There, There: Issa's Sunday Service, #89

John Flaxman's art of the Siren episode of The Odyssey.

Last week, while checking out some fav blogs, I stumbled across this Radiohead song, "There, There," in a live version, posted on Donna  Fleischer's wonderful word pond.  So, I grabbed it up and ran, since it is replete with a reference to sirens in The Odyssey.

Here's the elliptic lyrics:

In pitch dark I go walking in your landscape.
Broken branches trip me as I speak.
Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there.
Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there.

There's always a siren
Singing you to shipwreck
(Don't try, don't reach out
Don't try, don't reach out)
Steer away from these rocks
We'd be a walking disaster
(Don't reach out, don't reach out
Don't reach out, don't reach out)
Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there.
(There's someone on your shoulder)
(There's someone on your shoulder)
Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there.
(There's someone on your shoulder)
(There's someone on your shoulder)
There there!

Why so greedy and lonely?
And lonely
And lonely

Heaven sent you to me
To me
To me

We are accidents
Waiting Waiting to happen.

We are accidents
Waiting Waiting to happen

All of this, of course, recalls James Joyce's modern telling of the tale in his monumental achievement, Ulysses. The Sirens episode is a bit thorny, but worth the effort.

Jingle jaunty jingle.

In perhaps their best and certainly my favorite film, Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou, the Coen Brothers nailed The Odyssey.  Check out this amazing clip that captures the Sirens at their finest:




Donna Fleischer's original post, with the following live Radiohead performance of "There, There," may be found here.

And here:

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This week's poems come from Lilliput Review, #110.  They followed one after the other in the issue.  Curious.




Amorist

   . . . drop this word into your vein
   and let your blood dissolve it

   . . . let the poison churn
   ferment
   and saturate your eyes
   in wine

   Go blind

   Go blind

            Jerry Gordon

Careless

     I see your
     divinity slipping
     between your fingers

     There --
     thumb,
     index, ring.

   Brian Murray

even our fleeting snow
becomes
Buddha! 

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

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And, just as a little test to see if anyone ever makes it this far, I couldn't resist one more: