perish the thought of ever leaving (i never would)

look, i want to say something really important and well-thought out and something i really, truly believe right now, but in thinking over the things in my head i don't want to say any of them. instead, i will say the thing that is in my heart and dying to get out: madonnarama? it's back, people. it's back with a vengence, and the vengence will be swift. there will be bodies in the street, ladies and gentlemen. i suggest you return to your homes and remain calm until this passes.

i really just want to write to madonna and tell her something like, hi, madonna. i really, really, really think you're incredible. i do. i try to be all jaded and shit over your weird kabbalah....uh.....thing, and that boring dude that doesn't really make any movies anymore that you toddy around with or whatever, and also? what the heck is up with your music, yo? i mean, i just......right. i try to be jaded. but the immense gravity of your triumphs! the entire decade before the turn of the century? is all yours. all of it. even the video with the home alone kid. and the one where you're all rolling around in the sand and stuff, that's okay too. see, it's not just the music, it's the whole....everything. madonna, you.....you're like the angel of pop music. you're not around anymore? but sometimes remembrances of you come up on the 90s rewind(!) hour on WSHIT radio, and for the four minutes without commericals, there you are, like a monument to what pop used to be. fun and with backup singing and a really cool drum machine even and i don't even mind, and everybody knows the words and with this good message too, with just the right amount of what-the-fuck-does-that-mean going on in the lyrics! and i drive fast, and despite the fact i really, quite frankly, don't ever like to dance, you know, like dance dance at the club all crunked up, or whatever, when you come on the radio? madonna, are you still listening? when you come on the radio, i am one hell of a dancer. and not good, but that's not the point even, the point is that i am doing it and i am having real fun with music again, instead of the sometimes constant exercise of pale memory and intelligent lyrics and the rage rage against the death of society or a thinking public or something, anything, you know, music that hits me like a ton of bricks and how much i love that, but still so nice to have madonna around, excuse me madonna, i mean you. still so nice to have you around.

so thank you, madonna. really. thank you for everything. i know you're having a.....i don't know what. but i really hope that soon you get over that and bust out another material girl or something. but sans the pregnant and crazy married girl who hangs out with that ooky dude. please. just you, madonna. you're good all by yourself.

remember when you were in a league of their own? that was totally awesome. and evita? oh yeh, i went to see it. yes, in the theatre, what do you take me for? of course in the theatre, silly. oh you stop. no you! aw. that's nice. thanks.

and remember when you did that one song nobody remembers? and the video is all you shooting some other video or something in japan? rain? remember? you sort of talk in the middle of it or something, and then the sun comes out? yeh, that was a good one. you totally rocked the short black hair thing. nice job with that.

whew, madonna, i could do this for hours. but i seriously gotta go before the shins come around the corner and see me, okay? seriously, modest mouse will call up cat power and they'll both come over here and kick my ass into next tuesday, and then i won't even be able to be in the hospital with visitors because there'll be a hit on my fucking head, all paid up in full by mum and bjork in some weird icelandic ritual. and bjork? is not someone you want to piss off. i know you're like, madonna? and everything? but that woman is batshit crazy. seriously.

and don't even get me started on what will happen when nine inch nails gets wind of this. they'll be resurrecting the ghost of nick drake to haunt me while aimee mann bums a cigarette off of patty griffin before they meet up with gillian shaw to go burn my house down. it is going to be ugly, is all i'm saying.

okay madonna? okay. so i have to go. but listen, i'll be back soon, alright? don't make any albums while i'm gone, though. promise? good.