KITHS KINS AND THE SHINS

There is an airplane waiting to whisk me away to distant waters. No, the airplane is not a metaphor for my warty frog waiting to receive a double dose of my minty mouth (for I do brush with minty toothpaste that promises to kill my plaque as well. Revolutionary toothpaste! Such a breath of fresh air.) No, the distant waters are not the gingerbread house made of gingerbread in ginger flavour that is cosy and comfortable and homely and fairy taley (and edible!) all at the same time. 'Tisnt.

I am expected to board the flying contraption and cross borders to alien countries with contentious space-folk stories and elaborate millitary plans. Oh but the Cold War is past and we are in the grip of a whole new horror. Obesity! Wait. And....anorexia! Well, I am expected to land in the midst of a dichotomy anyway. Excellent.

And one is gripped with an all-too-familiar feeling of the throat constricting, struggling to force our affected greetings while blinking rapidly. Because the new compatriots will not always understand. And will probably not take too kindly to your love affair with Nutella, tequila and the dream back in wonderla. And when you ask them if they know your kith & kin because the chances of knowing them from a billion strong is not entirely negligible, they will rationalize. And sometimes laugh. And then this love affair will dwindle away as a one-night-can't-stand.

Which is why I love The Shins.

Gold teeth and a curse for this town were all in my mouth.
Only, i don't know how they got out, dear.
Turn me back into the pet that i was when we met.
I was happier then with no mind-set.

And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

Wish me luck. Please.