I love this song. This was the ninth track from U2’s landmark 1991 album, “Achtung Baby.” I remember listening to this song while munching on Butterfingers candy bars, cramming nervously for psych exams in my dorm room during the 1993/94 school year at Mary Washington College.
By psych exams, I mean tests in my psychology classes — not tests administered to me by a psychiatric professional. But, hey, maybe they should have given me the latter. It might have saved everyone a lot of time.
‘Terence, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can’t be much amiss, ’tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly-ache.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head:
We poor lads, ’tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow.
Pretty friendship ’tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.
— excerpt from A. E. Houseman’s “Terence, This is Stupid Stuff,” 1896
We’re gonna ROCK DOWN TO Eclectic Avenue
— and then select our method.
Monarch Books.
From the Soulful Epiphanies Facebook page.
DC Comics.
May 2023.
Oil on canvas,
Construction continues at the site of the old bus station in downtown Roanoke, Virginia. This shot was taken Wednesday.
