I am Tommy D_____ Professor of Smozology. You may not remember me since we have never met. Our communication has always been one way. You to me. But let’s not talk of the past, let’s talk of the future me ... and you.
Wait!
A devilishly funny picture in technicolour blue creeps into mind. You’re standing and saying right about now, "As far as I’m concerned this is the end Tommy," and now you’re scrunching me up and tossing me into your furnace tray. No recycling here.
"You shall go no further with me, take yourself elsewhere!" Your words – not mine! I hate it when that happens. My wish is for your daring to tell the whole world what I say – to you. Present me in a way.
I’ve enclosed a sampling of mine. All of it really. A short story. I think it’s a "Very Short Acting Story," somewhat like a poem; acting ’cause it doesn’t qualify in the strictest sense, but is by today’s standards, say yours or mine, probably – a dandy poem. I think it’s actually a tale with rhythm or perhaps a tune without a home.
What say you give it a read. It’s called Karla Too. I present it as a letter to my good friends because that is what it is.
Your Good Friend,
Tommy D_____
To my good friends, Ken Le Something or other, and Terry....
Just kidding! But seriously, how do you spell LeManes?
Tommy D_____
To my good friends, Ken Le Something or other, and Terry....
Just kidding! But seriously, how do you spell LeManes?
Karla Too
This here is the story A thousand years old
Retold - Retold - Retold
A strumming of the bottom strokes
We’ll make her pitch and wail
Pick up the piece start over again
Again and again start over again
Pounding A-pounding O-pound in my head
Roll Over Roll Over don’t you play dead
Hear-ye Hear-ye Hear-ye-all
It was Paul It was Paul It was Paul
Come-a-come-a see yourself – Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a stand in line – Spend a time
Come-a-come-a hear the crime – Come to the court house
For who shall I feel for K-K or Paul
For who shall I feel for whom
I put the question to the test
How many more before I confess
How many more How many more
It was really him I was under a spell
I’m not a witch you know
Remember this Remember this
Who gave her the teddy bear
Remember this Remember this
I’m not a separatist
Come-a-come-a see yourself – Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a hear the deal – Cold as steel
Come-a-come-a Karla Teal – Come to the court house
To have a big heart within a big brain
’Tis enough t’escape t’run in a way
Away from it all away from the fall
Away from the pleasure away from the pain
Away from a love away from a love
Away little girl dressed up in ’er clothes
Away from a love with nowhere to go
What shall I do What shall I do
I be bad – I be bad – I be bad
Come-a-come-a see yourself – Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a hear the lies – Feel the cries
Come-a-come-a see the wails – Come to the court house
Now how shall I present my case
How should I wear my hair
A wounded soul without a trace
How shall I wear my face’n’care
He was cool It was Paul He was cruel
I’ll say A smashing good affair
I’ll tell the words I heard him say
I was only acting in a play
’Twas all his show ’Twas all his way
- I never opened my mouth -
Come-a-come-a see yourself – Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a see the trust – Hear the lust
Come-a-come-a feel a’gust – Come to the court house
The war rages on it goes on it goes on
For some it will never end
Into the night into the night
Will mornin’ ever come t’ light
Fade to the black Fade to the bleak
Fade to the pawn Fade to the weak
Fade t’Goddamn does anybody hear
The beat of a heart wrapped in a soul
Found laying in peace cry under it all
I belong — I belong — I belong
Come-a-come-a see yourself
Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a see the fears
Feel the tears
Come-a-come-a hear the jeers
Come to the court house
This here is the story a thousand years old
How many more How many more
I’ll take you aback where it all begun
Retold — Retold — Retold
We stare into it. We run on our own!
Come this far, can’t never go home.
The shedding of the skin you see!
They came They saw
They gassed up for free
Act one — Scene two — Take three
.......END
Coming To Your Local Theatre In September
“I Loves Ya’ Honey But You Sweat Like a Pig”
Once Again Your Good Friend
Tommy D_____
Professor of Smozology
This here is the story A thousand years old
Retold - Retold - Retold
A strumming of the bottom strokes
We’ll make her pitch and wail
Pick up the piece start over again
Again and again start over again
Pounding A-pounding O-pound in my head
Roll Over Roll Over don’t you play dead
Hear-ye Hear-ye Hear-ye-all
It was Paul It was Paul It was Paul
Come-a-come-a see yourself – Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a stand in line – Spend a time
Come-a-come-a hear the crime – Come to the court house
For who shall I feel for K-K or Paul
For who shall I feel for whom
I put the question to the test
How many more before I confess
How many more How many more
It was really him I was under a spell
I’m not a witch you know
Remember this Remember this
Who gave her the teddy bear
Remember this Remember this
I’m not a separatist
Come-a-come-a see yourself – Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a hear the deal – Cold as steel
Come-a-come-a Karla Teal – Come to the court house
To have a big heart within a big brain
’Tis enough t’escape t’run in a way
Away from it all away from the fall
Away from the pleasure away from the pain
Away from a love away from a love
Away little girl dressed up in ’er clothes
Away from a love with nowhere to go
What shall I do What shall I do
I be bad – I be bad – I be bad
Come-a-come-a see yourself – Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a hear the lies – Feel the cries
Come-a-come-a see the wails – Come to the court house
Now how shall I present my case
How should I wear my hair
A wounded soul without a trace
How shall I wear my face’n’care
He was cool It was Paul He was cruel
I’ll say A smashing good affair
I’ll tell the words I heard him say
I was only acting in a play
’Twas all his show ’Twas all his way
- I never opened my mouth -
Come-a-come-a see yourself – Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a see the trust – Hear the lust
Come-a-come-a feel a’gust – Come to the court house
The war rages on it goes on it goes on
For some it will never end
Into the night into the night
Will mornin’ ever come t’ light
Fade to the black Fade to the bleak
Fade to the pawn Fade to the weak
Fade t’Goddamn does anybody hear
The beat of a heart wrapped in a soul
Found laying in peace cry under it all
I belong — I belong — I belong
Come-a-come-a see yourself
Come to the court house
Come-a-come-a see the fears
Feel the tears
Come-a-come-a hear the jeers
Come to the court house
This here is the story a thousand years old
How many more How many more
I’ll take you aback where it all begun
Retold — Retold — Retold
We stare into it. We run on our own!
Come this far, can’t never go home.
The shedding of the skin you see!
They came They saw
They gassed up for free
Act one — Scene two — Take three
.......END
Coming To Your Local Theatre In September
“I Loves Ya’ Honey But You Sweat Like a Pig”
Once Again Your Good Friend
Tommy D_____
Professor of Smozology
(August, 1995)
5 comments:
i see-i see-i see,
twelve years.
how are you tommy____d?
i hope you are well and marvelous, and i mean marvelous ('how are you?' used to mean something), great prose/poem here, i really enjoyed it. i will probably lose this comment if i type too much for i need sleep, and i am drifting, but i needed to fight through the word verification to step in and say hello and read the Karal Chameleon.
devilishly funny, indeed.
my best and be well,
avi.
but, guess what tommy____d? foreigner me has figuered the Christie mystery. I know who she is. I am an idiot. I need to read much again.
Hi Tommy D,
thought you'd appreciate a head's up that BBC radio 2 has a thing on Leonard Cohen....
And Leonard Cohen is the subject of programme three. Interviewed by Mark Ellen, the reclusive Canadian gives a rare insight into his working methods, including a rare peek into his ideas notebook.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio2/musicclub/doc_songwriting.shtml
Hi Gary, thanks for the link and thanks for thinking about me. The link has expired but I was able to find the interview by going to the BBC Website.
There is only one Leonard Cohen, enigmatically speaking, and I doubt there will be another one during my lifetime. But perhaps in years to come, during a new generation, another Cohen will emerge. I don’t know if the new Leonard Cohen will be Jewish, German, American, English, or a Slav? Who knows, maybe he'll be another Canadian "born with a golden voice" (eh?) or maybe He will be a She, but I strongly doubt it, if God has His way.
Leonard Cohen songs do one of two things for me. I find them either engaging and almost sing-along (it’s not easy to sing-along with him) or they put me to sleep! Quite often the latter given the tone of his music, but when he is upbeat he is unbeatable. (I don’t think upbeat is the correct term but it will do the trick, if you follow me.) No other songwriter can touch him when it comes to songs like, The Future, A Bunch of Lonesome Heroes, Jazz Police, Democracy, First We Take Manhattan, I Can’t Forget, Lover Lover Lover – “come back to me,” So Long Marianne, Everybody Knows, Suzanne, Teachers, There Is A War, and what am I forgetting? Oh yeah, Closing Time!
Tommy D_____
Hi Paul, you tell a nice story, nice insofar as I can relate to it wholeheartedly and nice for those that have not shared your experience for now they have an insider’s view expressing the daily life of the hum-drum factory worker. I’ve been there and your portrayal is accurate. It conjures up a time and place for me.
I spent five years doing numerous factory jobs and one of them was operating a big clunky press. I dreaded every minute of it. But the most dreadful job was dragging red-hot steel bars from a fierce oven and running like a monkey with them. The objective was to drop them into a vat of oil where a conveyor belt would pick them up and move them to the next operation. I wore a big asbestos mitt and handled the hot steel with a pair of heavy prongs. It wasn’t quite hell, but there was a strong resemblance, so I think it’s fair to say it was hellish.
Luckily for me I got laid-off from that a job, and got a new job working for a large international corporation, as a clerk, in the autumn of 1970, September 12 to be exact. Those were the days when companies actually had a job title that included the word “clerk!” Those days are gone – today, nobody wants to be a fucking clerk, so they give clerks a fancy title, and the clerks are happy to do their clerk jobs. I think they replaced the word “clerk” with “analyst” or “controller” and now the clerks are happy with their new titles. So I was an Inventory Control Clerk for a while and then within a few years of hard work and total dedication I was promoted to management.
My responsibilities grew and grew until I had a number of analysts (read clerks) and controllers (also clerks) reporting to me as well as a slew of factory workers – material handlers they were called. The job I had, and I think you can relate to this, did not allow me to actually touch any of the products that we handled, that job was relegated to the factory workers under my supervision, but at the end of the day there were numerous times when I felt like I had worked with a pick and shovel. I was totally exhausted from the mental stress. However, after running like a monkey with red-hot steel in a previous life, I always considered myself very lucky to have the job that I had, and I always treated the people that reported to me with total respect. I think it’s good experience to come-up through the ranks. I think you appreciate other people’s efforts (and their plight) a little more. I know I did.
Tommy D____
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