Tag Archives: love

I’ll Fight A Whedon For You (Ode To Maurissa Tancharoen)

The first time I saw you in pony tails,
that Horrible Doctor’s fan,
I knew by your groove when you sang that tune
that I wanted to be your man.

But then your Commentary
made me Asian Aware-y
and I knew what I’d have to do:

I’ll fight a Whedon for you:
Zak, Jed, or Joss,
Yeah, you know that it’s true.
There’s more a chance
I’ll see DOLLHOUSE renewed
But it’s true:
I’ll fight a Whedon for you.

Echoes remain from that song that you sang
as Kilo the cutest Doll.
I’m too poor for STARZ or for SPARTACUS,
but you know that I’ll give you my all.

No, I’ll never yield; I’ll back AGENTS OF S.H.I.E.L.D.
until Agent Coulson dies (I mean, again, like, for real this time)
You’re Pretty In Pink, I don’t care what they think
Then I saw you with another guy.

Even though you have lupus
I thought we could this
but then werewolves devoured my heart.

But I’ll fight a Whedon for you:
Zak, Jed, or Joss,
Yeah, you know that it’s true.
There’s more a chance
I’ll see DOLLHOUSE renewed
But it’s true:
I’ll fight a Whedon for you.

Did you know that our birthdays
are one day apart (except
plus or minus ten years)?
And sure, Jed is hot —
what’s he got that I’m not?
(I mean, other than a career)

So Mo, won’t you go
with me, baby, you know
we’d be cool (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)

But I’ll fight a Whedon for you:
Zak, Jed, or Joss,
Yeah, you know that it’s true.
But I’ll still be here
after S.H.I.E.L.D. Season 2
’cause it’s true:
I’ll fight a Whedon for you.

Cookie Sheet

There is something in the charity of
love, the unexpected, that is ruined
in the asking. We are not masked heroes
waiting on a cry for help, but pious
nuns, attending only to the humble,
refusing all impertinent requests,
giving not giving when it’s demanded.
It expands to all gestures—embraces;
passionate relations; end of workday
massages or baths drawn, candles lit and
room scented; breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and
desserts—anything that makes a life hurt
less. So long as it remains unexpressed,
unasked for, we give all our hearts and more.

1UP

For Adam & Debbie

An extra heart can save a life,
or offer one more try to beat
the dungeon-level boss, and
empower you with fireballs,

laser blasts, or some kind of
flying raccoon costume. But
sometimes it’s a superpowered
fusion reaction, forging two

disparate lives into one united
future that can overcome the
obstacles and enemies of every
wild world they will discover,

a love-fueled level-up that
far outlasts any star-powered
invulnerability and guarantees
a game that never ends.

Plus maybe an extra flying
raccoon costume, just in case.

The Crash

They were fighting when it happened. Nothing, of course, just a little couples’ spat. They were driving home from a wedding in Danvers for one of His old bandmates. Some girl was saying shit about someone in the bridal party, some typical caddy bullshit but just the kind of thing that She could not abide by. So later that night, She made sure to spill a red cocktail on the caddy girl’s dress when they were both out on the dance floor, said it was an accident. Those were the kind of moments that had made Him fall in love with Her so swiftly, those unabashed displays of take-no-bullshit attitude, the moments She reminded you that She wasn’t just some passive pretty plaything.

When it happened, He just stayed back and watched, soaking in the moment and willing himself to sober up for the long ride home; She, of course, kept drinking, because hey, open bar. By the time the reception ended, He felt more than fine to drive, although as He’d later learn, physical sobriety and legal sobriety were two very different things. But She, in Her heightened state, was fairly upset with Him for not having Her back.

Like I said, it was one of those stupid fights. Every couple has them.

They were traveling down Route 1 and by the time they reached Chelsea, the fight had to come to an impasse, with both side asserting stubborn silence. The accident happened shortly thereafter, at the Junction of 16. It was late enough that there weren’t many other cars on the road, save one that they saw coming towards them in the opposite direction that had left its brights on. He flashed the highbeams twice (the universal sign to let the other guy know his brights on), but nothing changed.

The traffic light held green as they approached the intersection, so He kept driving, when the white hearse appeared, heading east on 16, and ran straight through the stop light and careened into the driver’s side of His car, sending it spinning out with enough force to leap the barrier. The trunk of His car collided with the oncoming car in the opposite line, knocked it directly into a telephone pole.

When His car stopped spinning, it was situated back on Route 1, mostly facing North. He peered out the driver’s side window, but it seemed the hearse had already escaped.

He then looked to his right. She was killed on impact.

“That”

We begin, as all things do, with building: ambient noise and the revving of a motorcycle engine, before ascending piano notes come up, repeatedly rising up the scale without ever truly resolving. Soon the feedback begins, and the heavy, distorted guitars follow in suit, guided by the steady crash of cymbals and booming snare drum snap. The lead guitar comes in wailing, spilling feedback and harmonics all across the soundscape.

And finally, nearly two minutes later, everything stops. A moment of calm, accompanied by a gentle piano, tapping out a loose and airy I-IV-V progression, as our hero makes the first of his anthemic refrains: “I would do anything for love.” And so he proceeds to describe in detail those very things that he would, to the harmonious twinkle of ivory. “But I won’t do that,” he finally concludes as the electric guitars come ripping back into the song, ringing out their reverb in steady whole notes while the snare drum sets the pace with on every 2nd and 4th beat. The louder instruments temporarily pull back as the song drops down to the relative minor, suggesting a darkness within as our hero articulates the struggles he has faced, the constant challenges he has been forced to overcome in order to do those things — any thing — for love that he claims that he would do.

But then it returns, ever so briefly, to a soft, piano-led plea, returning to a major key, before returning violently once again to the Ionian mode, battling cacophonous feedback as our hero casts aside his hardships and howls out a solemn vow against a painful diminished chord that as long as he lives, he will always make good on that aforementioned:

“I would do anything for love,” he reminds us, returning to the soft lilt of the piano, this time with a slightly more rhythmic weight behind each note and a gentle chorus of angels lifting up his voice. And each phrase is punctuated by a bombastic burst of guitars as the chorus turns around and resolves once more to his oath: “I would do anything for love — but I won’t do that” and we don’t even care what “that” is because we’re him, we believe him, we believe in him. He repeats his mantra more and more as the soft tap of the hi-hat cymbal continues picking up velocity, until the chorus of raucous returns to carry him through that declarative refrain, accompanied by the glowing harmonies of seraphim.

The phrase repeats, and repeats again, until you’ve almost had enough — when suddenly the song returns to the unresolved Ionian buildup that we heard at the beginning, only driven this time by a steady rock n roll pulse. And again, the song pulls back to a quiet accompaniment as our hero returns to the darkened thoughts of his own internal struggles. But his voice carries on, the snare drum gets louder, and louder still, each hit positing an exclamation mark upon his words. Once again we progressive through the familiar patterns of the song, heaping greater and greater upon the reverb of every word, until finally, that diminished chord returns, its dissonant vibrations sending sickening waves through our skin as the drums pull back to slow down the reveal that yes, he would do anything for love! And the chorus cries along, their rich harmonies ripping through the heavy wall of raucous sounds, bursting through the air in halftime as if thrust into a climactic slow-motion moment, a frozen frame against all odds, against the violent volume of sonic chaos shunted into some melodic order, and for just one moment, the world stops spinning and we see true love in its finest form.

As the dust clears away, our hero finds his mate, and she sings along with him, taking in his melody as if her own breathe and returns it, finding affirmation in the sound. Until finally, as the song and the world fall apart around them, he makes it abundantly clear, through all her hesitations, uncertainties and exceptions: No, I will not cheat on you for love.

And that’s the one fucking thing he won’t. He won’t fucking cheat on her love. Which is such a fucking cop-out, because of course you’re not going to cheat on someone. That’s like the basic fucking rule of being in love. You went through 12 minutes of some of the most glorious fucking operatic rock n roll music ever written — just to tell her that you wouldn’t cheat on her to make her love you? How would that even work?

I’ll take the words right out of your fucking mouth: fuck you, Meat Loaf.

New Girlfriend

I had a new girlfriend,
with lips full and bright,
but then I lost my job
and she had no insight

on where to find work,
and so even though
she said she’d support me,
I told her to go.

So I got a new girlfriend
with much bigger eyes
but she wanted a choice
for her dinner one night.

I said that was cute, but
I knew what she wanted.
She stormed off and left me
right back where I started.

So I got a new girlfriend,
and things were so great
until we had a baby, which
kind of ruined our dates.

It cost too much cash
to provide for all three,
and I felt I deserved to
keep all my own money

So I got a new girlfriend
who cost me no more
until the end of the night –
just another cheap whore.

And then she made me ill,
so I found me another
who could take care of me
like a boy and his mother.

Then things got all weird
when she felt like I owed her
for helping me heal,
so I found me another

new girlfriend, just like
that first one long ago,
but she still wasn’t perfect
so she still had to go.

Not The Information He Wanted From This Particular Desk

“The statistics show, and again we have a lot of data to back this up, that every woman you have started a relationship with has grown to regret it. However, the ones you avoided or they avoided you well they seem to be just fine. They still think fondly of you, and they wonder why you are so lonely.”

“And you have data for that?”

“Yes. Yes, indeed. A lot of data.”

“Wow. So where do I go to get my library card?”

“Oh, the library is closing. For good. Sorry.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.”