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Hollow-Holler
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2004-08-17 - 12:22 a.m.
I was singing about the Poor Wayfaring Stranger this evening, where the finest lyrics are in verse 3: "I want to shout salvation's story, In concert with the blood-washed band." Now, as this song is about the inevitable death journey, I had always envisioned literal blood drenched saints in heaven, possibly battle victims. I realize now, this evening, that they actually reference the washed clean phenomenon of Jesus' blood. I must admit disappointment, but I do like how as a younger woman, the first time that I played this song, I never even questioned that the blood wash wasn't a gory vignette. Why? Because folk ballads, and battle cries, and colonial tunes, and old american melodies don't even think twice about being all shocking. Gory deaths, plagues, these were the realities that you sung your children to sleep with. I wish I could write a song like that.The house feels strained and cagey, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what is wrong because there's no talking. While making my Parenthetical girls t-shirt, i've realized how truly up my alley this whole miniature clothing business is. The idea of making miniature underclothes is like a crazy Willy Wonka dessert or something, like licking wall paper. It's going to be so satisfying. And what I think will happen is the newly arm-shorn corduroy jacket will have a set of underg's on each front pocket. There will be a ribbon clasp in place of button, there will be, I think, pink ribbed cotton at the arms. A jacket/t-shirt series. I found out just now that I have 10 more dollars than I originally thought, which is to say that now I have 14. Thank you.
I wish I was in the land of cotton.
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