Friday, June 23, 2006
Lobster Cabaret
I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles
I pretty much played that song on ridiculous repeat while I was away. I loved it. Still do love it.
In our eyes are mirror images and when
We kiss they're perfectly aligned...
True, it may seem like a stretch, but
Its thoughts like this that catch my troubled
Head when you're away when I am missing you to death...
They will see us waving from such great
Heights, 'come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
'come down now,' but we'll stay...
I tried my best to leave this all on your
machine but the persistent beat it sounded
thin upon listening
That frankly will not fly. you will hear
The shrillest highs and lowest lows with
The windows down when this is guiding you home...
-The Postal Service - Such Great Heights
Hayley called me last night on my way home from Cabaret, which I went to see with my aunt. I'd never seen Cabaret, never even really heard anything about it, but I was hoping it might be a fun little piece of escapism in the same vein as Chicago. It was indeed light-hearted, for the first half, anyway. Then it got all dark and Nazified and in the end I wasn't really sure what the point was. Live fast and die young, because life is a cabaret? Be sensible and look out because there are guys wearing swastikas just around the corner? A little bit of both? Argh. I wasn't in the mood for philosophizing. Should have gone to Cirque de Soleil instead.
Anyway, my girl called me, crabby, on her way to work last night. She picked an argument with me about whether it was easier to get food poisoning from chilli or sushi. What. A. Ridiculous. Argument. It's actually hysterically funny in its sheer moronicness.
But anyway. Enough about my overwrought personal life.
Say....I miss the Purple Owl. Where are you, girl? We must exchange emails about Middlesex. What an amazing book it is. I love it.
Somehow the tale of young Calliope (my mom claims it's pronounced CALLY-OH-PEE....um....is it?) Stephanides and three generations of her eccentric family is something I find at once totally foreign to my experience and yet completely effortless to relate to. I really relate to her joyous and painful summer with a preppy redheaded girl in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. The resemblances to last summer in my life are pretty startling, so I think anyway. I also somehow inadvertently sold a copy of Middlesex to a regular at the bookstore when I came in to visit my former coworkers. Oh god. I'm not even employed by the store anymore, and there I was selling books. Perhaps bookselling really is in my genes. My grandfather owned a rather illustrious bookstore back in the day. Who knows....if Middlesex has taught me anything, it's to not discount the power of the genetic over our lives.
The above photo is of Dag in Portugal, with crustacean friends. She loves them, they love her.
And I, as we all know, love the love.
-N
