A Ritual to Read to Each Other
If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.
For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.
And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.
And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.
For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.
Remember Kim Wilde? I didn't think so.
But I do! Granted, it's not much of a memory, really nothing more than a hazy recollection of hearing one of her last pop hits on the FM radio of my Toyota Corolla in 1985. Since then, nobody in the English-speaking world has paid the slightest attention to Wilde. Allmusic devotes precisely one sentence to her later career: "Wilde continued to record in the '90s, scoring the occasional hit, either in the dance or adult contemporary field." You can almost hear the author filing his fingernails and yawning.
Needless to say, if the Anglo world has forgotten about a pop star, this is the cue for Germans — with their charming loyalty to faded relics of pop-music history — to step in and save the day. And lo, Wilde just played a concert in a large venue in Frankfurt, Germany, and the concert was actually reviewed in one of Germany's leading newspapers (g)! And Wilde was joined on stage by members of — wait for it — Kajagoogoo and Alphaville!
“For a good blow job, a man will do just about anything. What can I do with that knowledge? I have no idea.”
This lapidary observation on human nature is brought to you by a great Wired feature on how technology is changing prostitution — by, for instance, making pimps superfluous.
I haven't watched it yet, but even the first couple of minutes strike many right notes, such as the dig at "war-obsessed Britons" and the wholesale dismissal of Schlager (h/t JR):
More after I shake some pesky work obligations!