Little House of Savages
It's a beautiful night here in Lewistown. Fifty degrees, overcast, drizzley-mist type rain, and good Walkmen songs in my head. During the day, I swear (if not for the casinos) I could be in Scotland or the Shire. At night, I know with every fiber of my insides that this is wonderful place to spend year 23. But that's not what I want to talk about.
Two self-discoveries made whilst watching television:
I'm in love with the idea of Meg Ryan. Not the person, because I have no idea what the person is like. But the idea -- awkward and witty and Meg Ryanish (even her name is cute -Meg- how can you not adore her?).
It's because I live a pitiful existence. Sure, it's full of life and joy and Montana skies. But it's also full of TBS Superstation showings of You've Got Mail. This is the life of a pseudo-Bohemian, faux-loner, which I want sometimes, but mostly not. Mostly I want things that I'm not ready for. Life things. Like mini-vans.
Last night, I spent an hour watching President Reagan in repose. This is roughly what I saw.
I started watching at 12:30 MDT, which meant it was 2:30 in Washington. And I couldn't believe how many people were there, at two in the morning, milling through the capital rotunda to catch a 30 second glimpse of a flag draped over a coffin.
I want to feel that way about a president. I'm no fool. And Reagan was no saint. But I want to vote for someone I could wait hours in line to pass their casket, to take my children, to be proud in recounting the story to my grandchildren. I was there. I want that so very much. I want the real deal. I want to vote for a good man or woman, not the lesser of two morons. I want to believe in someone so whole-heartedly that I drop everything, quit my job, volunteer full time, wearing suits to work, rolling up my sleeves and taking off my jacket to canvas the neighborhood, convincing people that a vote for this person could affect their life for the better.
In a perfect world, I would work for that person, and be married to Meg Ryan, and open for the Walkmen someone on the Upper East Side.
In a perfect world, I wouldn't watch this much television.
As Smart As We Are
Finally, I just popped The Verve's Urban Hymns into the computer, and iTunes came back with two possible choices: The Verve - Urban Hymns; or Phillip Boa & The Voodooclub - My Private War.
I think I'm going to pick Phillip Boa. I'm hoping for the best.
Friday, June 11, 2004
On Ronald Reagan, Meg Ryan, and Urban Hymns (sung daily, near vacant lots, utility closets, driving old folks crazy)
Little House of Savages
Posted by jonny at 1:46 AM