by Brendan deVallance
Goodbye Blue Monday
1087 Broadway
Brooklyn, New York 11221
June 28th, 2008
The Script
Additional music by The Units and The Reivers
The sawIntro
Situation cemetery — what are you feeling? Running deep? 6 feet under = 3 dead men. Sing a song of sixpence pocket full of crack. Lay waste to the pillagers. History will tell. Like lost overtures and under achievers - overstood on the down low. The crank start magic 8-ball has a lethargic future for sale. Pay phone promises do not come true. Tell you what you want to hear. A Happy tale for just a dollar more, just a dollar more. Stand up loudly. I stand here. A lost cynic on a morbid errand, tale told boldly. Undenied, undersold. Undersold for beauty. A hot day in winter or a musty divided day like day and night. The night is just a dim part of the day. No tears for the night time please. The darkness looks good on the night like this suit on me. I like the abrasion of a day hardworked. Up early, toiling late. I use sandpaper for a kleenex. I forsake to rub you the wrong way. Sorry for it? Yes sorry for it, Proud of it? Yes proud of it. Standing up for it, Yes, standing up for it. Standing up here like politicians standing up for the little guy. The people with no voices. I stand up here like a lone tree in a laid to waste forrest. I am no bean counter that is for sure. But when the price of freedom comes at a cost we cant afford then that is when I take my moment of silence. That is when I make my memorial garden. That is when I beat the drums against the tyrants. Good days and bad days and the days in between. A sandwich anyone? A sand which for you , here any one? See the days is getting better right? Well for you anyway. Seems like it any way . . . .
Meat
Drill on head
Loud
What is that sound? What is that sound? Do you hear that? The sound of a very loud town. My hands shake and my mind bakes at the clown in charge of the unwound town. What is at the center of my unwound town? The drowning land is drying, the waterways are fuming, the center cut is up against the wall. The stake in my heart is a steak for all time. I am the barking dog in the sound proof cage. A sun that shines on a lights out world. You do realize that the suns on all the time right? When it is night the sun is just shining on the other side of the world. Which side of my brain am I thinking on? Guess! A sad sad story told to an iPod hearing crowd. “What did he say?” A list for the fist pounders, undignified and indignant. Shuttered and isolated by barriers of drowned notions. Good ideas past the sell date. Small features lost inside of the dog days. Drinking up my thirsty thoughts in hot weather. I will destroy all lame attempts to shut me up. I must speak the truth or pond the drums at least. My mucked up vision is based on truth but mostly fabricated by sadly strechted misunderstandings. Hot days define us because the watered down versions evaporate. Hand holding moments get away from me. Feet on solid ground. Good natured ribbing and faulty reasoning give me a sad sad feeling, my reality, Helps the sand get thru the hour glass, less fractured, less congested, every grain takes it’s turn.
Fire puppets
Brain with wings
The lights
The Lights
My world unfolding, complicated isn’t it. Water down the spout and out the drain. My happiness, my brain. Still standing still. Some days not sure what the world is for, some days not sure the benefit of waking up, some days laughing loudly in the face of it. Cheese chasers? Yeah, I am one. Looking for the cheese, best route to the cheese. Best route to the end of the human race. It is a race right? A race we are in. A race to the place where there is hopefully cheese. A standard person that eats a standard fare. And asks a stand question about why there is not more light in the dim world. I offer light, energy wasting type. The kind of person that seeks secret sounds, sound that will unlock the lock, break free the shackles of everyday-is-not-ok. Sugar in a cup, sweets for the unsweetened. My life in the machine with a hand out stretched. You reach out too by coming here and are met with this? Ok, well at least now you know, know what you will get, make or lose a bet. Signs point the way to the end. I follow the signs because I know it will be over soon. Sugar on a spoon and I come along quickly. Magic is not really magic, just tricks. And yes, I know a few tricks, but I often keep them to myself. Don’t want to give away the ending, but there is no rabbit in the hat. So stop looking for it and stop asking for it. You will get no rabbit. I know about two things, the truth and the lies. And I know where they live. They do not live here. This is the land of make believe and it fits more comfortably in with the lies, and yes, the lies have it. Good days and bad days and the days that fall in between. I hope for good days but settle for what is ever handed out. Magic moments are often on the menu, but rarely ordered up. Tonights show was brought to you in part by viewers like you. Thanks for the memories, thanks for thinking of me, sorry if I took to long to get to the point. And if you forgive me this once I will remember it next time and the time after that and try my best to get to the point a little fast so the pain of the journey is not so great. Grate on my nerves. And then fly away . . . . . . . . .
Song, guitar plays its self, I play drums
