When I got back home I found a message on the door
Sweet Regina’s gone to China crosslegged on the floor
Of a burning jet that’s smoothly flying:
Burning airlines give you so much more.
How does she intend to live when she’s in far Cathay?
I somehow can’t imagine her just planting rice all day.
Maybe she will do a bit of spying
With microcameras hidden in her hair.
I guess Regina’s on the plane, a Newsweek on her knees
While miles below her the curlews call from strangely stunted trees.
The painted sage sits just as though he’s flying;
Regina’s jet disturbs his wispy beard.
When you reach Kyoto send a postcard if you can,
And please convey my fond regards to Chih-Hao’s girl Yu-Lan.
I heard a rumour they were getting married
But someone left the papers in Japan.
Left them in Japan, left them in Japan…
I have felt a strong connection to the work of Brian Eno in the past week. I actually think I may have chosen the wrong hero in high school. I listened to Talking Heads and My Life in the Bush of Ghosts and extracted David Byrne as the more important partner. I think Brian Eno was the more important figure. His pop work, his aesthetic, his work with Roxy Music, his production of a panoply of bands: incredible body of work. Seriously, read the man’s wikipedia page.
Or perhaps it takes 25 years of perspective to really hear Brian Eno.