August 22, 2002

a mysterious woman

I am in Limbo. Not in any big dramatic sort of Purgatory, but a hundred tiny
simultaneous Limboes, waiting for this, needing that to happen before I can do the
other thing. It's too early to talk to him, too late to talk to her, and I forgot
to think about them, and oh yes, am I ready for that.

In other words, I'm a bit bored at the moment, even though I know it's just a lull
between two moments of crazy business.

And just because it amuses me to realize that this is as close as I ever get to
the sort of enigmatic entry some people write every day, here for your humming-
along pleasure are the lyrics to Christine Lavin's Mysterious Woman. (The
song dates back to the 1980s -- I think she had Suzanne Vega in mind when she
wrote it.)

Mysterious Woman

Words and Music by Christine Lavin

Copyright 1988, Flip-A-Jig/Rounder Music

I want to be a mysterious woman

I want to write mysterious songs

I want everyone to wonder

what is she thinking about?

existentialism? nihilism? wrong

I am thinking about

defrosting my refrigerator

but I could get into mysterious mood

watch me ask the bartender

for a drink he cannot make

watch me order mysterious food

food even Julia Child

cannot pronounce right

from cookbooks that time has forgot

then maybe I will read

Crime and Punishment for fun

then again, maybe not

I want to be a mysterious woman

tantalize you with my come-hither stare

maybe it will work a little better

if you pretend I'm not wearing underwear

If you pretend I was never a Girl Scout

and I never learned how to twirl baton


I feel a mysterious song coming on

I think I hear I scream

I think I hear ice cream

melting all over

the rock hard bread

which is stuck to

the chicken parts

long since dead

they're in a cold box

within a cold box

within a warm box

(which is my room)

there's a ceiling

there's a floor

there's a wall

there's a window

look at the moon

it's a marble, it's a button

it's a sequin, it's a polkadot

stiched into the velvet sky

the pocket of Sir Lancelot

who is riding on Pegasus

who is fighting with the Pleiades

who is fighting Cassiopeia

who is fighting with Hercules

who is fighting with Betelguex

who is fighting with the Milky Way

that is stuck to the Bird's Eye Peas

that is stuck to the ice cube tray

that is stuck to the chicken parts

that is stuck to the rock-hard bread

hey, what am I doing here? I should be home defrosting my refrigerator instead

But I want to be a mysterious woman

I hate being so easy to read

hey, bartender, give me a light yeah, a Bud light

and a plate of pommes frites

is all I need.

Posted by dichroic at August 22, 2002 04:59 PM
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