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lirik lagu the twist – charles curtis trio

i’ve begun to do the same things for the millionth time
i know this for a fact as i have been keeping track
pouring a glass of water first thing in the morning
making the first cup of coffee, heating it up again
brushing my hair, pulling the stray hairs out of the brush
the first cigarette, the second cigarette
straightening the bed clothes
brushing my hair
pouring a glass of water first thing in the morning
straightening the bed clothes
making the second cup of coffee, heating it up again
turning off the alarm first thing in the morning
i had splashed cold water on my face for the one millionth time last week
and the onе millionth time i make my bed will comе up early next year

i express these thoughts to an acquaintance of mine, who is younger than i
who still has these milestones ahead of him
he called me methuselah
he said it sounded boring and tedious
yeah, boring and tedious
he said that he would go crazy counting the number of times he brushed his hair
i looked at him
he seemed to me even younger then than i had thought
we were perched at the counter
and in full view of the tall white chef hats
of the short order chefs bobbing behind the grill
my acquaintance was laughing, shaking his head
he was trying to express incredulity
but i could see i had just made him nervous
the chef hats bobbed in funny patterns
there were three of them
orders were streaming in but the chefs kept joking among themselves
bobbing their dull white hats cheerfully
at an angle i could see the bar where dining parties waited their turn for a table, or just drank
at one end a couple had situated themselves
they were dense with one another
the man was grey*haired and stocky
he slumped on his bar stool on his head
the girl, red*haired and well*formed, and very aware of this, leaned away from him
her chin up, her back very straight
one hand gripping her purse, and the other the bar end
i figured they were breaking up
maybe they had met for one last beer

“you know,” i said to my acquaintance, “the more often you do something, the stranger it becomes after a certain point. things change with time. you wouldn’t believe the surprises you were in for. you don’t have to go searching for variety”
i told him i saved newspaper clippings on boxing
i have a whole stack of them sitting on my piano
some of them have been there for years
they go back to the heyday of roberto durán
i don’t go near them
i don’t know if i could face the shock of reading the old ones now
of recognizing, dimly, a word or two, or a sentence
and therefore of recognizing how different things are now
of recognizing the feelings i had when i cut them out
“durán: champion in four weight classes”

my acquaintance had no patience for such things
he couldn’t get into it
he was shaking his head
getting out his car keys
asking for the bill
getting out his wallet
waving at the waitress
shaking his head
getting out his car keys
getting out his wallet
shaking his head
thinking about ways to liven up his evening
he was practically making a ruckus
the waitress smiled at me
she seemed to be hip to the situation
i said, before i headed out, “just wait. some morning, you’ll look in the mirror for the one millionth time, and you’ll just barely recognize yourself”
he said, “you’re crazy”
by now the table behind me was on its third party
a party of three
the hostess up front kept an assiduous register of reservations and waiting bodies
“mr. l * party of three”
the counter seats were exempt from her registrations
i could keep sitting on in no hurry, watching the flow of changing customers
watching the chef hats bobbing
hearing the names called out
“party of three, party of two, party of five”
the couple at the bar had changed their posture a little
the girl was slumping now and looking down
the man was leaning tight against the bar and talking, his face near the top of her head
he’s making progress
i knew * they’re making up
i understood the situation completely
he was married but in love with the girl
she loved him but she was sick of the secrecy and competition
he was saying he would do better in the future
asking for one more chance, giving her false hopes
they would go through this every few months or so
but how many at the time was this, that they had been through this?

i thought of my acquaintance
he might even be at his disco by now
it wasn’t far
he would have shed jacket and sweaters, unb*ttoned his shirt a little, displayed the gold chain we had shopped for together
his gelled hairdo would be coming undone a bit
the image of him was becoming
he would be having a great time
and i smiled
i saw him on the dancefloor, bobbing lively or awkwardly
twisting, waving, pushing his hands straight up or straight out
sliding his hands straight down the sides of his chest and hips
looking up and shaking his head
twirling every now and then
the disco songs would follow relentlessly, one upon the other
the booming disco drums would pound the beat, pound after beat
the strobe lights would flash one million times per second
yeah, i still had to do the dishes at home
but i wasn’t in a hurry, it wasn’t terribly late yet
so i stayed on a bit and thought the whole thing through again
i thought of the things that happened only a handful of times in a lifetime
durán had won twenty*three title fights
i had personally attended fourteen funerals
i had buried a grandmother, my father’s stepfather, my parents, my therapist, an aunt, sundry older friends
in the 11th round, durán had thrown in the towel
“no más,” he said to sugar ray
and sugar ray obliged him
“the last funeral you will attend is your own,” i told myself
and even after that, things keep going on and on
there’s no stopping them
everything has its number
one*fold, two*fold, four*fold, manifold
the part, the fractured
enumerated and denominated
the few, the many, many, many, many, many, many, many
the one millionth time
the seven*hundredth time
the twenty*fourth time
the first time
the eleventh time
the umpteenth time
eventually, that time rolls around which is not the last but is the one where whatever you are doing no longer matters
you are just part of things happening over and over
and at that moment, everything is different again

i took a last look at the party
they were laughing, ordering another beer
the guy was actually touching his shoulders
gingerly, awkwardly
yeah, it all seemed right to me
he had had a rightness which seemed to defy cogent explanation
and that right there seemed a sign of definitive rightness
i was satisfied
it all seemed pretty straightforward
i only had six blocks to walk home
each block took forty*five seconds
the waitress, whom i knew, smiled at me
and i asked for one more glass of water

- charles curtis trio

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