I. Women
They say every city has its own personality, it’s own character. I’ll go a step further. I’ll say that every city is a woman.
My hometown–St. Paul, MN–she’s like a Minnesota girl. She’s pretty, but not beautiful. She’s not the most sophisticated woman in the world, but she’s got her wits about her. She goes to church every Sunday and she’ll wear something silk and subtle to bed at night, but she doesn’t kiss and tell. There’s nothing dangerous about St. Paul. When she holds you, you feel safe. And yeah, it gets damn cold in Minnesota, but St. Paul, she looks after you. She shields you from that unforgiving cold.
If you needed her, St. Paul would drive through thirty below snow storms to get to you, no questions asked. She’d bring you whatever you needed and stay with you until you could take care of yourself. Not because you’d do the same for her, but because that’s what the true meaning of life is: we’ve got to look out for each other. At least, that’s what she says. And when you hear her say it, you believe her.
Los Angeles, on the other hand, is an entirely different girl. She drunk calls you. She’s on… something. Ain’t entirely sure what. She’s phenomenal in bed. No, better than that. I mean so good that you’ll never look at another woman the same way again. You’ll carry expectations. Of course, she’s hot. I mean hot-hot-hot. And she knows how to show it. And she likes showing it. She likes being on your arm and the fact that you’re showing her off gets her off. And she’s smart. Got a tongue on her that could cut marble. Yeah, I meant that in just about every way you can think.
And if you ever got in trouble? Fuck you, buddy. Because Los Angeles, she doesn’t fuck men who can’t take care of themselves. You show one sign of weakness–just one–and she’s moved on to someone who doesn’t scare or threaten her. That’s the way she is and fuck you if you don’t like it. She’s got the magic gold-plated pussy and you want it so she’s gonna give it to you… as long as you keep her happy.
II. Roy
Roy is singing to me through the computer. Bruce is next on the playlist. “The screen door slams… and Mary’s dress sways.” But right now, it’s Roy and he’s singin’ for the lonely. And that’s me.
Right now, from across the world, through electricity and magnets, I’d like to say that I feel more alone than I ever have. Here in this cold, lonely town–full of people afraid to make any kind of promise–I can feel you so close, divided only by electricity. Alone, so far away, and yet so very close, I send you this, a little message to let you know that you aren’t the only one in the world who feels alone right now.
Roy Orbison is singing in my computer, as these words are sent to you. And as his beautiful voice reminds me that I am not alone, I hope to do the same.
You are not alone. Roy and I are here with you. And in a moment, we’ll have the whole world in front of us, just you, me and a car out back.
“Oh, come and take my hand,
We’re riding out tonight to case the Promised Land…”
III. Never
You’re never alone as you think you are.