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Adult Film

by Tim Kasher

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1.
American Lit 03:14
I've got a story to tell, and though I'm not sure what it is, I'm sure it's funny as hell. And TRAGIC and DRAMATIC and personal and universal. It's about a boy with stars in his eyes. Or, maybe just a man whose dreams were never realized. Whichever one it is, it's essential I get it just right: 'cause we are GREAT AMERICANS! Our novels need to be written. My point of view must be heard. I'll set my soapbox on the mountaintop and bark out every word. And the echoes will bellow and billow over this great Earth. Or, am I missing the point? A view from the top could overlook the hoi polloi. In the trenches with the henchman is the benchmark of experience. 'Cause we are great Americans. Our novels need to be written, and then the book becomes a film. And then the film becomes a MODERN MASTERPIECE (This is my acceptance speech). And when our bones are burned to ashes, and great, great grandkids are doing acid, they'll give two shits about all this insipid brilliance. But don't get angry, don't get discouraged, our constant efforts are more than worth it - we have our voices, singularly we sing: "Yes, we are great Americans! Our novels need to be written!" So what if they end up microfiche - at least they landed in the annals of our libraries. And then the book becomes a film...
2.
And I know, I know, I know the end is near. I know because the storm clouds have appeared upon your brow when I come around. The lightning in your eyes could burn me down. And I know, I know I worry way too much. And I know you wish I wasn't so affixed to this affliction of our time. It's impossible to appreciate a life flashed before our eyes. I was six years old learning how to swim, then I was thirty six wondering how I sunk. It's as if the record jumped. I know you wish I was here in the now, taking stock in the fact you're still hangin 'round. And I truly do - I'm just truly freaking out. I truly believe the sky is falling down. And I know, I know, I know the end is near. And I know, I know it's all down hill from here; we're all cascading to our graves, tugging back at gravity's reigns. And I know, I know the end will swallow us whole. And I know because, well… that's just how it goes; we all erode eventually. I don't believe the fairytale of our eternity: that carrot dangled through our youth, and didn't it seem a tad obscene? Your grandparents and pets waiting for you? It scares me to death I might outlive you all, all the eulogies, all the funeral costs. All jokes aside, I simply can't bear the thought. I hope I'm first in line when the dominoes start to fall. And I know, I know, I know the end is near. And I know, I know you're gonna disappear; I'll turn away, and POOF - you're gone. This life's a dirty prank, but still, I'm glad to be put upon.
3.
Where's your heart lie when you're lying next to me? Does it murmur your uncertainty? Does it beat to keep the rhythm of the doldrums (you've been banging them for months)? You sure were something before I bled you of your love. Where's your heart lie when you're lying next to me? Does it lie inside a fantasy of us living blissfully, swaddled in denial, naive to who I was before I fucked it up And stripped you of your love? What's your heart think about you and me? Does it blame you for settling? When I was good you wanted loving every morning - Now, you hardly give a fuck. Goddamn, what's wrong with me? I'm ruining your love.
4.
I've got my blinders on so I can't see the cruel periphery. I don't care what's unraveling out there, just please don't entangle me. She's left eleven messages, I let them all delete- Oh, honestly, honestly, I don't care who you're out with. Honestly, honestly, I don't wanna hear about it now. No, I don't need to be the first to know, however noble that makes you feel. I've got my headphones on, I'm lost in song, hidden in the beat. So, when she waves me down I turn around and softly begin to sing, "Honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly…" Oh, honestly, honestly, you don't need my permission. Honestly, honestly, I don't need an explanation at all. Not at all. No, I don't want to hear the tale be told of the cuckold and the shrew. Honestly, honestly, I am not upset about it. Honestly, honestly, I don't want to hear about it now. Not now. I've got my blinders on so I can't see who's lying next to me.
5.
We found a two-flat on a one way street with views of River Styx out on the balcony. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah, uh-huh. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah. We shop and shop for matching furniture sets, digging six feet into debt - a fitting place for the bed. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah, uh-huh. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah. The days are dreams of strategies and schemes; the big picture is too small. The nights are merry drinking on the porch, we'd scream, "LIFE AND LIMBO" We talk and talk about the people we'll be, with a rich imagination and piss poor means. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah, uh-huh. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah. The fairy tale ending's not the portrait it seemed, yet we're still caking on the make-up, we're still making believe. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah, uh-huh. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah. The present is a gift we'd sooner swap for the money. The future is a fiction we never wrote: LIFE AND LIMBO. We found a two-flat on a one way street. We told ourselves the move was only temporary. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah, uh-huh. We live in Limbo, Limbo, yeah. The present is a gift that never quite seemed to fit right. The future is a fiction, so let it go. LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO LIFE AND LIMBO...
6.
Lay down your weapons, you don't wanna hurt no one. And anyway, what's done is done - sure, it was wrong, but blood will beget blood. You really want to rake me over the coals? Your past is in the trash but the bags are still out on the curb, mere feet from our happy home. Mine was a landmine I left out in the unkempt yard: cigarette butts stained with lip gloss. You had been away on a four day weekend. I could've picked them up, but what's the fuss? You could use the clue, and hey - they could've been my sister's. You don't know, and it's killing you. Lay down your weapons, you don't know how to use that thing. Are you even sure which way it's pointing? You're familiar with the first to cast a stone. Your motives are too shaky to aim true. The problem lies not in that we fight but the weapons that we choose. So, lay your weapons down.
7.
The solitude of dusk. Another day the Sun's abandoned us. Shadows are drawing long upon the far bookshelf. The trappings of our home stand solemn as the columns of a morgue. Cars creeping through the night splash light upon your framed photo. Like I've seen a ghost. It's like I've seen a ghost. I've let myself become obsessed and you've become too close. You scare me to death; surely, you'll leave me yet. And when the going's good I'm constantly convinced that it's a curse. With my luck, we'll marry, have two lovely children and a ranch in the 'burbs where we'll be murdered. I wake up in a sweat: the nightmare where you're dragged under the bed. And each time I close the bathroom mirror I'm certain your ghoul will appear. Like I've seen a ghost. It's like I've seen a ghost. The more I try to love someone, the more the horror grows. You scare me to death; surely, you'll leave me yet. By car crash or heart attack or simply losing interest.
8.
Waiting for my ship to come. I'm afraid it may have sunk. We're waiting our whole lives for apple pie then demand another slice. Still, I've got a good degree, but what's that even mean? English Lit's essentially horse shit, taught me to rhyme like an idiot. If you can't do then teach, or keep staring out to sea. I'm done pining for a silver lining; beneath the shadow of my doubt a rain cloud is a rain cloud. I put away my divining rod, it simply wasn't panning out. Still, my thoughts they tend to drift, I'm afflicted with what-ifs. "What if I had married and had kids?" What if I still did. And when I think my ship might land, I write 'til my hand cramps: I write of a Titanic swallowed whole, stuck in Poseidon's throat. Go ahead and wish upon a star, but do you have to wish so hard? 'Cause I'm done pining for a silver lining. Beneath the shadow of my doubt a rain cloud is a rain cloud. I put away my divining rod, it simply wasn't panning out. No more dancing around quixotic fancies. it's aiding and abetting when a daydream's just a daydream. But what if my ship's still at sea? What if rain clouds have silver linings?
9.
Keep playing. Keep playing regardless what noise you're making. Keep banging, keep banging, pummel that piano until it croaks. The constant song: a tap dance in morse code. Keep writing. Keep writing even if inside you're dying. Keep trying, keep trying - so music's outstretched arms have fallen short. The constant song: a symphony in semaphore. Keep singing. Keep singing, I'm certain somebody's listening. Keep dancing, keep dancing, and yes, they do shoot horses when they're maimed - but you're just sprained. I thought we hoped to die before we got old. The constant song: a looping distress signal.
10.
Mother's found a lump. Suddenly, everyone's preparing for a visit; we need to say the words she never said. She's bought a wig for going out, but when it itches she let's her hair down. We avert our eyes from death, and wonder which of us is next. Summer's slumbers kept us younger; the world's a perfect place when you don't know what's swept under the rug - just the nose upon your face. Don't look behind the curtain, in innocence we are all saints. My father lost his father to a cancer that left everyone unanswered. Now, no one dares to ask about him anymore. I wonder, if his father had lived, would they have settled their differences? Will we settle ours yet? Or bear these grudges to our deaths. Autumn's fallen, hallways darken. The world's a scary place, it's best not to know what's under the bed. Behind the closet door. Your innocence is bliss; don't sully it with what's unknown. Winter's fingers are boa constrictors. The world is full of heartbreak and loss and maddening joy - one begets the other. I don't regret the honey or the sting. Now, I lay me down to sleep.

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released October 8, 2013

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Tim Kasher Los Angeles, California

Cursive / The Good Life / Me. Fourth solo album, Middling Age, out in April 2022 on 15 Passenger Records!

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