You can see the river
from the place where he drowned
whisky after whisky until dry land
was just a wistful dream
someplace between
proud and plowed under.
He felt like seaweed
pulled loose
trapped in a current
that swirled
ever farther to sea.
There’s something reassuring and familiar and — get this — liberating — in a hangover.
That’s the way I used to feel.
Sometimes, even a decade and a half later, waking up sluggish (musta fell asleep with my face in the pillow again) I’ll grasp my coffee mug with the sort of grimly firm grip of someone who thinks the still liquid morning might somehow melt through his fingers and end up a puddle on the kitchen floor.
A hangover, I found, was a great excuse. Not for bosses, maybe. And not always for girlfriends.
But when you stumbled out of bed, carefully putting one foot flatly in front of the other in that gravity-must-be-crazy-today walk of the seasoned, habitual drunk… you knew you were doing the best you could… just stumbling into the blinding morning light.
I miss that kind of certainty…
Angel in the Bottle
previous versions
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Saturday, April 21, 2007
lyrics
Angel in the Bottle
There’s an angel
in the bottle
but the devil’s still alive
inside of me
I’m sitting
here in limbo
got my whole life
in back of me
Baby I thought
I’d be the one to save you
but I never dreamed
I couldn’t even save myself
Well there’s one thing
that by now is plain
through these forty years
of life death and change
There’s something broken
down inside of me
deep down inside you see
I’ve got this pain
Baby I thought
I’d be the one to save you
but I never dreamed
I couldn’t even save myself
There’s an angel
in the bottle
but the devil’s still alive
inside of me
(C)1990, 2005, TK Major
I‘m not the first drunk to suggest that he drank not to forget but to not care. I found that the latter state was typically arrived at just before the former.
I also found that, if you were careful, you could get into that state early in the evening and stay in it until, oh, sometime… sometime when it just didn’t matter, anymore.
I found myself stymied by this song over the last few days. I’d recorded a version of it and started to put it up on the web… but as I listened to it, I realized it simply wasn’t up to the high standards of…
OK, no, seriously, even I couldn’t browbeat myself into putting that version up. The next day, as much because I’d written down the song title in a draft of the day’s AYoS blog entry, I found myself both compelled and unable to finish the song. And move on.
But the song defied me. Hell, it laughed in my face. Late each night I tried again to get an acceptable version. It became, you know, a thing.
I finally turned the song inside out and stripped out the familiar blues elements and repetitions.
I suppose I ought to have a periodic disclaimer that stipulates that I’m painfully aware of how far from pitch my singing typically is. I like to think of it as… uh… expressive.
previous:
Saturday, November 05, 2005
related:
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Friday, March 24, 2006
BLUE RECOLLECTION
Now the last thing I remember
You were walking out the door
My hand reached for the bottle
then there ain’t no more
you’re just a blue recollection
that ain’t nothin’ new
I been having trouble forgetting
to remember that I don’t still love you
I wake up at nite
but it ain’t because of you
I’m just listening to the plaster crack
and the clock tick in the next guy’s room
you’re just a blue recollection
that ain’t nothin’ new
I been having trouble forgetting
to remember that I don’t still love you
Now the last thing I remember
You were walking out the door
My hand reached for the bottle
then there ain’t no more…
I lay awake at night, baby
but it ain’t because of you
I’m just listening to the plaster crack
and the clock tick in the next guy’s room…
ANOTHER DEAD SOLDIER (IN THE WAR ON ALCOHOL)
Woke up this morning
wondering about last night
kinda think I coulda took some drink
but my memory just don’t serve me right
Now the last thing I remember
You were walking out the door
My hand reached for the bottle
and then there ain’t no more
Just another dead soldier
in the war on alcohol
put him with his brothers
line ’em up against the wall
Just another dead soldier
in my war on alcohol
I won’t be satisfied
til I’ve killed them all
I lay awake at night, baby
but it ain’t because of you
I’m just listening to the plaster crack
and the clock tick in the next guy’s room
You’re just a blue recollection
but that ain’t nothing new
I’m gonna drown than memory
it’ll be the last thing I do
Copyright 1982, T.K. Major