Sinister: small introduction to sex

[jarkko frantila]

Top of the morning to you poppers/rockers/players/playahaters.

All this talk of B&S and their gigs is making me dizzy. Or then again, it 
might be that the five hours I slept last night wasn't enough. Who knows? 
But hey, something has happened... It's a miracle that I thought would never 
be possible. People talk about B&S gigs, about how good Isobel looked and 
how Stuart wanked himself off while playing that guitarsolo on "Mayfly"... 
and I feel nothing. Nothing.

Because the sad (?) fact is that I don't care that much about B&S anymore. 
Why, I hear you ask? Hmmm... This is the point where it all goes 
complicated. But let me try to explain something to you. You might call it 
the facts of life according to ME, you might call it the gospel of truth 
according to ME, but here it comes.

Now, my life revolves quite a lot around music. Although I haven't bought 
that many cd's in the past few months, I still tend to think my life as a 
movie, and every movie these days has a soundtrack. Me, I've never liked 
those "Music inspired by this stupid blockbuster"- collections that only 
_stupid_ people buy. No, every moment in life can be categorized through 
songs. And here's the part some of you might not like: Who can say they live 
their life like those characters on B&S- songs?

It's all fine and dandy if you do actually ride your bicycle up and down the 
hill. There's nothing wrong with that. You can also hold your teddybear real 
tenderly on your chest and cry your life away. You have that right. But 
fooking hell, that's not me. Maybe it was a few years ago, but things happen 
and things especially change. Someone fucks you up the arse, tells you to 
sod off. You do. You feel bad for a while, then things start to happen. You 
sleep around. You sleep around some more. And it feels fucking great, to 
realize that you've still GOT it. Then you sleep around a bit more. Then you 
find this someone who you make an agreement with: "I'll be your vibrator, 
you can be my Dolly the Sheep."

You go on for a while like that. And then you realize something.
"This isn't great after all. i have this emotional vacuum inside of me. I 
still think of that one who left me behind and I still need her/him around 
me more than anything else. Am I doing all this because I try to get my 
thoughts away from him/her with the magical aid of alcohol and sex?"

And the answer is: Yes.

Now tell me: Where's the B&S in that? No, it's got Shellac (first part: 
anger from being left behind), it's got Marilyn Manson (krhm, won't go into 
details. Just don't do it, kids) and Hefner (erm, everything) written all 
over it.

Ok, now you all think that this is all self-pity. It isn't. It's just a 
long, long explanation why I don't listen to B&S anymore. It can offer me 
nothing. It's like watching a film starring Meg Ryan where the ending is 
always happy and they get each other in the end. Life just isn't like that.

Oh, I bought Jonathan and David yesterday. I think it's crap. Loneliness is 
great, though.

Maybe I should end this with something a bit more different. I went to the 
library yesterday and got this strange, strange book: Rocks Elite- The Elite 
in Rock: Views on the Finnish rockscene. It's from 1989, and it's downright 
funny. You'd think 12 years isn't such a long time. It really is.

-Jake/Jasu

ps: The best part is that almost none of you know me, so I can say whatever 
the hell I want.
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