1/10/2005 10:18:08 PM|||Amy|||This song has been running through my head. Running through my head the way a brainwashing mantra can run through your head. Not that I know anything about brainwashing. Yet.

But, this song. See, I love Leonard Cohen. I love everything about him without ever having actually met him. He is the ideal man. The source of virility.

My sister accused me of being ADD. I just realized that the reason why she might think I am ADD is because I am not very good at multi-tasking even though multi-tasking is the exact word to describe how I think and live. While I am sitting here typing this mundane crap about why and how Leonard Cohen is better than Tabasco, I am also listening to John talk some shit about Moveable Type. I am also thinking about my bank account balance, and how I will probably never get laid again, and how Monkey needs to get into a posh preschool and how Bear will probably pee in the bed again tonight. And how the sadistic bastards I call my father and my soon-to-be-ex let Winston sleep all goddamn, fucking day (see! I at least know enough to put a comma between goddamn and fucking!). I am also wondering about what jury duty will bring tomorrow. One of the lawyers was kind of attractive. I wonder if he's attached partner-wise to anybody. And other stuff which is way too fucking boring for me to write even here - which yes, I know, might be viewed as the repository for boring shit which comes straight off the top of a neurotic, suburban, mom to three (or five)'s head.

Then, every once in a while I look over at John and he's saying something like "blah blah blah comment spam blah blah blah block it blah pain in the ass blah blah thousands of comments with links to websites blah blah blah moveable type."

Huh? What? Why? I use blogger. I could give a shit about adding Moveable Type's problems to my inner chaotic monologue.

Anyway. Back to Leonard Cohen, the symbol of virility.

I adore this song in the way you say adore when what you really mean is LOVE.

I adore Leonard Cohen.

Famous Blue Raincoat
It's four in the morning, the end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.

I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You'd been to the station to meet every train
And you came home without Lili Marlene

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody's wife.

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane's awake --

She sends her regards.
And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad you stood in my way.

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear

-- Sincerely, L. Cohen


I just really, really miss my mom.|||110541777913458373|||This Song, This Song, This Song1/11/2005 10:22:02 PM|||Judy The Great|||What? There is something wrong with being ADD???? I've been to your site at least 5 times today but this is the first time I've managed to read past the first two sentences! Sheesh!

I have a migrain or I'd be witty and entertaining in this comment, but fuck I hurt.

let's do something together soon.