Names Drop So Hard They Rock

Precipitated by a misheard lyric, as you might guess.

Once I wanted to be the greatest, to feel so sad it rocked. Chan Marshall did not quite sing that. I want to feel so sad it rocks. Oh, yes. Rocks! Rocks me down, crazy slow. Anne Carson wrote that. But yes, slowly rock me. I want the sadness to be locutionary, even though I say nothing. J.L. Austin’s book should have been a question, How To Do Things With Words? I want the walls to rock. The ceiling to shatter. To get to the bottom of it. Does this change. Gertrude Stein wrote another question without a mark. A stage, myself as actor and audience. Anything yet? A cathartic performance. Still nothing? You don’t know? Well, that’s something isn’t it?