2002-04-23
| 5:55 p.m.
when walking into the diner, corduroy licorice warned his brother that time and tide wait for no man. you see, time and tide were both hardcore feminist waitresses and would only serve the fairer sex. flo was the one server in the joint who would wait on the menfolk who came in to grub. *** i've come clean about my OCD. well, that same condition causes me to be obsessive about all kinds of things, including songs. when i get a favorite song, i'm like a little kid who's become fond of a game...and when it ends, cries out: "again! again!" in times like this, the replay button is my well-worn friend. my current #1 song request is by a guy named stew. he has a new album out called "the naked dutch painter...and other songs." you can take a listen here. the nude netherlander in question is my new aural obsession. the song is spare and sweet and full of winks. here are the lyrics: "the naked dutch painter in the kitchen does not want to f*ck you she's got seventeen boyfriends and an 8 o'clock class to get to she's smoking hash all night with some coffee amaretto she's asking stupid questions 'bout my groovy black ghetto and the naked dutch painter in the kitchen does not want to f*ck you la, la, la, la, la... the naked dutch painter in your bed does not want to sleep with you she just feels like being naked you don't think that you can take it with her next to you she says gandhi used to sleep between two naked women but you're not the mahatma--that's a whole other religion the naked dutch painter in your bed does not want to sleep with you the naked dutch painter in the morning does not want to need you she missed her 8 o'clock class 'cause she couldn't get her ass up off of you so you walk along the rhine and jump back in the sack if this is how they do it, you're never going back and the naked dutch painter in the morning does not want to need you talking 'bout the naked dutch painter, the naked dutch painter...la, la, la... the naked dutch painter in the gallery does not want to love you she's throwing fluorescent paint accompanied by a mingus tape that she stole from you it's performance art porno under trippy black light she left with her professor he can stretch her canvas tight and the naked dutch painter in the gallery does not want to love you the naked dutch painter in his arms does not want to see you you are drunk and you are sore you busted down professor's door and yet he feels for you so a wicked joint is rolled and it mellows out your head but you're not feeling too bold when he invites you into bed while the naked dutch painter in his arms does not want to see you talking 'bout the naked dutch painter, the naked dutch painter...la, la, la... so now you're on your own in a freezing pay phone around daybreak you're feeling so shitty that you're calling culver city just to bellyache but there's nobody home except your answering machine so you write a stupid poem about the freaky shit you've seen like the naked dutch painter in the morning sky who hovers above you the naked dutch painter at your door says she finally loves you but she said "i'll see you later" when she saw another naked painter sitting in the kitchen with you well, she seemed a little shattered and she got a little pissed but she saw that you were flattered by the fact that you were missed while the naked dutch painter at your door says...(chuckle) talking 'bout the naked dutch painter, the naked dutch painter..."
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