Me Too Night: Raining In Baltimore

Dear Everyone,

This one was written for Me Too Night, which was hosted by the great American poet and former cab driver Jonathan Montgomery. Jonny has a new book out called Pizzas and Mermaid, which is a must read for everyone. Head on over to Amazon and pick up a copy. Do it now. Don’t wait. I’ll be posting a review of the whole thing soon. It’s really: fucking great. Until then,

iloveyou,

GITCH

Me Too Night: Raining In Baltimore

Raining in Baltimore is a song about losing everything you’ve ever wanted and then standing around, alone in the aftermath, wondering to yourself, slowly, exactly how the fuck you’re supposed to move on.

Because when you’ve just lost what you love, a life post all this losing, the moving through and getting-on-with-the-show bits of your life that your friends implore as absolutely necessary, well all that continued existing in a world that breeds heartbreak and rains absence just seems damn near impossible. I mean, have you seen the state of these big tops lately?! They’re ruined! It’s all useless! The bearded lady is lying over there dead, crushed beneath the weight of battered canvas. And where are all these goddamn elephants supposed to go?!

Baltimore is the name that Adam Duritz gives to this thing that has broken his heart and ripped out the indoor plumbing of his soul and left him shell shocked and still bleeding a little bit from the mouth maybe, twirling his finger through wet dreadlocks at the bottom of the feeling shitty about oneself’s swimming pool, with no fucking clue as to the fact of how to move on.

And though we don’t all have dreadlocks, we do all have our Baltimores. That one thing we’ve loved that is no longer with us but never really goes away either, it just sort of sits out there, raining, 50 miles east, nicknaming our face ‘salt’ and then rubbing it on a day by day basis into our own wounds.

It’s just sitting out there, 50 miles east, refusing to be forgotten like a dick.

This is the reality in which our song’s narrator wakes up to, every fucked up day. And when you’re feeling this bad about shit, it’s the simplest things sometimes that can get you through, that help you break past the desperate loneliness and prevent you from just giving it all up and taking a nap on a busy railroad track. The train conversations, etc. When you feel like your skin has been replaced by a burlap based material of constant loss, it’s the simple things that get you by.

Hence the constant requests….for raincoats and phone calls…sunburns and plane rides. Me, I hate talking on the phone, so in my version of this song I need a comic book or an old black and white horror movie.

I need a Philip K Dick book

I need some Bela Lugosi

I need a sweat shirt

I need some Star Trek

I need a Twilight Zone Marathon

I need a motel room

I need a xanex

I need a gas mask

I need a worm hole

I need some clean socks

I need a blow job.

I need a notebook.

I need a blow job

I need a space pen

I really need a blow job

I really really need a blow job

I really really need a blow job