Thursday, 12 April 2012

It's Rose isn't it? Or is it Richard Nixon?

I was blessed with one of those iconic names.

Rose.

Actually, it's Rosalie.

Named after my father's cousin in Scotland. Or a girl he knew in the Army. Depends who's telling the story.

Rose is the girl that songwriters write songs about. As such, I've been a ballerina, the fun Puerto Rican girl of Bruce Springsteen's youth, a handjob given to a roadie in a Jackson Browne imagining.

I've been a posey, a Texan, a Washingtonian.

But this one takes the cake.

Now I'm Richard Nixon. Or I used to be. I'm supposing this is referring to Nixon's Karma.

Or it's something that Bruce Cockburn wrote when he was on mushrooms.

Check it out.

It's truly disturbing.

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