Sunday, January 15, 2017

Bruce, Could I Have the GPS Coordinates?

Before he even wrote the words, I did what he told me to do: I grabbed my ticket and suitcase. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I wouldn't be back. When I was weary, I laid my head upon his (figurative) chest. And I took what I could carry. And I left the rest. He did provide for me. He did stand by my side. He has been a great companion for this part of the ride.

But what I'm wondering, my darling Bruce, where, exactly is that fuckin' land of hope and dreams? I'm on board. There's a shitload of saints and sinners, of losers and winners, of whores and gamblers, of the broken-hearted, of thieves and sweet souls departed, and of fools and kings thrown along with me. We're all here.

But, Bruce, man, it seems the train has been stopped dead in its tracks. Bruce, man, it's jumping the tracks. It's derailing.

So we're getting off that train, and we're taking to the streets, and we're preparing to do battle with he-who-shall-not-be-named and his Death Eaters. Remember all of our battles in the '80s through to '93? They're like a walk in the park compared to now. Under George W.? Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.

This is far worse, Bruce. So if you'd be so kind as to give me clear directions on how to get to that land of hope and dreams, I'd be ever so grateful. I'll make my way there as I do battle in the streets.


Lyrics to Springsteen's "Land of Hope and Dreams"
A YouTube video of him performing it at a concert I attended in 2012


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