Even if you weren't a Tori Amos fan in the mid-to-late '90s, the odds are good that you knew a few of us who were.
Our Kool-Aid dyed hair and witch-length skirts helped visually amplify our hormonal angst to the surrounding world. As did our notebooks -- scribbled with words about nicotine patch addiction, little earthquakes, spinning in circles and other cryptic riddles that only Our Great Lady Guardian, Tori Amos, fully understood.
She's in town this weekend at O'Shaughnessy Auditorium in support of her 14th album, Unrepentant Geraldines. But if you've explored the ladies rooms of your favorite bars, you might think she's been here all along.
We went ahead and collected our favorite pieces of bathroom poetry so you could decide: Is it a Tori Amos lyric, or a girl shitting with a pen? Click through to find out.
"Withered willow tree -
Dopamine deficiency, a pond in winter.
Milk sugars, conscience, honey:
thick cream lightens strong coffee."
That was the intro from an impassioned ode titled "Immeasurables," found in the ladies' can.[page]
"Flaxen hair blowing in the breeze
It is time for the geese to head south
I have come with my mustard seed
I cannot accept that she will be taken from me"
Tori Amos Lyric
An excerpt from "The Beekeeper", off Here In My Head.[page]
"Messenger, your tongue
Traces a gospel along my lips
I can taste your conviction
Devotion burns in your eyes"
Girl Shitting With a Pen
"I've got a fever above my waist
you got a squeeze box on your knee
I know the truth is in between
the 1st and the 40th drink"
Also from the Here in my Head album, that's the song "Concertina".
You probably don't remember a single word other than "Concertina," but for Tori Amos fans the chorus melody is now playing on loop in your skull's PA system.
"I will wade out
Till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
And leap into the ripe air"
Shockingly similar to Amos, due to the water-based mythology -- this is the handiwork of a girl with a Sharpie and a few minutes to kill.
Add up your scores and let's see how you did.
Why doesn't Tiger come home?
So much winter in his wine
Follow the telephone to paper-cut landscapes
Who says can't scissors eat glass?
Icing on a partridge
A slow leak
Mother warned this sauce would curdle
Dragon said she woudn't dance
Fear of candy monsters
May the gods prank Cindy last
Your paws smell of gingerbread
I hope you find your winning category summations satisfying.
I think Tori would.
Tori Amos. $37/$57, 7 p.m., Sunday, August 3 at O'Shaughnessy Auditorium. Tickets.
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