Monday, July 11, 2005
Love can make you goofy, can magnify the smallest things and confer upon them huge importance. The manner in which a gift is received, the way in which we represent our relationship to the outside world, the smallest detail of a letter or a phone call. Here's a song for the clown in all of us: "I bring you plates from Rome/You say they look fantastic/I say we're having fun/Nothing like that Italian plastic/I bring you rocks and flowers/You say they look pathetic/You pick me up at night/I don't feel pathetic." You have to be able to look at yourself and laugh, the songs seems to be saying, despite the importance, the depth, the bigness of being with someone. And insecurity can make that very, very difficult to do. "When you wake up with me/I'll be your glass of water/When you stick up for me/Then I'll be your bella bambino, your man on the moon/I'll be your little boy running with that egg on his spoon/I'll be your soul survivor, your worst wicked friend/I'll be your piggy-in-the-middle, stick with you to the end." Every line is puffing itself up and then pricking the balloon.