The first line of today’s sonnet is an allusion to the title of the second album by Talking Heads, 1978’s More Songs About Buildings and Food. I think it’s one of the finest album titles in rock history, but you’ll notice that I’ve spun the thing a little bit. I was thinking about how architecture is an art form, building and construction is art, and buildings often are and should be ABOUT something. It seems like a strange thing, but totally appropriate, to say what a building is about. We’ve made a building on our property, and, because the tail end of the project went so haywire, it’s more important than ever to give our building a purpose, a meaning, a reason for being, a story, a theme. So the first thing I think about is how we’re going to make music happen in there, and then, in a close second, where will we keep, prepare, and eat the foodstuff. Hence: more buildings about songs and food, to combat the ugliness of a less than perfect project finish, and, while we’re at it, to push back against the ugliest and coldest and wettest spring in memory.
I started to draft this baby pretty early in the month, so you will see here something a little more Shakespearean, a little more traditionally sonnet-like. Although, some of these rhymes are questionable. I make no apologies for that. Enjoy.
Let’s have more buildings about songs and food.
This room needs a turntable, this one, too,
that one does, and that; every room is good,
as listening creates the world anew.
Music, some wine, salmon, pressure-cooked rice,
asparagus, some dessert, that’s it.
Or, with the morning coffee, tunes to spice
up this dismal spring; the weather is shit.
What I wouldn’t give for some warm sun, nice.
April’s cruel and all the months before
were mean, snow and hail in March, no lie.
Winter, Spring, March, April, whoever you are,
I’ve got my songs and food inside the house;
Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.