I’m so reminded of the Beatles’ classic ‘Ah, look at all the lonely people’. With the classic prophetic lines:
Yonatan Solberg, writing the words
for a song-thing that no one will hear/
No one comes near
Word Press kinda does that to anyone ‘still human after all these years.’
At any rate, (metaphorically) I found, tossed out on the sidewalk the jar where she kept her favorite tunes (‘Who were they
for ‘?)
And having recently discovered the true delight of sending tunes to a sweet co-conspirator here, …jus’ because she asked
nicely, I’m thinking to post daily a song from that above-mentioned jar I chanced upon. Five minutes later, and it would have
been tossed into a dumpster, lost to history.
So without further angst, here’s a C&W style sing-along.
This fellow is tryin’ to look like a nobody. So as not to ‘attract flies’. Yo, never knew what my own excuse was… ’till I
heard the tune.
Lyrics:
You can hardly recognize the man you tripped on
Down ‘n out, tired, an’ feeling blue
Everything I didn’t lose
Guess I gave away?
Nothing left I ever got from you…
I went from rags to riches
Now I’m back with ‘my own kind’
which is exactly
where you wanted me to be
Last night I laid awake and thought about you:
Thought about the little thangs you said..
Your love was like a burning Sun
Now you’re just someone I
can’t remember when you crawled out of my bed
Don’t let the clothes deceive you
I never could believe you could have
Thrown away a Decent Man like me
-instr-
Chorus:
I’m tryin’ to look like nobody
No girl could ever love..
‘specially if she looks like you
an’ fits me like a glove
Well it’s time to take my broken heart
an’ give it to somebody smart-enough
to never love a girl like you
I’m tryin’ to look like nobody
No girl could ever love..
‘specially if she looks like you
an’ fits me like a glove
Well it’s time to take my broken heart
an’ give it to somebody smart-enough
to never love a girl like you
jxsolberg 
Mixed reviews on the song. The human loved it. The cat is nowhere to be seen. (She’s not really a fan of country, so perhaps didn’t come with an open mind.)
I have a theory. It’s still a secret.
Happy holiday.
sitting on pins and/or needled for your theory.
I do write mostly for animals; too bad, her loss.
Perfected bluegrass banjo one summer using our assembled multitude of Jersey cows as my target audience. Protected by the electric fence, in case things got rowdy. I’m still unsure whether they ‘got’ what in hell ‘broke-down’ on Foggy Mountain. They were also very similar to my ‘fans’ when I played twice-weekly for the psych-ward patients in Lancaster, PA: You can wow ’em, temporarily, with an energetic song, but once the music’s over, you start from zero in the next tune. Stellazine’ll do that.
Well, I’ve listened about 6 or so times to the tune. I like it that much.
I’ll tell you my theory later on. For now, you wait. (said with a little wink and hair toss. ouch. that hurt)
“I’m tryin’ to look like nobody
No girl could ever love..”
An interesting, perhaps subliminal, perhaps ironic, double negative.
Maybe that’s the human condition: why we go to ludicrous and agonising lengths in the horrific business of courtship; why we invent Gods; why we perform on our various stages. To avoid being somebody that nobody could ever love.
The protagonist in the song strenuously denies it, while ‘naively’ confirming it. Poignant.
Though I shy away from self-characterization as ‘poignant’, your take on this is quite intriguing. The fellow/ bloke? punter? seems to have cauterized his ‘search-4-love’ glands, realizing that they impel him specifically to ‘someone who looks like you, and fits me like a glove.’
A decent man like him, he contends, deserves ‘Heaven or Bust’.
Claims not to remember when she crawled of his bed, but in our conversations, the date appears to be 6 October 1981, at about 11:30 AM.
I’ve advised him to ‘Dress for Success’ .. but, you know, once jaded, a ‘why bother? attitude is understandable, I guess.
He also denies being ‘poignant’ preferring ‘ping-ponged’ His matches with this chick/bird/ lady were mostly spent retrieving the ball from under the dresser, on his knees.
And so perhaps ‘posture’ is the key here: a fulfilling relationship is best spent either upright or prone. Men on their knees are either, as you mentioned, inventing Gods, or … ‘paying homo-age (sp?)
Deep thanks for helping me to consider, for the first time, what the original intent of the writer may have been.
Of course, however poignant the penguin, I would not presume to second-guess the writer’s intentions. But your friend protesteth too much, i.e. an even number of times. Double-denial is an affirmation! Logic will out…
Aha: could well be he was ‘sick that day’ when double negatives were discussed.
His as-expected rebuttal: ‘I ain’t got no body!’
And his ‘found on street ‘Spring collection’ proves him this morning once again to be in fact corporeal, although studiously lacking any sartorial charm.
Shades of St. James Infirmary here: “She can look the whole wide world over, she’ll never find a good man like me.”
Yes, but at times a small consolation; she missed out; bully for me’