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no room for hipsters

the occupation of Ashley and Levon

Rebekah (my mother-in-law) and Frankie sent me a song by Robert Earl Keen Jr.  I will be turning this up loud when we finally load the car in a couple weeks.

It’s just the two of us
All out on our own
That’s the way it ought to be

The only two things that
mean anything to me
Are loving you
And leaving tennessee

We can call up all our
friends on the phone
Tell them that someday we’ll return
First, we have to start
to make a new home
We have one last bridge to burn
Lay your head down and we’ll drive
Through the night
And in the morning light
you’re gonna see

The only things that mean anything to me
Are loving you
And leaving Tennessee

 Robert Earl Keen Jr.

I actually like Tennessee, but leaving will be good.  I saw Antony and the Johnsons recently and Antony told the audience that everyone in Manhattan is originally from Chicken Village.  Apparently, everywhere besides Manhattan is Chicken Village. 

In trendy cities, its hip to claim that no one is from the aforementioned city.  Instead, all the current residents flocked in from Nowheresburg, Wherever to be in the hotspot.  In Nashville they smugly say that no one is from Nashville.  Even, in West Knoxville they say no one is from West Knoxville; if you can believe that. 

I feel the need for a  place that is so big and so great that if you are not there you have a title. That title being, Resident of Chicken Village.   I’m actually moving to Brooklyn because it’s too expensive in Manhattan.  But I will be able to leave Chicken Village and arrive at the one and only Non-Chicken-Village quite easily. 

I will probably miss Knoxville, TN: the next Knoxville, TN.  But right now the only thing that matters is leaving.  That, and loving Ashley, who is my left hand these days.

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