someday, baby
you’ll be looking down on me
but don’t you ever think I don’t know
what you’re bound to see
it’s just destiny
it’s just got to be
that’s my prophecy
someday, baby
when you’ve got this
whole thing straight
after you contemplate
maybe meditate
you’ll see that it was fate
it had to be this way
besides
it’s all too late
someday, baby you’ll be laughing in the sun I can see you with your Only One and I know that it just has to be it’s prophecy it is destiny
someday, baby
this will all be washed away
that’s what the old men say
but it’ll be okay
a million years from today
it’ll end our pain
someday, baby youll be laughing in the sun I can see you with your Only One and you know it just has to be it is prophecy it’s destiny
There was a period when I was damn glad to have a job in a gas station in a gritty, dangerous, inner city neighborhood. One week, there were three killings on the block, two of them in the squat next to the station.
Needless, perhaps, to say, I met a lot of interesting folks from many cultures — if not all socioeconomic strata.
I was hanging on by my fingernails but at least I had a roof over my head and a car and an old guitar.
A lot of the folks around me weren’t so lucky.
It was an era that got under my skin in funny ways and opened up my suburban-bred thought processes enough that I found myself exploring the milieu in my imagination and ultimately in my music.
When I look back on my life
to see what’s comin’ next
All I see is more unpaid bills
more bad checks and auto wrecks
Won’t someone help me please
Jesus, get my feet back in the right tracks
won’t someone help me please
Can’t everyone see that this wasn’t supposed to
happen to me
I’d be fadin’ away in the smoggy sun of Californ-i-a If I had my Way If I had my way
But this place got a hold on me tighter than Alcatraz and it ain’t got half the charm that I’ve heard that Alcatraz has
My teeth are fallin’ out
and my liver’s going bad
my wife’s gained 500 pounds
and my daughter has been had
by every two bit piece of scum
in a low life rat bag town
that’s known for its losers
but then as my wife tells me every night as she
crawls in bed next to me
honey:
beggars can’t be choosers we’re just natural born losers we’ve been losing since the day we were born we’ll be losing til the day we die
some of us was born to win and others just to wonder why
beggars can’t be choosers…
Won’t someone help me please
Jesus, get my feet back in the right tracks
won’t someone help me please
Can’t everyone see that this wasn’t supposed to
happen to me
I’d be fadin’ away in the smoggy sun of Californ-i-a If I had my Way If I had my way
After the Reagan administration broke oup the (once government sanctioned) AT&T telephone monopoly (to “lower telephone costs”… back then my phone bill was about $7 a month) it split up into pieces and then the Texas based piece started buying up the other pieces and now the Texas based piece IS AT&T… in name if not in spirit. A lot of money changed hands, if nothing else. Must have benefitted someone. You’d think.
Anyhow, what with AT&T back in the news I’m hoping I might not have to explain the bad pun that drives this song. That said, there’s a bit of an autobiographical element to it… not that I sat home alone nights while my gay friends were out having a swell time but rather that I did work as a temp for a regional Bell, working long hours for a few intense weeks, and not only observed the peculiar dynamic of a workplace that was about 2/3 straight women and 1/3 unstraight men but heard more than a few women lamenting the unavailability of the sharp-dressing, well-turned young men. (As one of only several straight men, I thought I would clean up. But it’s harder to compete against them pretty boys than a good ol’ boy like me might imagine… )
Anyway, as I pointed out in the first posting of this song, it was written as part of my 1996 project, The Barista Cycle. That project revolved around songs written using the names of the current distaff staff of my favorite coffee shop. The songs were pointedly not intended to be about their namesakes. Still, fate provided a bit of resonance: the real Michelle eventually left the coffeeshop to become… an airline stewardess. And one of her best friends when last we talked was a handsome young male coworker…
Michelle
Ma Bell was such a strange career choice
I know you did it to be around all them pretty boys
but I’m afraid you will never be annoyed
by smooth operators down in the break room
they’ve all got something else to do
Michelle
Ma bell was no place to meet boys
all the best they’re all just someone else’s toys
all of the strut and all of the noise
all the clothes and all the poise
they’ve all got something else to do
Michelle
It’s a saturday night michelle
It’s a saturday night michelle
It’s a saturday night michelle
And when Monday morning comes around
You know you’ll hear how it all went down
and you know how it’ll make you feel
the same old loneseome way
It’s easy to be sad
when all your boyfriends are gay
Long ago (but not necessarily far away) I went out with an extremely intelligent, talented young woman who was, at the time, even more troubled than I was.
I was having difficulty “committing” to a serious relationship with her (Me? No way… ) and she talked me into seeing a relationship counsellor with the notion that he could counsel me around my aversion.
After spending several sessions laying out the ground rules that my drinking was off-limits (“Hello, my name is TK, I’m an alcoholic and that’s the last we’ll have of that. Let’s move on to why I can’t commit to a steady relationship, thankyavurrymuch…”) we settled into a somewhat labored probing of my psyche — or at least the public areas.
Eventually, after I’d laid out my feelings of interpersonal claustrophobia and we’d probed the wreckage of a recent, stormy two year relationship (with a side trip or two to my turbulent home life as a youth — much of it surely due to my own mercurial mood shifts and borderline Aspergerian monomanias) he finally looked me in the eye and said:
“Well, what do you think you should do? Compassion, guilt, sentiment aside. If you were giving hard-headed advice to a friend in your position — if you were me — what would you say?”
And I thought about it. Not like I didn’t know the answer. I’d just never said it out loud or really even rolled it over in my head.
“Well… I guess I’d tell him to break off the relationship gently but firmly and try to heal his own wounds.”
And he looked at me intently for a while until he made sure I got the point of my own words.
And then he said, “Now if you ever want to talk about that drinking…”
So, being the tower of personal stength and integrity that longtime AYoS readers know me to be… [ahem] … I found myself saying: “Well, honey [I didn’t call her honey — I NEVER used endearments like that which is probably why I’m always drawn to using them in my songs -TK]… well, honey, the Doc gave me some advice… he suggested that we ought to break up. Y’know it tears me up…”
Yeah. I was a huge coward. But this relationship really did scare me. Pondering it was like staring into a place I knew my gaze would never pierce… a place I could never understand.
______________
There are many tips o’ the tam to favorite bands in this song… Sparks, Joy Division, a number of country writers…
PS: Yes… I know that AYoS is a week behind… maybe you’d like to come up here and lend a hand, huh? Really, I’m gonna catch up… there’s plenty more droney songs about whiney losers where these came from…
