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"K" is For Catherine

by The Bonaduces

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1.
You left the lights on. The battery’s gone dead. Check the bus stop and opt to jog instead. Cut across the path in the back but we’re way too loud. You’re laughing in your classic style and stumbling around. Hop up on a tree stump, but I can’t jump the fence unless I strip two feet off the end of my dress. Anna sees us running away and she calls the police, and you start clutching at your chest like you’re trying to breathe. And I know, and I know, and I know what you’re doing. And I know, and I know, and I know what you’re doing. And I know, and I know, and I know what you’re doing. And I know. Tapping into NORAD on my Commodore 64 would be an easier thing to do than get you through that door. Sliding down the drainpipe again, we make another attempt, with the same hedging from you and the same struggle for breath. Chorus. This guarantees we won’t get far. Val left her inhaler in the car.
2.
Holly 03:24
Holly, maybe it’s a clue that something’s strange when you’re lying in pajamas in the rain and screaming nonsense. Holly, my sandals are solid on the street while you’re stuck in stocking feet, soaked on the sidewalk. Holly, your closet full of turtlenecks (all black) made me think it was just an act. I’ve been so stupid. But, Holly, I swear I’ll take you seriously now, though I wonder exactly how I should approach you when all the spaces in your head become like border lines instead around your dormitory bed. I’ll get you past them then, this time for real. And what does this mean to you? I know you’re not in any shape to say. What does this mean to me? I know that when you’re pushing me away, you think you’re doing me a favor. Well, you’re someone that I’ll stay for now. Holly, this waiting room is all I’ve seen. I’m thumbing through a children’s magazine to curb my worry. But, Holly, I’m still the one you cannot drive away. By your side I swore I’d stay, and I’m still right here. I’ve had this blanket since I was born. It’s all chewed up, it’s all torn. I know it will not keep you warm, but maybe you’ll see its ratty charm when you can heal. Chorus.
3.
There’s a girl on a corner with a siamese cat like a siamese twin hiding in her backpack. She says to her kitty, “Kitty, why do you want to go?” He says, “I don’t feel loved, as if you didn’t already know.” I watch the girl get on a bus, and the cat ducks down so he doesn’t cause a fuss. One hand in her pocket, one hand through her hair, and it takes her three minutes to dig out her fare. And the cat’s head pokes up, and he’s whispering, whispering, “When are you going to take some time for me? When are you going to tell me you’re sorry now? I’ve been patient all my life, and now I’m going to live what’s left behind.” I watch them both with my telescope, watching both of her hands on a bottle of Coke, and her medic alert tag says she’s okay, just allergic to peanuts so she’d better stay away. The cat sees me, he senses my eyes, and he says in sign language that he doesn’t really mind. I try to wave him back with a semaphore flag, but he’s launched his head deep inside the bag. But I can see it in his mind, and he’s whispering, whispering chorus. From Washington to Bethlehem, he walks the streets, walks them over again, and he posts his heart on a telephone line and he plants his shoulders on a parking fine. But I can see it in his mind, and he’s whispering, whispering chorus.
4.
Sara Shut Up 02:23
Packed my suitcase and walked out the door. Stumbled back in and packed some more. I’m not taking my lenses along, because I’m short-sighted even with them on. And I guess this constitutes running away, though it’s months and months delayed. I’m through with self-pity here. I’m making the big changes to self-pity in new places. Killing some time on the observatory deck. Maggie’s St. Christopher around my neck. Watching airplanes chug off with grace while Syd keeps howling in her carrying case. And I kneel down to tell her what’s going on and why she has to come along. She’s the only thing that keeps me sane, though debatable it might be that that word would describe me. So hey, I’ll shut up, because there’s na-na-na-na-nothing left to say. It’s okay. You’re nowhere near me anyway. And hey, hey, Sara. Shut up Sara. Sara shut up, I say it to myself again. Sara shut up, in the voice of an absent friend. Sara shut up, I say it to remember you and everything I didn’t do. Sara shut up. Since you’ve gone, I act out scenes from our old arguments to blow off steam. And I play you and the cat plays me and I never look too good, obviously. There’s a message that’s on my machine. It’s been there for over a year. I can’t take it off. I play it back to hear you. I pretend it’s brand new. Chorus.
5.
Punching in, I see my reflection in the time clock. I’m shaking and I’m flushed. The aftermath of our fall-out. I didn’t want to walk away, but I’ve been working here a month and I’ve missed a ton* already. My body is wrapped up in a uniform. An old man is staring at my breasts. His excuse is the name tag. The flourescent lights are giving me a migraine. I trace the outline of your name on the pressure cooker. And it’s so hard. There’s always something else to do. My shoulder’s aching and I’m getting so confused, because I just want to be with you tonight. I just want to spew apologies. I just want to be with you tonight, but work continues to impose. Neon sign glows: “We Never Close.” I picture you, wrapped up in a comforter. Red pajamas with a hood. You rub your feet while you’re sleeping. Azrael is moving in close to you. He sends you subliminals, like, “I hate my vegan cat food.” And it’s so hard to try and concentrate. I’m losing focus at either end of things. Chorus. I’ve got hours left of this, and I’m wound up so tight. My eyes gloss over when they order. They ask if I’m all right. Well, I don’t like looking at beef at the best of times, and now I’m covered up in grease when I want to sort out this mess in my life. Chorus.
6.
Carla screamed out my name from behind her bedroom door. Her face was wild and red. I asked what she was flipping for. Checking out an ancient tape of her grade five ringette team. Something started acting up, so she gave it the routine. Holy jeez, when you’ve got a problem, figure out some other way you could solve them. You’re acting like our father did when we were just two little kids. Raise your fist to anything. Rage against obsolete machines. Beat on the Betamax. Beat on the Betamax. Beat on the Betamax until it shows you what you want to see. And that’s how they’d treat you and me. Summer five years ago, I was a Radio Shack thief. I stole a lame microphone for my tape deck thingie. I wrote a little song for you on my miniature guitar and played it over and over again. You laughed so hard. Then you glued that tape inside of your ghetto blaster. Then you tied it to your handlebars. You swore it made you faster. But that was then and this is now. We got away and the tape wore out. But find it in your memory and take it back to what it means. Chorus.
7.
I can’t wait for the summertime. This school stuff drags me down. When the last class rolls around, I’m just restless from the day. Sure, it seems like I’m doing fine. I’ve got the best friend I’ve ever had, but because of her it’s way too sad to hang around here anyway. My old friends think I’m looking freakish. You join in with their koo-koo-ka-clique-ish style, and I don’t want to give you away. Lunch time and I’m going crazy. I see you here and I don’t know what to say. I’ve been making friends with the narc. Friends with the narc. Friends with the narc, but when she’s playing her part, it’s hard to know when the friendship starts. We went to Higgins Park, and I sat by the sandbox while you went to go and try to talk to all the cool kids on the field. And I feel all this jealousy, though I know it’s just your job. But you act like such a perfect snob and snub me publicly for real. Chorus.
8.
In Portland, the nightmares got so bad I was giving up sleeping. You were all I had in the hours I was keeping. Baggy-eyed in an all night restaurant. Sucking back coffee straight from the coffee pot. Swapping stories of our childhood and always stumbling. Trying to get the words together but they weren’t coming. Laughing to ourselves and wearing what we’re finding. Knee-deep in the world and going dumpster diving. I spent alot of time making constellations from the freckles on your face. That one’s Patty Duke. That one’s a manta ray. The time went by and all we did was try to forget about the stupid lives we left behind. And the only time I know was when I was with you. Allergic to the kittens you were dragging home, but everytime they purred it reminded me of why I’d left and why it was so worth it. All curled up and lying on a bed of concrete with the only person in this world more fucked than me. Chorus.
9.
You called me on the wrong line, and that’s always a bad sign. You try to talk through your tears. I don’t even hear you. I’m just hanging up and grabbing my keys. Check the call display to see where you’ll be. I jump on my moped remembering what you’d said. The promises you never kept; the meetings that you slept through. And here we are again: I help you to your feet, and I suppress the urge to walk away every time you speak, because you’re so lame when you’re drunk, and you’re so drunk everyday, and the more that you drink, the more you whither away. And you used to be cool, you used to be so alive. Now, you’re relentlessly dull and you take up all of my time. Well, after I toss you head-first through your door, I officially retire from caring anymore. I’m calling up a taxicab because I can’t fit you on the back of my tiny little motorbike. Not a single thing with you goes right, and as much as I like playing hostage to your faults, next time, please, find someone else to call. Chorus.
10.
Android at the superhero party. They were passing around hors d'oeuvres but they forgot me. I'm the guest of honour, but all I want to do is go. A very mean man went and ate the sun, so Brain Girl built a sun-making gun. I flew it out to Mercury, I shot it and it hurtled me home. It's going to be a long, long summer. The sun goes on dispensing its sunshine. The man is driven to commiting more of his crimes. Tackle Girl tackles him. I make sure he won't go free. Telegraph Lass grabs all the glory. Mary Magnets has a newspaper story. I just sit here gleaming, daydreaming of electric sleep. Chorus.
11.
I lift my head up and touch the bumper, with my hands all shredded up from going under the machine. Kate came to drive me to the hospital. I told her not to bother at all. Two weeks later, we're in New Orleans with a percolater and a bag of coffee beans. I tell her about the way I feel. She says it's based on nothing real. She said, "Take a look at what you say, it is so obviously bullshit. The truth comes from inside and what you put it on is makeshift. Your body could be strong, but you don't care enough to make it. There's something wrong inside, and everything's related. And if you want to try to believe, I'm the only proof you need. I've explored the places you are and I know you can return. Please take my word. Please? Take my word." I felt all weakened. This is more than she should take. I'm always freaking and making these stupid mistakes. Kate responds all optimistically. She contends that there is something good in me. I tried to argue and show what she's sustained. She reviewed it and said, "Let's stop comparing our pain. Let's just try and like ourselves tonight and take care of each other at times like this." chorus. Because you know I hate this now, and you know I can't see a way out. I want to change this, but I can't erase it. I want to change this now, I want to change it, and if you want to try to believe, I'm the only proof you need.
12.
Midnight crashes all around, but they drown out the sound. They compliment my dress; they're all impressed. And everyone knows everyone, exactly like you're counting on. The conversation swallows me and you slip by between the words they say. Guest room. I traced your trail upstairs, but I wasn't quite prepared to face this now. You planned this out. Your parents dragged me back from school to ease the pain they're dealing you. They push you out, you pull me in. It's just the way it's always been today. She pointed at a car in the parking lot. I couldn't tell if she was joking. Eyes wide open as your laughter fades. You're staring through me all the way. All the way across the ocean, just to talk you out of this. Now all the weight is on my shoulders, and I can't walk away. I'm locked in if we go all the way. Morning. I'm not used to the time. I'm lagged out of my mind. You tiptoe through the hall. I've got a call, and it's the school; the play's been cast. They've got me playing Rosencrantz. And as disappointment swallows me, you say you know just what I need today. She pointed at a car in the parking lot. I couldn't tell if she was joking. She looked at me as if to say she thought we could go all the way. Chorus.
13.
I've been learning some Japanese so I'll know when you’re teasing me, but my tapes lack enlightenment in the playful insult department. Not that I’m worried about what I would find; that’s the last thing on my mind. I just want to take the time to read your subtleties the way that you can read all of me. I used to hate each day, crushed by all the weight of lagging history, and I was never squeezing free. Then from out of nowhere, you came in and blew my world apart. The past two years have made no sense, lost in the shadow of violence. While everyone else could just forget, I was haunted every minute. And there were months when I couldn't eat. Hid my face beneath the sheets. Shoved my face in the machinery, when all the scenery was there for me. Crack the windows wide to match the pain inside. The lights and heat go down inside me. All around. Then from out of nowhere, you came in and blew my world apart. You lunged into my frozen heart and taught me words I never knew. They came from you. So put your hands across my face and challenge me to try and trace the sound of your words across my tongue. And you can call me names just for fun…

credits

released March 6, 1997

Doug Mclean - Vocals/Guitar.
Mike Koop - Guitar/Vocals.
Bob Somers - Bass/Vocals.
Chris Hiebert - Drums.

Recorded and mixed by John Sutton.
Mastered by Paul Furgale.
Originally released by Squirtgun Records in 1997.

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The Bonaduces Winnipeg, Manitoba

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