Текст песни Fallen Skier (Mecca Normal) с переводом

What about this guy

You can’t really see his face

But he likes opera

He can’t be all bad

Here, click on this guy’s profile

I pick the date

I pick the place for the date

A radical book store to which he, a 47 year old English student has never been

Two blocks from where he lives on the downtown east side

It has a nice little fiction and poetry section

He crosses the street diagonally and runs his fingers through his hair

Question and answer we tell our life stories over dinner

And walking in the tourist sector out of here

Where cruise ships dock and Americans meander

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

His favorite place to work was a well known Greek resturant

Where the staff were encouraged to drink, half price upon arriving for work

The coke-dealer shows up and the day begins

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Own four Cadillac El Derados in Rome

Self-described waiter/ski bum until he was 39

Then his parents died

He didn’t handle it very well

He didn’t handle death very well

He took a room in the creepiest of the crappy skid-row hotels and lost his

belongings when he couldn’t pay the rent

Claims he moved down there because that’s where the services are

You’ve got your rehab and your detox and your counciling you’ve got your 12

step and your food bank

Warning, warning, red flag

No one moves to skid row to get clean

No one moves to skid row to get clean

Will I be playing part of the woman trying to help his life get on track

Helping him get his life back on track

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Standing on the pier

Half-watching the sun go down

Cloud of mist is giving great definition to the trees

Which should have been flat and invisible

I’m thinking of saying something of how the mist is making things clear

But I decide to keep that thought to myself

I feel I’m with a boy

A very young boy

He’s only been away from home 27 years

Only 27 summers

27 winters of partying and skiing

I guess that’s why he hasn’t gotten anything together yet

I don’t think he realizes it

But his life has gotten away from him

After quitting school in grade 11, he bought a van so he could go on ski trips

to Vermont

He didn’t leave home until he was 20

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

I ask about his plans

He might like to go backpacking in Europe

Skiing in Switzerland

But not while he’s still a student

I cannot make him a 47 year old man

He remains a boy

Tall, skinny, boyish features

With that faded, worried look

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Slips into an anxious silence

I feel the urge to ask what’s wrong

Oh God, let me not start with that

I think he may have run out of things to say

I told my Reader’s Digest version of my life over dinner

Which makes me realize that I could probably pitch my novel in 2 minutes as a

screen play

He gave no indication of being attracted to me

No compliments, no lingering looks across the table intending to reveal interest

We didn’t talk about relationships or dating expectations

It was kind of like being stuck with a visiting friend of a friend getting

rooked into going out for dinner

Our conversation was only kind of okay

Only kind of okay

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Near the end

Out on the pier

After the sun has gone down

He asks me about this music of mine

Is it ever all out punk?

He seems concerned that it might be hardcore punk

I stand, middle aged woman in a fantastically subtle silk jacket all the way

from Japan, Hush Puppies, curly hair flowing in the wind

And this guy’s fretting over the possibility that I’m actually Henry Rollins

I try to explain punk myself

But fail on making an impact here

He never did ask the name of my band

He never tried to touch me

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

I ask what sort of music he listens to

He says his taste is eclectic

My least favorite answer to a question meant to increase understanding

Eclectic in this case means that music isn’t really that important to him

Isn’t really that important to him

He says his taste varies, but he’s never been into the live music scene

Never been, never been into the live music scene

After eclectic comes techno

And I’m still trying to make him 47

But he’s stuck in my mind a boy

A boy that might backpack around Europe once he finishes school

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Carefully, I ask if he does anything I might call creative

Perhaps he finds creative expression making an espresso, a cappaucino

I don’t know

Thinks a minute and says he doesn’t play music or paint, if that’s what I mean

But he does watch TV

Free cable in his creepy, freaky hotel room

And he likes to go, he likes to go to the movies, to the movies

I can only half think about being so gray and dispassionate to call watching TV

creative

I guess to him, art is a hobby

And his hobby is being entertained

The sun is down and I blurt out

«I've got to get back to the other side of town»

At my bus stop I ask him if I can give him a hug

I mean, a hug goodbye

We hug, and he cheers up and decides to wait with me for the bus

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

By the time I get home

His email to ask me out again

I should’ve skipped the hug

I go to bed, rather than him reply

Perhaps he’s on antidepressants and he’s psychotic

My internet dating experience

I want to get back

I want to get back tomorrow

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy