Running to Stand Still*

Sitting on a plane.  Eyes closed. iPod on.  U2 carving right into my head.  Sweet the sin / Bitter the taste / in my mouth.  Wondering what the hell I’m doing.  Why I let the days tick over into months.  Years.  Why the quiet, empty slipping of my life seems ok in the mundane tasks of traffic, work, dishes, travel.  Why it’s only in moments like these, quiet moments, surrounded by the pulse of people but caught in the stillness of myself, that I see the relentlessness of the everyday.  How it devours my days.  Lullabys my unquite with the opiate of survival.  But the song sings to a girl who would tear her clothes and paint her eyes red and wade oceans to cool the raging in her belly.  A girl who would burn up her life in a heartbeat if it meant it could mean more than this. 

 

And so she woke up
Woke up from where she was lyin’ still.
Said I gotta do something
About where we’re goin’.
Step on a fast train
Step out of the driving rain, maybe
Run from the darkness in the night.
Singing ah, ah la la la de day
Ah la la la de day.

Sweet the sin, bitter the taste in my mouth.
I see seven towers, but I only see one way out.
You gotta cry without weeping, talk without speaking
Scream without raising your voice.
You know I took the poison, from the poison stream
Then I floated out of here, singing
Ah la la la de day
Ah la la la de day.
She walks through the streets
With her eyes painted red
Under black belly of cloud in the rain.
In through a doorway
She brings me white golden pearls
Stolen from the sea.

She is ragin’
She is ragin’
And the storm blows up in her eyes.
She will suffer the needle chill
She’s running to stand still.

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18 thoughts on “Running to Stand Still*

  1. kyknoord says:

    As long as there weren’t any snakes on the plane.

  2. michaelm says:

    I love it when my life surprisingly connects with something I’m listening to.
    Unfortunately it doesn’t happen enough.
    As always, Mr. Noord floors me with his comment.
    Nice post, Dolce.
    Thanks so much for the recent visits too.
    btw- you were right about Oniongirl . . .

    ~m

  3. nursemyra says:

    I sense the winds of change…..

  4. daisyfae says:

    after listening to David Bowie’s Changes i stopped doing dishes. Baby steps, but it was a start…

  5. Dolce says:

    @ Kyk > *MUTTHAFUKKKA*

    @ Michael > He does that, doesn’t he. And glad you like her. She’s a word weaver with majik in her veins.

    @ Nurse M > Nah, that’s just the beans I had for lunch!

    @ Dais > Dishes this week, world domination the next. Mwahahahahahaha.

  6. Seraphine says:

    life is what you do between the living.
    the ordinary tick of everyday life is
    relentless, but it is a gift too. and
    when you paint your eyes and wade, that’s
    when your life begins.
    hold the hand of the passenger seated
    next to you in and see what happens.

  7. 302 says:

    and here i always wonder if i dropped the dessert would the floor dent and the plane wobble, you know.

    So instead of worrying about life’s unaswered questions i’ve realised that even if i knew those answers (which i don’t) that the dessert served if flung down the aisle it could potentially cause GHB.

  8. Parenthesis says:

    Hmmm. I can so relate to this. It’s what I tried to articulate in my post birthday blues post. Of course, as usual, your version is succinct, on the mark and oh so well written. I could really land up hating you.

  9. robinaltman says:

    I’m totally depressed. I used to think deep thoughts when I was younger. Now I sit on a plane and wonder if the recycled air is drying out my skin. Sigh.

  10. Dolce says:

    @ Seraphine > my passenger is gripping the armrests and screaming “I want to get off, I want to get off!” 🙂

    @ 302 > I think the dessert is quite happy being devoured and relished. And GHB…Great Hairy Buns? Gigantic Horse Balls? Gerry’s Heinous Breath? 😉

    @ Ms P > I hate you too, lady. So we’re good. Hug?

  11. kyknoord says:

    Gentle Healing Breaths?

  12. thegnukid says:

    why do songs have such a grip over how we lead our lives, yet friends not so much? the constant bombardment? the anonymity of the artist? hell, they’re just as, if not more so, fucked up than the rest of us.

    still, i cling to lyrics as well… for me of late? “Unwritten” – natasha bedingfield

  13. Dolce says:

    @ RobinAltman > Welcome, welcome to the strange world of the Good Life. And I find a little moisterizer in the handbag leaves quite me free to contemplate my navel. Which is hidden under that ridiculous safety belt. Pah!

    @ Kyk > Impossible when your shod feet are 35 gazillion miles from the anchor of mother earth, dude. And didn’t you see what Robin had to say about the recycled air? Phoooof!

    @ Gnu > I luuurve that song. And ja. Music is magik. It curls into us in mysterious ways. My personal sound track de jour also includes “Stuck in the middle with you” by Stealers Wheel. Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the righ…

  14. oniongirl says:

    ah gods. the torturous power of music. i listened to ‘blowing in the wind’ on the week-end and i didnt recover from the resulting fit of ennui until yesterday – then dead can dance had me shuffling about like a zombie harlot last night (nope. it wasnt the meds. not this time!!!)

    this is such a raw/transparent/melancholy post dolly – i bluidy love it… and i ‘get’ it – which is quite something in the zone i’ve been dancing in.

    also, i owe you something good for michael… i’ll think about it and come up with something inventive!

  15. Dolce says:

    @ Oniongirl > Aw thanks for popping in, and you owe me nada but another of your wicked verticals, ‘kay? And the consideration of a dance on those windswept shores, one day. Followed by red wine and whimsy.

  16. Seraphine says:

    we all want to get off.
    maybe that explains the
    human condition…

  17. Dolce says:

    @ Seraphina > Ain’t that the truth…one way or another!

  18. […] year.  Work has been incredible.  My private life has been a fucking shambles.  The old black dog has been biting at my heels and it’s been really hard to find a lot of joy.  I’ve found myself […]

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