Saturday, February 28, 2009

Will Oldham, in his enormously valuable one-off appearance as half of the duo Superwolf, opened the record with the lyric "I have often said/that I would like to be dead/in a shark's mouth", which was earthshaking to me then as a shark-obsessed suicide-in-waiting who revered W. Oldham as she has never revered another. Too much a coincidence not to seem special and meaningful and fated, since it was how I too would most like have been dead, though back then I wouldn't've been picky. Now I LOVE LIFE, so I don't want to maimed and ended by a shark, I want their LOVE, REGARD and FRIENDSHIP. This is of course impossible. It's what I want, but what I will settle for is one of these black-tipped reef numbers, common as seagoing pigeons in Philippines waters I hear, with which to luxuriate in a tepid bath, singing to her horribly arch little Magnetic Fields-ish ditties about keeping on her smooth side. Well-fed and luminous as she will be, sharing my mongoose-cat's perpetually ample supply of little oily fish, she will feel no particular need to bite me once she grows past the wee-sharklet stage (I believe they are truly called PUPS as though needed more encutenment), and this disinclination to attack I will choose to take as affection and fondness. Not LOVE though, which as observed above is not a rational desire.