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The Birth and Death of Meaning

by The Debutante Hour

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People are trying to get and break and destroy you, People are going to get whatever they want. Hurricanes blow through in torrents drunk, shipwrecked as sailors, No place is safe for a con man and his debutante. Your wine stained old curtain got lost in a sudden tornado, Your cabaret girls and their wigs hopped a train to LA. The auctioneer sold the menagerie off for mere pebbles, There was nothing to do but to get on your knees and pray. Lord, I can’t help it, I feel so unnecessary. Lord, I’m redundant and worry that one day I’ll drown. Well I’m not the lord and you didn’t ask my opinion, but I gotta say honey your worldview gets me down. La la la Stringbean it was a joke, the ox and his yoke, we were all damned. Tra la la Stringbean you were a villain I was a damsel it was a scam. You locked the door one two three four click clock click clack times, Certain the god of the sea was conspiring to flood out all the bad ones. All signs were pointing to hell and then straight to the devil, Weeks passed on the couch, we read Sartre when we wanted some fun. Then one Sunday morning I ran for the next locomotive, My favorite stockings got left in the frenzied despair. But the one little token of you I could not forsake, dear, Was the lock I had cut of your cherry red clown colored hair. You always sang Lord…. I’ve made a new friend and he’s world worn and cautious as I am. He’s hopeful to boot it’s an easier premise to take. He’s no evil villain but more than a little vaudevillian, When we laugh at the meaning of things there’s not too much at stake. Lord…
Devil Song 03:31
I want to meet the devil. I'd say, just be yourself. I don't want a caricature or a replica, not anyone else. I want to meet the devil, I'd say, don't be vague. I don't want to hear what people say you ought to be or any of your favorite cliches. I want to meet the devil. I've got a feeling, we're much the same - parents who never understood us, said they loved us, then wished we would change. B They say you're on TV in anything that amuses me. They say you're my nieghbor's wife, anyone who bleed without a knife. You're there when I'm feeling good; youre the cause of me feeling bad. You're in every mean conversations that people have. You're in the dad who never got the cadillac he wanted. You're in the mom who was too panicked to have any fun. You're in the kid who only learned how to kill a marriage and any foolish notion of unconditional love. You're in the part that believes you're bad, so you've got to do something to make you good, so you read the Bible on the train; it's clear cut and understood. And you might yell on the train about Jesus no matter if it's rude. You're in the faces of the passengers who'd kill you if they could. You're in my coffee, my toothpaste, my hand sanitizer my underwear, my inappropriate inner thoughts, my embarrassing outer despair, the jealousy I try and hide that my friends can sense but are too nice to say. Every bit of smallness I know is dumb but feel anyway. Where is the devil? Where else is the Devil?
The virgin of a carpenter was visited in the night, By an angel who told her that a baby was in sight. She had it in a manger and the wise men came with myrrh, And the angel chorus sang about the miracle birth. Miracle birth of the lamb of God, There was no hanky-panky but no one felt odd, Because the misery of life became the miracle of birth, And true or not disciples spread it all around the earth. Origin stories when the planets collide, And the chaos and the curse of the miracle birth. And then the existential quandary and the moral quagmire, Honey, I’m just glad you were born. I’m just glad you were born, So I don’t have to be here alone. A white elephant came to Queen Maya with a lotus, To tell her she was pregnant which I guess she hadn’t noticed. So she told it to her husband but her husband didn’t mind, ‘Cause everybody knew the baby coming was divine. And the villagers rejoiced when the baby sprang forth, And he took seven steps towards the lotuses in the north. The wise men wrote it down and they put it in a book, The story of the Buddha and his miracle birth. Origin stories… Zeus woke up with a horrible migraine, Like someone with a sword was hacking right into his brain. By noon it got so bad ow thud thud thud, That he asked Hephaestus to crack his skill. And out she sprang, a warrior full grown. Athena, Minerva, a goddess was born. Once in mortal fear Zeus had swallowed up her mom, But now everything was cool and everybody got along. Origin stories…
Galax 04:18
They drove on down to the mountains, to see what they could find. The snow don’t come in winter any more, so they pitched a tent among the neon signs. The tent was on the border of some big mart parking lot. They hid out under cover, and in the bright old lights they saw each other. They reached that little town, drank some Appalachian wine. The moon sat still, cast a honeysuckle spell, love can’t always be the wiser. Galax, I was hoping you might be a train Galax, I was hoping you might take me away. She loved him for a season, to see what she could find. Forty church bells rang for them, but she couldn’t stay, she strayed off at times. She walked on down to the river, to see what she could find. The water hadn’t frozen yet, so she stepped right in, and toed the tide. He found her there in the moonlight, on the starriest night in the sky. The mountains crept upon them, and they knew they’d used their given time. Galax… The water it was calling out an ancient river song. They obeyed, stripped their clothes to wade, got lost down the river with the tide. In the nightlife on the blue ridge, where the taillights look like arrows, two young kids broke a honeysuckle spell to see love can’t make the river wiser. Galax…
Sunday in the Trailer   David Bowie is an alien Pho and his brother too Mike's half alien and half machine Kate Bush  - it's a toss up Bjork - it's pretty obvious   You took the post card off the wall where you had hung things up instead of TV and wondered if people still paint like that ever. 1912. Girls fishing.   In a black dress.  In a white dress.  We guess at what it means, You write a message you'll mail to me later. I wonder about Joanie and her alcoholic boyfriend. What do women like that do?  Getting older, didn't live her life like the others.  I wonder for Joanie, but secretly I wonder for me.   You said I was elegant as you pressed my shoulders I thought of the claws of my feet I tried to hide them, but you found them eventually.   If I were air If I were thoughts that didn't dare To materialize into flesh What would I have to kiss you with?
Watch Carrie Eat You’ll not only know what she ate, you can see her appreciate her company and her cuisine From rugula to linguin- e. She’ll either find things extreme- ly to her liking, or she’ll or she’ll She’ll let you know. Watch Carrie eat… She can’t help it if she’s that way. It’s in her DNA like the picture of Deborah Kerr she kept in her wallet. How far has Carry come since the days when she was six when she only ate… yeah, she only ate lamb…….. only lamb chop. Watch Carrie eat...
Organizing my planner for next week I'm organizing my planner for next week; someplace for the mess in my head. I don't care to be enlightened; give me some new tricks for living instead. Can you plan surprises, like hope or skirting inevitable dread. The dread that killed your father, and all your mother's regrets. Regrets. That you swore would never get to you because you're different from them…. Hah ah aha ha ha haa Hah ah aha ha ha haa And you fight hard not be an asshole like the kind you know is in your head. And then you fight hard not to fight like all the gurus said. And then you're right back at it again… I don't want to be afraid of any of my greed or my ugliness. Let none of it surprise me, and I don't want to go around having conversations and shaking people’s hands, while everyone's uncomfortable because of all the bile I think I'm so good at choking back But it might happen anyway in which case I'll have to learn Forgiveness and start all over again. Learn for forgiveness and start all over again.. Learn forgiveness and start all over again… Hah ah aha ha ha haa Hah ah aha ha ha haa
For Myself 02:14
For Myself Never wanted the moon for myself, I couldn’t pull it down. Where would I keep it? How could I sleep at night with all that glow around? Never wanted the sea for myself, I couldn’t swim it. And all those dead and dying fish I’d be responsible for - I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t stomach it. Never wanted the sky for myself, I couldn’t hold it. All those clouds would start to shift And I’d find myself adrift - I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t live like that. But I want you For myself. I want you for myself.
Sometimes I Wonder about The Creator of the Universe As cruel as Heliogabalus He’ll light the fire to hear us scream He won’t explain doodleysquat to us But wants telegraphic messages on everything. It’s not anything they teach you in church. Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the universe. Prostitutes surrender To their pimps like They’re surrendering to Jesus While beautifying their insides With bad chemicals causing suicide, theft, murder, insanity or worse. Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the Universe. Production is breaking The earth before it can recharge. And the things that we’re making are lousy by and large -- washday products, cat food and pop. Sometimes I wonder when will it all stop Destructive testing to see how much we can take. He ignores our protesting and he Sets out to make us break. He’s slightly insane and a little perverse. Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the universe. Someplace where you’d need A rubber vagina for lonesomeness Ain’t any place to be But there doesn’t seem much choice for us. It’s not very fair and a little absurd Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the universe. I don’t know what it means all this suffering collectively. We could be all machines Set to love defectively. There ain’t no good answer; that’s just how it works. Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the universe.
Zombies are zen. Except for that insatiable appetite in them They need you alive, they need you alive just to make you dead. See, they’re in it for the process, not the wins or the losses which makes them pretty zen. They’re not easy. It’s not their fault, it’s you and me. It can mess with your head. Are they alive or are they dead? They’re that annoying in between, the embodiment of extremes, but in some ways just like us except for that insatiable appetite for brains and guts…. it’s nothing personal, Brains and guts Brains and guts...
You can run until you’re out of breath. You can jump until your face turns red. My head hurts trying to know which way to go. It’s a simple movement in a direction I’ve never been. That’s where I want to go. I want to see insides. Show them to me. I want to see insides of everything. I‘m not the king of pointland, so why try for that kind of bliss. I’m configured to miss The point which is all is connectedness. But I’m not a king, or even a point, so the point is moot. My desire to aspire is acute. What if the movement is no movement at all. What if the trick is to be still until there’s nowhere to go. Then we could see insides. Show them to me. We could see insides of everything. I want to see.... I want to see insides of everything.
Croak, Hiss and Sputter I’ve been myself for as long as I can remember. The sweet mess of us reminds me of that from time to time. The faster this train sped, babe, the slower we climbed. I’d sure love it though, if maybe, someday, you’d be mine. Somedays It gets hard To talk To you Somedays it gets hard To talk At all The highway haybales stretched for days and days, dinosaurs in tourist towns were made of papier mache. The camera caught us looking bad so we didn’t stay I see it now, the photos of the furrows, the bridges and the boroughs, don’t get changed. The old man’s stone stew had tons of food to eat, or so we heard. Wax dripped off the cylinders, frogs chirped like birds. The archive dust got windexed off by archive nerds, but still we turned, we croak hiss & sputtered into words (things we said, there they were) Somedays It gets hard to explain what I mean To you Somedays It gets hard to explain anything At all Sailor talk and sea salt don’t always fit in. The stories we got told as little kids don’t make metaphors for everything, and spools of time like fishing line don’t always get reeled in but still we turn, we croak hiss and sputter into words Somedays It gets hard to explain what I mean To you Somedays It gets hard to explain anything At all I’ve been myself for as long as I can remember. The sweet mess of us reminds me of that from time to time. The faster this train sped, the slower we climbed. I’d sure love it though, if maybe, someday, you’d be mine
Scheherezade 01:21
Scheherezade Scheherazade, you’re such a pistol. You’re skipping the qualifying rounds and going straight for the big test. You’ve got some balls, Scheherazade. You must be bored, Scheherazade. You’re young, and you don’t even know to be afraid yet. Keep talking. Keep talking. You’ve got that golden tongue. Keep talking, keep talking, tell us another one. It’s a father’s job to tell you you’re going to suck. To tell you to stay home. You’re going to fuck things up. He’s got to keep you safe until the boredom makes you run So safe until even a possible beheading looks like fun He gave no choice to you, what were you supposed to do. Twiddle your thumbs and act like now’s not the time to be dumb. He gave no choice to you, what were you supposed to do. It’s a every daughter’s job to say, no dad, that’s enough. Keep talking. Keep talking. You’ve got that golden tongue. Keep talking, keep talking, tell us another one.
Be Yourself 02:40
Be Yourself When contentment looks nice on other people Was it sweat or smarts or genetics, I wonder I’ve wanted to be old ladies and anyone who seemed to have it in their cellular structure I think must have been born with some too But I lost it somehow. I ignored or forgot it when I was13 and thought I’d be skinnier and popular without it. No one told me then nor I wouldn’t listen that all that time with yourself could be more fun If you didn’t keep wanting to be someone Someone else… Now, you have to be yourself, god knows, no one else is going to do it Who’s going to see the things you saw and think the thoughts you thought or wring the regrets you’ve wrought. Who’s going to wade through that doom with all the copious coping mechanisms handed down to you, if you don’t, who’ll do it? It’s your special combination of doubts and you finding your own way out and remembering your own way in to who you’ve always been You’ve got to be yourself god knows, no one else is gonna do it; you just wake up, don’t give yourself too much hell, that’s all there is to it So even if they assume you’re an Alyssa Milano, and you know you’re more like Jennifer Jason Leigh, don’t let it affect what you do tomorrow, because there’s only one you you can be (except for that other several dozen) You've got to be yourself. God knows.


released March 21, 2010


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The Debutante Hour Brooklyn, New York

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