you are with me. It is our psyche's that are so deeply connected, they cannot be severed...he is laid in a glass covered case... people crowd round to see him, but at night she comes round and the two wander down, the halls of the tomb that she calls a museum... No surprise tomb is spelled just like womb, a place of rest, a place of birth. Time will pass and somehow we will switch places. But he stops to rest, then less and less, then it's her that looks tired staying up asking questions. He learns how to read from the papers that she is writing about him, then he makes corrections. Cue trumpet solo. You will grow up..make it big... you will do great things and draw more attention in the prime of your life, more come to look, families from Iowa, Upper West-Siders... You will need me less and less. But you will miss me. Then one day it's too much, he decides to get up, then as chaos ensues he walks outside to find her. She's using a cane, and her face looks to pale. But she's happy to see him, as they walks he supports her. We will reunite. Find ways to relate. Love each other. But it will be a little different this time, a little in reverse. Such reanimation, the two tour the nation, he gets out of limos, meets other women. He speaks of her fondly, their nights in the museum. But then I will get old and become, just one more rag now he's dragging behind him. All I can hope for at that point is that dad and I will always be with it enough to not be a burden--that until the day we die you can come home and we will give you old people candy and stuff from the garden. How strange that we live in this circular way. She stops going out, she just lies there in bed...Then her face starts to set, and her hands start to fold.. and one day the dry fig of her heart stops it's beating... And I hope you are by my side. And that it is as beautiful, tragic, painful, and miraculous as the day you born... She asks "are you cursed?" He says "I think that I'm cured." Then he kissed her and hoped that she'd forget that question...
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The Curse... of exsisting.
Dear Jonah,
Josh Ritter's song The Curse, is a love song for sure--but with all its archetypal themes of the passing of time, birth, rebirth, and aging...it seems to be more of a love song between a mother and son. He opens his eyes, falls in love at first sight with the girl in the door way, what beautiful lines, heart full of life, after thousands of years what a face to wake up to. I remember falling in love with you-the first night after you were born, laying next to me swaddled like a mummy in a pink, blue, and white hospital blanket. Black hair. Mongolian eyes. Orion's hands. Oh. Love from the second they laid you on my stomach and you unraveled. Two cells that united and created a body of complex systems--a perfect blending that made you, a miracle like the dry fig of his heart that starts back to its beating. He holds back a sigh as she touches his arm, she dusts of the bed where to now he's been sleeping. Then we brought you home. I remember Todd lifting you up, showing you the outside world, our home that is now your home. She carries him home, in a beautiful boat, he watches the sea from a porthole in stowage. And you have been watching everything since that day, soaking it all up and learning. He can hear all she says, as she sits by his bed, and one day his lips answer her in her own language. It's true that the days quickly pass, he loves making her laugh, the first time he moves it's her hair that he touches. So many people love you, they come to see you and hold you, but at night you are with me. It is our psyche's that are so deeply connected, they cannot be severed...he is laid in a glass covered case... people crowd round to see him, but at night she comes round and the two wander down, the halls of the tomb that she calls a museum... No surprise tomb is spelled just like womb, a place of rest, a place of birth. Time will pass and somehow we will switch places. But he stops to rest, then less and less, then it's her that looks tired staying up asking questions. He learns how to read from the papers that she is writing about him, then he makes corrections. Cue trumpet solo. You will grow up..make it big... you will do great things and draw more attention in the prime of your life, more come to look, families from Iowa, Upper West-Siders... You will need me less and less. But you will miss me. Then one day it's too much, he decides to get up, then as chaos ensues he walks outside to find her. She's using a cane, and her face looks to pale. But she's happy to see him, as they walks he supports her. We will reunite. Find ways to relate. Love each other. But it will be a little different this time, a little in reverse. Such reanimation, the two tour the nation, he gets out of limos, meets other women. He speaks of her fondly, their nights in the museum. But then I will get old and become, just one more rag now he's dragging behind him. All I can hope for at that point is that dad and I will always be with it enough to not be a burden--that until the day we die you can come home and we will give you old people candy and stuff from the garden. How strange that we live in this circular way. She stops going out, she just lies there in bed...Then her face starts to set, and her hands start to fold.. and one day the dry fig of her heart stops it's beating... And I hope you are by my side. And that it is as beautiful, tragic, painful, and miraculous as the day you born... She asks "are you cursed?" He says "I think that I'm cured." Then he kissed her and hoped that she'd forget that question...
Josh Ritter's song The Curse, is a love song for sure--but with all its archetypal themes of the passing of time, birth, rebirth, and aging...it seems to be more of a love song between a mother and son. He opens his eyes, falls in love at first sight with the girl in the door way, what beautiful lines, heart full of life, after thousands of years what a face to wake up to. I remember falling in love with you-the first night after you were born, laying next to me swaddled like a mummy in a pink, blue, and white hospital blanket. Black hair. Mongolian eyes. Orion's hands. Oh. Love from the second they laid you on my stomach and you unraveled. Two cells that united and created a body of complex systems--a perfect blending that made you, a miracle like the dry fig of his heart that starts back to its beating. He holds back a sigh as she touches his arm, she dusts of the bed where to now he's been sleeping. Then we brought you home. I remember Todd lifting you up, showing you the outside world, our home that is now your home. She carries him home, in a beautiful boat, he watches the sea from a porthole in stowage. And you have been watching everything since that day, soaking it all up and learning. He can hear all she says, as she sits by his bed, and one day his lips answer her in her own language. It's true that the days quickly pass, he loves making her laugh, the first time he moves it's her hair that he touches. So many people love you, they come to see you and hold you, but at night you are with me. It is our psyche's that are so deeply connected, they cannot be severed...he is laid in a glass covered case... people crowd round to see him, but at night she comes round and the two wander down, the halls of the tomb that she calls a museum... No surprise tomb is spelled just like womb, a place of rest, a place of birth. Time will pass and somehow we will switch places. But he stops to rest, then less and less, then it's her that looks tired staying up asking questions. He learns how to read from the papers that she is writing about him, then he makes corrections. Cue trumpet solo. You will grow up..make it big... you will do great things and draw more attention in the prime of your life, more come to look, families from Iowa, Upper West-Siders... You will need me less and less. But you will miss me. Then one day it's too much, he decides to get up, then as chaos ensues he walks outside to find her. She's using a cane, and her face looks to pale. But she's happy to see him, as they walks he supports her. We will reunite. Find ways to relate. Love each other. But it will be a little different this time, a little in reverse. Such reanimation, the two tour the nation, he gets out of limos, meets other women. He speaks of her fondly, their nights in the museum. But then I will get old and become, just one more rag now he's dragging behind him. All I can hope for at that point is that dad and I will always be with it enough to not be a burden--that until the day we die you can come home and we will give you old people candy and stuff from the garden. How strange that we live in this circular way. She stops going out, she just lies there in bed...Then her face starts to set, and her hands start to fold.. and one day the dry fig of her heart stops it's beating... And I hope you are by my side. And that it is as beautiful, tragic, painful, and miraculous as the day you born... She asks "are you cursed?" He says "I think that I'm cured." Then he kissed her and hoped that she'd forget that question...
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