speaking in tongues

i can tell eben has been in europe because currently his iTunes is playing Ilona Mitrecey, age:11 ans, whose video consists of animated cows, bumblebees and crocodiles. my francais stops being decent at about 5 or 6 ans, barely progressing past Magritte et merde, so I do not know exactly what it is about.
THE VIDEO FOR JERMAINE STEWART’S STRANGELY PUERILE FIRST-DATE ABSTINENCE ADVOCACY SONG: here. also a veritable treasure trove of old ’70s-’80s funk/soul/disco videos… I know it’s effed up, but the overwhelming lack of pitch correct was one of the first things I noticed. Has “Britneyization” tainted the nuanced delights of the flawed vocal?! (Answer: No.) Secondly, the back-up dancers in the video for german enactment of donna summer’s “love to love u”–it’s like will ferrell heading up the cheer team. donna is exacting her sensuous, orgasmic ways—or attempting as much, while sparkle motion, a clumsy chorus, stumbles through her gorgeous game. white leotards, pirouettes, foute turns and everything.
currently in phase two of operation: move. back in brooklyn though a bit displaced for the moment, but i have no beef with ebenezer’s couch, in part because alex just busted into the living room and put my favorite talking heads song on the record player:
Hi yo I got plenty of time
Hi yo you got light in your eyes
And you’re standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up + say goodnight . . . say goodnight

d. byrne singing with rare polished corners, offering up his voice, humble in the face of trust and surrender: “love me til my heart stops, love me til i’m dead,” the harmony trembles, but speaks no dread. he sings it like he knows it to be fact. The subtitle, “naive melody,” revels in its own innocencia– Its faith, its synth, the odd convergence of percussive instruments, they melt me. eben and i have been working out our OCD issues with it for about 22 1/2 hours straight. “ad nauseum,” he says.
A note on a different sort of faith (and perhaps a different sort of melting, too): I stepped into a public argument last night in Union Square about the gaza evacuation— started by a sole preacher carrying a book, norman finkelstein’s beyond chutzpah, and swollen to 50 or more–men yelling about zionists defining borders by torah, others yelling about palestinians throwing rocks at tanks, still others mourning the settlements and constant displacement of peoples, your god, my god, “part of the land of israel given by god to the jews.” I myself am a land without a god, yet crossed myself on instinct– seeking equilibrium, it was a fetal motion, a silent hello to my own past, La Virgen and before her, Tonantzin. A woman leaned into me and whispered, “It’s useless for us to argue, we aren’t there, we know nothing.”A hot-faced man, his white hair blowing about with his temper, screamed, “ANY PEOPLE WHOSE LAND IS OCCUPIED BY HOSTILE FORCES HAS THE RIGHT TO FIGHT AGAINST ITS OCCUPIERS,” meaning Palestine, implying Iraq, though this he did not say outright.
The fellow with whom he argued, his face equally vehement, his conviction certain, screamed, “DID WE RETURN MANHATTAN TO THE NATIVE AMERICANS? DID WE RETURN TEXAS TO THE MEXICANS? NO! WE DID NOT!” meaning Israel, implying Iraq, though this he did not say outright.
Another man nearby, not nearly as indignant as either of the criers, shook his head and shufffled off, muttering, “Privilege, privilege, privilege…”

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One Response to speaking in tongues

  1. Eat My Shorts says:

    I think Israel should give the land back to Plaestinians. Only way to have a chance at peace.

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