A couple of my boys are here but my wife is out of town this week and it's lonely. A song has been haunting me that, of course, popped up on shuffle play this morning. I really like this odd and hard-to-interpret song of Paul Simon's that, while clearly about a liberated woman of the 60's, sure sounds like my dear wife:
When she goes, she's gone.
If she stays, she stays here.
The girl does what she wants to do.
She knows what she wants to do.
And I know I'm fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.
Besides my temporary loneliness, and my own "dubious soul," there is also that odd, dream-like sequence in the song for which I haven't found a good explanation other than maybe some chemical influence that Simon may have been under. And we can't discount it for all that because we'd equally have to dispense with great, creative artists like Poe, Faulkner, Cole Porter, etc.
But back to the point. I just sent off another research assignment to my family history specialist in Wales. I have to find that tailor!
Prior to this lifetime
I surely was a tailor, look at me . . .
I own the tailor's face and hands
I am the tailor's face and hands . . . .
I don't think I am literally that tailor. And I'm not a believer in reincarnation. Yet that tailor may still be a part of me and I a part of him.
Dubious Soul. That would be a good name for a blog!!