Hello again, my dear studnuts! How happy I am to see
your bright, smiling faces, and I can feel in my aching bones how eager you all
are for greater in-the-deeps understanding of one of the most disgust poems
ever written by our wonderful Roma Ryan – the poem that we will today
thoroughly disrupt: I Want Tomorrow. And, as a bonus, after disrupting the
poem, we are going to excavate the VIDEO! Now won't THAT be fun? And I see that
Mr. Woof has thoughtfully parked his brand new starship outside, though not
before ramming Mother Superioriosa’s equally brand new moped –though we must
not follow that biker chain of thought, but wheel away, away, away unto our
text. So please open your books to page 42.
Now,
let me begin with no preambling about:
You know, the opening phrase, “Dawn breaks,” reminds
me so much of a former studnut here: Miss Dawn Rose Bright. This Dawn was
amazingly klutzy: when she rose up she would break dishes, vases, her own femur
and other organic bones, even her mother's much valued Timex by Enya ™, the
watch that keeps Only Time! Yes, she was a walking disrupter and one of my
prize students as a result, but I must not digress so early in our lesion.
Dawn breaks:
aha! Roma is telling us the time of day at which this song takes wing. And Roma
is always ready to give us the time of day! It is the break of Dawn; the sun is
just peeping through the sky, like it's afraid to rise up - it probably fears
that there are lovers lying in the long grass. Indeed, OperaKait, lying in
grass is far better than smoking it, as Sister Hygenia often points out
– excellent point, young lady! Hope has a place for you yet.
So, our song du jour begins at the break of Dawn,
and:
There is blue in the sky
Now, does anyone know WHY the sky is blue? No, Miss
Understanding, it does not have a hangover. And no, Master Corporal, it is not
experiencing shortness of breath due to smog either. Miss Rhine, what do you
say? No idea? Well, your assignment, my dear, is to
research the scientific reason why the sky is blue and hand in an essay in 30
seconds. Oh my dear, you are now looking a bit blue yourself right now.
So, the sky is blue, and what happens? Well, the
PERSONA of the poem, who we shall call Ivory for no apparent reason, is
sitting and watching Dawn break in the blue sky, when – out of the blue –
Your face before me
Though I don’t know why
Our Ivory is seeing things! Hallucinations of faces,
at Dawn! One wonders what she was doing all night, and whether it was legal. Be
that as may it be, she sees a FACE: your face in fact, that is, classh,
the face of an unknown second persona who is hiding in the poem, somewhere.
Ivory sees this face, but does not know why! Now, Sister Sigmundia would
tell us that our persona is digging deep into her psyche to expunge a hidden
moment in time, a special part of the maze of moments that we all tread. In
that moment, THIS face meant something to our persona. We just don't know why!
And isn't that often the case, Miss Cued? We mere mortals never know the WHY of
so many things. But there is worse to come:
Ivory is thinking, but her thoughts are,
curiously, disappearing! Where are they going? Where DO thoughts go
after you have thunk them, Master Card? Oh, I see: you avoid that phenomenon as
much as possible.
But take note, Miss Keyed:
her thoughts don’t just “disappear” - they vanish like tears from the Moon.
What a lovely image Roma give us here - tears from the Moon! Well, we all know
that the Moon has a face, ergo, then, the Moon can cry, and it does! My oh my,
how its cries. It is shedding tears all over its face as it watches the video
that accompanies this song, but I may be digressing again, or perhaps I’m just
getting ahead of myself. Yes, I think so, but that thought just left. To return
to Ivory: her thoughts, in summation, vanish like the tears of the Moon, for
Roma has given us a Blue Moon, another great title for a song, but not by Roma,
alas. True enough, but WHY does our effervescent poet introduce the Moon’s
tears at this point in the narrative? Is she herself mooning, er, over
something or someone, of course; or has she looked up at the Moon at midnight
and NOT seen disappearing Loxian script? Does she tear the face of the Moon, so
that, one by one, each tear falls like scrap paper dragged down by a lunar
mouse?
But, before we venture
onwards, I must mention a conversation I had with Sister Sigmundia about the
title of this poem: I WANT TOMORROW. She pointed out, in her usual forceful
way, that the title is AGGRESSIVE: it does not politely request tomorrow, but rather
DEMANDS it; in her view, the persona is still in the 2-year old Freudian stage
of life! Now, think upon this at home, after school please. Yes, Miss Guided,
you may do this in the lotus position, on a rug with candles around you; just
be careful not to burn your toes.
Yes, OperaKait? Why must
I mention this? Well, I will explicate myself: you see, my dear, the Moon is
also behaving like a 2-year old who cries when she cannot get what she doesn’t
want, do U2? Yes, I thought so. And think how much the Moon DEMANDS: the very
light of the SUN! And her tears become the TIDES, that wash the shore and clean
our clothes before disappearing into the ocean that moves at her command. Why,
that little Moon is a terrible toddler, not unlike yourself, OperaKait. Think
about that.
Now, back to wherever it
was we were.
Waiting here, as I sit
by the stone
Ah yes! Our persona (aka
Ivory) is WAITING, but for what? The face she saw in the previous
stanza? Her disappearing thoughts to come back? Is she waiting for Godot? For
the DART to Killiney? For her next royalty cheque? For Nicky to finish the new
studio? For the DVD to be released in North America? Am I digressing? Oh dear.
Well, whatever or whoever
she is waiting for, she is waiting as she sits by a stone! Is it Mick?
Keith? Ron? Charlie? Is she that stoned? Or, is it a rune stone, full of
cryptic Celtic comments (also known as the CCCs)? And notice that she waits BY
the stone, not ON it -- much more comfortable, don't you think so, Miss Placed?
Now we come to (after
waking up of course):
They came before me /
those men from the Sun
Oh dear! Roma has here
presented us with a referentia upabovia! In the previous stanza she gave us the
tears of the MOON, and now we hear of men from the SUN! Not ladies, please
note, for ladies know that the Sun is very hot and not conducive to existence;
hence they prefer living on Venus.
Now, who are these
very HOT men? Old Druids who would gladly rune everything? [Yes, Miss Rhine,
that WAS an attempt at a joke, sorry.] BUT, perchance and perhaps Roma is here
speaking to us in a metaphorical manner: these men are not really from the Sun,
but come from the EAST, whence the sun rises each day, except in Ireland of
course. Yes, wise men from the East! How utterly Biblical, and thus a perfect
segue into the next line:
Signs from the heavens
say I am the one
Our bewildered Ivory has
been chosen! She has been given a SIGN! No, Master Mind, not a STOP sign. A
sign from the heavens! Perhaps this is a comet racing across the sky, or a
flock of birds alighting on a bronze statue of Nicky, or an Eclipse from
another CD? The possibilities are indeed endless. Nevertheless, classh, a sign has
been given by heaven itself that SHE is the ONE, but the ONE what, that is the
question!
So, my fledglings, what does
Roma mean by telling us that her poetic persona (aka Ivory) is THE ONE? Miss
Matched? That Ivory is the one and only officious soap of the Olympics? Nice
try but no gold medal. Master Piece? That Ivory is far superior to Ebony? Oh
my, that is certainly a no-no! What do you think, little OperaKait?
That we ought to listen to
the words of Roma herself in this regard – why, of course; what a smart pita
you are! For Roma has indeed spoken unto us, as follows:
"This song was written
for The Celts. Although a track had already specifically been written for
Boadicea, the director nevertheless wanted a song to reflect not quite a
"re-incarnation,” but a fascination or the idea of "being
spellbound" by Boadicea."
So Ivory is being held in thrall
by Boadicea! SHE is the one chosen by Boadicea herself to inherit all her
jeans. Maybe even her Birkenstocks. The NEW and IMPROVED Queen of the I See
Me’s, a very self-centered tribe if you ask me.
Well, with that out of the
way, we may descend further into the poem, as the next line reads (though at a
remedial level):
Now you're here, I can see your light
Well, it would seem, would
it not, that our patiently waiting Ivory, indeed having the patience of someone
awaiting the next Enya CD, has now been spotted by some more of those "men
from the Sun." They were there before her, and they now make a comeback!
And, being men from the Sun, they bring their own light with them – which, one
hopes, will not add to their carbon footprint! We all know how much Roma
worries about global swarming.
In any event, these
reappearing men from the Sun are there to guide Ivory upon her Boadicean
experience. They are in fact the Haralds of the I See Me Queen!
No longer puzzled, Ivory
has seen their light: but what to do next?
This light that I must
follow
Indeed, classh, there is a
human tendency to follow the light, mainly because we get so lost in the dark!
Why, one time I went camping and had to visit the washroom in the middle of the
night - did I ever get lost! Fortunately, there was a young woman with a camera
there, and she did tell me where to go! I guess she was waiting for
someone else, but there I go, digressing again. So sorry.
So, Miss Interpreted, Ivory
will, nay, MUST follow that light! There is no choice: Men from the Sun can be
awfully persuasive when they have to be. After all, they control the Solar Wind
and the Solar Flares and the Solar Zits. But what next:
You, you may take my
lice away, so far away
Ah yes, heat is also very
effective against lice and other pests! And back in the days of Boadicea, lice
were not very nice. No wonder, Ivory wants to send them so far away.
Yes, OperaKait, who is
waving her hand and jumping up and down upon her desk? Oh, Roma wrote “life”
and not “lice.” Well, those budgie cuts here at Roma Ryan’s High have reduced
us to hiring scribes with very bad handwriting – I simply must bring this up at
our next faculty retreat at Gweedore.
So, lettuce begin again,
with corrected handwriting:
You, you may take my
life away, so far away
Oh dear! Our poem seems to
turn suddenly and shockingly to the dark side: is Ivory’s father Darth Vader?
Are these Solar Men going to incinerate her? To send her to Mars, where she
must live among men? To make her move to Canada, where she will
assuredly live among icebergs?
So, classh, these Men from
the Sun may indeed take her life away, or at least, life as she presently knows
it. Now, is our persona here merely lamenting her Solar Fate, OR is she INVITING
these sunny fellows to take her life away? Or is she giving them PERMISSION
to do so? OR, as I am sure Miss Rhine would point out, is she reacting in FEAR?
And, if they should succeed in taking her life away, how FAR it will go?
Will she end up right on the toasty Sun, or just in rainy Limerick?
We haste to learn what
perspires next:
Now I know I must leave
your spell
I want tomorrow
Aha! Ivory does NOT want to
be incinerated by any Men from the Sun! Now, please keep this concept of
INCINERATION in mind, for we will be meeting it again when we exhume the video
for this poem.
Hence, she must break their
spell, perhaps employing the incredibly powerful "Spell-Unbound by
Enya" ™, the potion that none other than Harry Potted endorses. And so,
the poem concludes with a very affirmative assertion: I Want Tomorrow!
Yes, our persona is now strong, confident, able to assert her wishes. And she
wants tomorrow, although what is so special about a Tuesday defeats me
completely.
Nevermind – the point is
this: Ivory will survive to live another day, or even more, she will find her
way home, where she will remember only good days when flaming men were not
harassing her. She HAS a future, and it is called Tomorrow. Brava, Ivory, you
make me so proud! What an inspiring tale Roma has concocted for us here.
In fact, Roma was on such a
roll here, perhaps a Kaiser, that she brought to life THE Enya video
that set the world on fire!
I am now going to play it for
you, classh, and then there will be a quiz! No, Miss Ery, tears are not
enough to make me change my mind.
[the video is played]
There, wasn’t that
imaginative? I did notice how all of your jaws dropped, by the way. Which meant
that you actually stayed awake for once during a video! Now take out a piece of
paper and your Enya Neverending Pens ™.
Question 1:
As the video begins, we see
Enya sitting in the rain, surrounded by a bunch of very scruffy looking men.
Why is she wearing a wig with long pigtails?
Question 2:
Who exactly ARE
those scruffy looking men around her:
a. Men from the Sun who are
down on their luck
b. The remaining troops of
Boadicea
c. A bunch of bums Nicky
found downtown who would work for peanuts
Question 3:
In the video Enya and the
scruffy men (see above and beyond) are shown walking down a street. What is the
NAME of that street?
Question 4:
In the next vignette men are seen digging holes.
What are shown in the field around them? And why?
Question 5:
As the video regresses, we
see Enya, still in that charming wig, sitting in a damp and windy place, with
what looks like a lake behind her. She is singing about Men from the Sun, and -
suddenly - a weathered human man turns to face the camera. Is this man:
a. A man from the Sun
b. Farmer John
c. Mick Jagger
Question 6:
Why does Enya incinerate
the car?
a. It was really a Roman
chariot in disguise
b. She was suffering from
sun-stroke
c. Nicky made her do it!
Now please hand in your papers
as you gallop for the door. And I do hope this lesion has taught you some
lessons about the danger of playing with fire.
Ta!!