Orpheus Breaks-Up the BandPeter Shippy
My minders take me for rides. The guitarist gets tight with dramatists. My face resembles a collage of torn photographs. Each day I wake to new moon-faced girls, laid out like pizza boxes on my hotel roomâ€™s floor. The bass player wants to switch to sitarâ€” she wants us to board the ragatÃ³n train. What is it they teach you at Songwriting School: say autumn not fall. The drummer majors in punch-ups with the paparazzi. He swags all night in maenad clubs. Tell donâ€™t show. My management teamâ€™s makoing deals. Theyâ€™ve signed me to sigh out for cell phones, gyros and Chinese cigarettes (shh, they sayâ€” no one will hear those adverts here). Have you read what the kids are typing in the blogosphere? They act as if I bit Eury on the ass. Like I hired Aristaeus to mug her? Like I placed my snake in the woods, just so? Please. One minute my beautiful wife was gathering flowers (as the poets do not as they say) the next minute sheâ€™s dead. The fanatics once were on my sideâ€” what went wrong? Didnâ€™t they understand the refrain in â€œYouâ€™re the Iliad in My Odysseyâ€? Here, let me sing: When youâ€™re in hell Iâ€™m in bliss which is Hell in old Thrace Nice, huh? And I meant every word, too. Sure we had our ups and downs. But in the end Eurydice was the only one who believed that I was a true artist. She didnâ€™t laugh when I said I wanted to write librettos. So, Iâ€™m going to the underworld to bring her back. Donâ€™t snicker, no there are ways, if you have meansâ€”if you know the right hands to grease. Plusâ€”and donâ€™t read me wrongâ€”I think this might make a nice songâ€” maybe a Broadway show? But first, I need to see a deathly man about a ferry! Always subvert the ordinary with adverbs and exclamation points.
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