24 April 2007
13 gulag orkestar
i've reached the significant conclusion that perhaps i was meant to be a gypsy. which is complete and utter lunacy since i'm quite sure traveling light is a prerequisite and i inevitably land anywhere with the thud of a thousand books. but on a very superficial level, i think i was meant to be of eastern european descent.
i like beads and revolutionary outfits and accordians, and i'd gladly be friends with men who have handlebar mustaches and wear bandannas and don't bathe regularly. or at the very least, i'd gladly shoot communication-carrying papyrus airplanes to them from my book-filled, generously perfumed tent conveniently located upwind.
in the end, it all comes down to melodramatic popular song. where o where are our culture's melodramatic popular songs? we have emo down cold, but we're sorely lacking in melodramatic popular song. and yet the gypsies seem to be bursting with it. and i think, were i a gypsy, i would quite possibly burst with it as well.
maybe, if i were a gypsy, my whole life would become a melodramatic popular song. i could be oline on the roof. y'know, in the beforetimes. before hitler came and the party died and the whole town were shipped off in canoes to a concentration camp and reduced to the plaintive wail of annnnnnnatevvvvvvvvka. um... yeah. that part sucked. that part would be the exact opposite of the melodramatic popular song life i want to lead.
but then, that's pretty much what makes a gypsy a gypsy and from whence come their melodramatic popular songs. that extraordinary blend of mournful joy. the certain knowledge that even if things kind of suck, if you start wearing purple all your sanity and wits will vanish. that little purple ladies will be perfect for dirty, useless clowns. it's just a matter of time. party!