Self Portrait at 28

Or, the birds of Virginia are flying within ya.

Last week, I turned 28. I had been waiting for this birthday for a while (a year, even!). But I’d also been waiting for it longer, excited to read the Silver Jews’ David Berman’s poem, “Self Portrait at 28,” to myself and really know what he was getting at.

Of course, I probably knew and didn’t know just as much when I reread it the week before after I sent it to Fred for his birthday.

For anyone who hasn’t read this poem, you can read it in his 1999 collection Actual Air. You can find it online, too, but unless you’re in a rush I recommend reading the whole thing. Listen to some Silver Jews while you’re at it.

(A little off-topic, but his other book, full of illustrations, is called The Portable February. A little cosmic, or just a coincidence).

For my birthday, I’m giving myself some space for my thoughts on potentially my favorite Beatles song, “Norwegian Wood.”

With a parenthetical second title of “This Bird Has Flown,” the song is a 6:8 (if you know, you know) narrative about a guy hanging out with a girl and sleeping in her bathtub. The song showed up on Rubber Soul, potentially my favorite Beatles album.

In the end, Lennon sings:

And when I awoke I was alone
This bird had flown
So I lit a fire
Isn't it good Norwegian wood?

In Having and Being Had, Eula Biss writes about this song, particularly the ending. She talks about her own uncertainty regarding the ending, wondering if he built a fire in her fireplace or burned her whole house down. She looks for satisfaction by reading Beatles interviews, and finds one where Paul remarks: “It could have meant I lit a fire to keep myself warm, and wasn’t the decor of her house wonderful? But it didn’t, it meant I burned the fucking place down.”

I first heard Paul’s take on the ending a few years ago, and I’m not sure I agree with him. The entire song, to me, is about that early, timeless intimacy, when you are getting to know a person and have no routines with them. The discomfort of being in their house for the first time, but the good feeling of being close to them pushing through. Perhaps, also, those moments and interactions with someone who won’t become some huge part of your life, but tonight you are staying up late and talking with them.

When he starts a fire, I never saw him burning her house down. I never really thought about a fire place. All I really thought about was him sticking around while she’s at work, waiting for her to come back so they can pick back up from last night.

Been listening to a lot of radio to kick off 28, but recommend the albums American Water and The Natural Bridge by the Silver Jews if you’re looking for something great to listen to.

Thanks for helping ring in a new year.

Kate Coleman