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Simon & Garfunkel

June 25, 2008

Listening to them now. My favourite has to be The Dangling Conversation. Bleecker Street a photo-finish second.
The Dangling Conversation, for me, is a bit like discovering your father’s porn stash. Call me weird. The waves of euphoria crash against the scowling black rocks of disappointment.
“Cool! My father’s got porn!”
“Hang on … what’s he doing with porn? Does my mother know?”
“Look at the tits on that redhead. They can’t be real.”
“What was he thinking?!”
“How did she fit that there?”
And the ping-pong match goes on …
The song starts with a good – “sweet” – rhythm. It’s a still life water colour.
Hmmm. Honeyed.
I sit through the first few bars. Then there it goes cast in our indifference
How it jars. But the tune is still great. You can’t chuck a song just because of a small mistake.
So you keep listening as though you misunderstood.
And you read your Emily Dickinson and I my Robert Frost.
See? I told you we must have misunderstood something.
And we note our place with bookmarkers that measure what we’ve lost.
Oops. There we go again. And it’s downhill all the way. Till we reach the coup de grace: And I only kiss your shadow I cannot feel your hand, you’re a stranger
Now unto me

That’s cold. Murderous.
But the tune … enthralling.
A nice song about most people’s nightmare – a sham marriage (or relationship). What were they thinking?
*oh well*
Perhaps I’d be better off listening to Nelly thinking she’s like a bird …

Toodle-oo.

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From → Misfires

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