Flying with Dubliners

On the plane with a terrible headache and NO BATTERIES!!! We're only over Canada and I am going to die from this envelope of silence-- the film without the soundtrack. It's making me really cranky and pissed off and no one to be in a bad mood to. Now my fucking pen is running out of ink. The pilot just said "goodnight." It's 1:00 AM in England. I want to hit him for not selling batteries on board. This sucks! I had to carry all my tapes too...

"THE END OF SONG IS RAVING MADNESS"

Evelyn:

V1. Pressed against the window, her cheeks crushed by the winds of time. Memories of fields and flowers, seeing herself in her mothers eyes. Dodging her father's hand, lucky he went for the boys, but brothers gone and mother dead, she dusts the statues on the mantle.

*********

The dust will rise and fall, settling like the 12:00 sun and crusted nails and aching neck. Frank promises tomorrow and tomorrow she'll leave with him. When the sun will never set but looming moon and locking doors, her father steals his words into silence.

*********

He promises the straits of Magellan and Buenos Aires air. Songs of Canadian skies and the emerald eyes of the sea. But don't forget to dust the statues. Her father smiles kindly. But tomorrow Evelyn leaves. BUT THE END OF SONG IS RAVING MADNESS and broken promises to her mother. Where is happiness always dusk. Where is her own life?

*********

Her cheeks are pale and cold now and they're waiting at the docks for pirate ships and treasure chests to block her father's house. But Evelyn's washed over by a wave of her own soul. He seizes her hand, pulls her into the waters. Slipping fingers, struggling against iron like magnets in the sky he calls her "Evelyn."

But the end of song....

"SHE SET HER WHITE FACE TO HIM, PASSIVE, LIKE A HELPLESS ANIMAL. HER EYES GAVE HIM NO SIGN OF LOVE OR FAREWELL OR RECOGNITION."

***************************

In an airport in London with Don McLean and a new surgeon general. Invented souls and masked matching faces on all of the world's travellers. I am getting really exhausted, but somehow I am wouldn't even consider sleeping now. (They can't let me die here!!)

And airports are the weirdest places. They are artificial crossroads, the merchant towns of yesteryear. My eyes are burning now too... And the map runs through my head as I have trouble remembering where I am... Conceptually ti still boggles the mind of one who grew up with the concept...

And I smell the sand dunes of my beloved mecca on Fifth Avenue.

You can definitely tell who is European here from who is North American... and even between the Europeans... those from the continent.

Anyway, until later...