Drinking With Our Ghosts
10/13/08 21:04
I’m sure it’s no surprise to those who read this blog
or know me personally that I often sit down here in
the bunker drinking beer you can’t see through,
listening to music and philosophizing. A while back,
lefty that I am, and based on the title alone, I
dropped $0.99 on a song for my iPod called Oil
Man’s War by Kathleen Edwards. Maybe it’s the
beer, but I’m really digging it. Here’s a sample of
the lyrics:
But it’s not really the anti-war aspect of the song that has my attention right now, it’s the depiction of that distinctly human trait characterized by two people joining their lives and looking into the future together. Facing adversity together. Dreaming together. Like most men, I’m a romantic at heart, a sucker for the (largely fictional) happy ending.
Sometimes me and her go out to a local pub and play Keno. It's a bingo-like lottery game whereby the state of Misery separates people who don't understand math from their extra cash. You choose anywhere from one to ten numbers in the range of 1 thru 80, darkening in the little bubbles on the entry form (I fill in the sheet because she can’t see up close any more.) and then sit back and watch the video screen above the back bar as electronic balls are lobbed from off-screen to land with a colorful splash on a field of 8 rows of 10 numbers. (She monitors our progress because I can’t see far away any more.)
We play four numbers; hers, mine, her mother's, my father's. Put in 10 dollars and win 3 or 4 back, drink a few high-dollar beers and talk about after. After the kids. After the house. After (and if) we retire. The important thing is we’re still dreaming together, still chasing that happy ending.
You can't say it's just a matter of pride
I've been living here since I was a child
And now I'm just a simple man
But even my dreams I deserve to have
I won't change my mind
Keep your hand on my thigh tonight
When we get up north
We'll buy us a store
Live upstairs after the kids are born
And I'm not gonna die
So keep your hand on my thigh tonight
'Cause when we get up north we'll buy us a store
I won't fight in an oil man's war
I won't fight in an oil man's war
But it’s not really the anti-war aspect of the song that has my attention right now, it’s the depiction of that distinctly human trait characterized by two people joining their lives and looking into the future together. Facing adversity together. Dreaming together. Like most men, I’m a romantic at heart, a sucker for the (largely fictional) happy ending.
Sometimes me and her go out to a local pub and play Keno. It's a bingo-like lottery game whereby the state of Misery separates people who don't understand math from their extra cash. You choose anywhere from one to ten numbers in the range of 1 thru 80, darkening in the little bubbles on the entry form (I fill in the sheet because she can’t see up close any more.) and then sit back and watch the video screen above the back bar as electronic balls are lobbed from off-screen to land with a colorful splash on a field of 8 rows of 10 numbers. (She monitors our progress because I can’t see far away any more.)
We play four numbers; hers, mine, her mother's, my father's. Put in 10 dollars and win 3 or 4 back, drink a few high-dollar beers and talk about after. After the kids. After the house. After (and if) we retire. The important thing is we’re still dreaming together, still chasing that happy ending.
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