Last night one of the songs the algorithm lobbed my way was Madonna's "La Isla Bonita" performed in the style of System of a Down.
The repeated oxymoronic line "The sun would set so high" synched with a meme I had just seen on Barnhardt's.
As I have said in "Last night I immagined San Pietro" (May 2025), this Madonna song is closely associated in my mind with a particular scene in Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine, in which the dying Colonel Freeleigh, in defiance of his nurse's orders, phones Mexico City, has his friend there hold the receiver out an open window, and breathes his last while listening to the intoxicating sounds of the city one last time.
With such force did this scene come back to me that I stopped what I was doing and reread that chapter of Dandelion Wine. I then entered a reverie, in which the "yellow noon" of Mexico City merged with the dandelion wine of the title, the Colonel greedily drinking it down with his dying breath. I began reciting to myself "Enivrez-vous," one of Baudelaire's more memorable prose poems from Le Spleen de Paris, variously translated as "Be Drunk," "Get Drunk," or simply "Drink!":
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it -- it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking . . . ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
My mind then went to another composition called "Drink!", a song from the They Might Be Giants album Mink Car.
This turned out to have even more relevance to the scene from Dandelion Wine. The first line mentions a piƱata, establishing a link to Mexico. Then this is the chorus:
Let's drink, drink, this town is so great
Drink, drink, 'cause it's never too late
To drink, drink, to no big surprise
But what words rhyme with "buried alive"?
What words rhyme with "buried alive"?
"Drink, drink, this town is so great" -- just as I had imagined the Colonel "drinking" Mexico City. "It's never too late" -- not until they pry the telephone receiver from your cold dead fingers, which is how that chapter of Dandelion Wine ends.
But what words rhyme with "buried alive"? Trivially, a homophone is a rhyme. I recently had occasion to explain to a student that, despite the spelling, bury is pronounced like the second element of strawberry. To rhyme with buried, though, berry would need the -ed suffix, more usually attached to verbs than to nouns. Just yesterday, though, in "Apple of ashes, brine to the burning throat," I quoted a reference to a "white tree-silver shooted, red berried." The buried homophone works here, since a person might be "shooted" (shot) and then buried. "Read buried" could also allude to various buried records, from the Gold Plates to the secret plans of the Gadianton band.
The White Tree is, according to Nephi, the Tree of Life. If its life-giving fruit is a berry, as Daymon has it, one vivified by it could be said to have been "berried alive" -- a phrase syntactically analogous to "shot dead."
The original meaning of "buried alive" is also highly relevant. The "Apple of ashes" post mentioned the imprisonment of Pharazon -- who drank the dandelion wine of La Isla Bonita -- in the Caves of the Forgotten. Those who are buried alive typically do not remain so for long, transitioning in a matter of minutes to buried dead, but Pharazon would be an exception.






