We were handed baking soda, to let it deodorize the refrigerator. We preferred watching it explode when we dropped it in vinegar. He wanted milk, then he wanted water, then he wanted milk, then he wanted water. She poured them both on his head when it finally got to herrrrr. Two cats learned to play piano they called their siblings and they came in droves. This took away her breathe, but they could breathe even less if left to freeze in the ccccccockold. Twenty three years the door was left unlocked, only a stake stolen once. Spoken: Can you believe that? A stake, was only stolen once. Friends of friends of friends of friends with pot stains on their brains and umbilical cords. Called her mother, called her often, took her for granted and she loved them even more. Even more. Even more. No even more than that. Even More. Even More.
JOHN: I often try to write about my Mother, but it seems I am better at writing about tragic figures in my life, whereas my Mother has been the salvation. The woman who struggled to bring up five children on her own, gave her life to us. This song is about the turbulent days in my youth when my brothers were crazed, angry, confused about their father leaving. It is about all the strays my mom would take in, cats, kids, elderly, the young and the dying. She took them into her life and they sucked out her insides. We all made it through those times, but believe you me, it was rough! This record, to also fit in the theme of thresholds, has two perspectives on similar situations. This is the comical take of the more serious goings-on in "A Non-Fictional Account of My Families Rage..."
No comments:
Post a Comment