Sinister: when I had dreams / when I was young / used to hear voices / used to sing along
m. paisley
snyggtwee at xxx.com
Tue Aug 13 22:59:33 BST 2002
Recommended Music for Sinister Ears:
1. Chicago "Cell Block Tango" (Single, My Ass)
>that what we have is insignificant. What we have (Me
>and..say, Mrs. X) is fun. Movies, walks in the park,
My advice is to stay away from women named Mrs. X, unless you happen to be
Mr. X.
>another thing, I currently have a girlfriend (who I do
>also like: I should make a choice shouldn't I?)
And, anyway, what are you doing hanging with X's? You must live somewhere
with gun control.
So I heard that Chicago is being made into a film, which is great because I
never got the chance to see the musical. It was just last week that a friend
of mine (who HAS seen the musical, and is already worrying about the
artistic stylings of the movie in the making) played a bit of it while we
were rearranging the position of his new bed.
Nothing smutty should be read into that last phrase. The smut comes later.
It's going to be my content, too. Can't you wait? Oh, alright. I'll try get
to it as quickly.
Well, last night I went to the Beth Orton concert.
2. Beth Orton "Stolen Car" and "Devil Song"
My friend Martin was asking me what I was going to do that night. And I said
I was going to see Beth Orton and listen to her play. And he didn't know who
she was.
And I tried to explain to him that her music was exquisite comfort, very
good for when I am feeling sad and introspective. Beautiful vocals and
strings, and I was trying to say that they had something to do with
emptiness, and I mentioned that I'd read of her parents both dying before
she was 20.
And he said, "Oh, get over it" (about her parents), which is a terrific way
to make me pissed off and shut down a conversation.
What I wanted to say something about the grieving and the dreaminess of her
songs. Martin may be a friend of mine, but that doesn't mean he isn't a
jackass with a living family whom he visits frequently. Isn't life bad
enough that the least we can offer each other is compassion? Are anyone's
sorrows beyond our own individual troubles so incomprehensible? I mean,
really.
The night before that was even better, though, because I went to a David
concert. Now, I am a B&S fan. Oh yes, I definitely am.
3. David Garza "Loveless" and "We Told You So"
[download the mp3's at http://www.thiseuphoria.net/music/]
But David is special to me, because his music was my original music. His
songs are my original comfort music, or joyful music, or bitter sounds that
resonated with me. You're psychotic fans, I hope we can understand each
other here. He's touring a bit at the moment, but he's scheduled to do two
more shows in Austin, and if I feel really ambitious I may try to see one in
Dallas, too.
4. Alejandro Escovedo "I Was Drunk" and "Put Your Down"
Howard Shady (I think that was him) mentioned that old ex-alcoholic cowpunk.
You know he's got a musical running here in Austin?
BOO! It's time for the content at last! Because the night before I saw
David, I went to sleep early. But the night before that, I went to Zilker
Park to see "Into the Woods." BUT THE NIGHT BEFORE THAT...
I went to a strip club for the very first time.
5. Belle & Sebastian "My Wandering Days Are Over"
You were doing it for businessmen on the piano, Belle.
How it come about is a nearly unbearably long tale. But this visit requires
some explanation. My friend Blake has been needing a job for the better part
of the summer, yes, another summer wasting.
A couple of the blocks that have prevented this include him not getting
accepted due to failure of the psychology testing portion of the application
(to work at places like video rentals or sunglasses stores). We couldn't
work out just why specifically, but his mother used to beat him some when
she got drunk (sometimes with the bottle) and I'm going to boldly
hypothesize that she may have got him on the head too many times.
None of the above prevented him from getting into college or being a really
great person, but another problem has been that the places where he was
accepted to work could only hire females. Because they already had too many
males. And they needed their numbers to even out some.
And all along, his dad's been offering to get him a job at this certain
strip club, as a barback, which is something a little less than a bartender.
A lousy job, but a job that would pay, you know? Blake hardly wanted to be
around drunk people anymore, but he asked me and I said he could just work
it and keep searching for something else. And he said alright, but he wanted
me to come with him.
Getting in was okay, and the contact guy talked to Blake and while he was
filling out the papers I got to sit down in the main room. I looked around
some for a while. I thought to myself about the girls I know from the
university who always start talking about turning to stripping and dancing
when it comes time to pay tuition and rent. I looked at the girls who were
working in there, and they were working hard.
I don't guess they get much outside training, but internally those women
must be pretty damn tough to work a job like that. Those college girls
always talk about dancing and all as being "easy money," and then they look
at you. Like they're challenging you to say they're not pretty enough. I
just say "Okay, so do it." But they never do.
It's not a question of pretty, although the bodies in there were the kind
you think of. Stereotypes...flat here, round and full there, and a nice face
with a lot of hair all curled around. I just don't think it's right to say
that any job is easy until you actually work it. It's disrespectful to the
people who've actually been there.
Anyway, I got tired of looking and started reading my book after a while.
But then the hiring manager wanted to talk to Blake in the back office, and
Blake gave me a look, so I had to get up and follow them back into a cramped
office with three chairs crammed in and naked girlie posters coating the
walls. When he'd finished talking and we got up to leave, he noticed my book
and asked to see it.
I was kind of reluctant, because I didn't know what he was going to do with
it. But I handed it to him, and told him it was "The Perks of Being a
Wallflower," which is a rather Sinister book that Blake had lent to me.
His big red and white face stared at the cover and flipped through a few
pages, not seeming to recognize what it was. Then he smiled big and said, "I
know this is a good book. Know why?"
(obligatory shrug and waiting smile)
"Lookit this name. Ends in s-k-y."
Stephen Chobosky. Indeed.
"Means it was written by a Polack."
And then he laughed, a huge loud laugh.
I never in my life before heard anyone say the word "Polack" before. Of
course, I was nigh twenty before I could grasp that people actually did use
the word "tits" as an acceptably serious word, either. I thought it was just
kids who used it. Adults are so often disappointing.
I smiled tightly and took my book back from the man.
Out in the parking lot, Blake and I had a conversation like this:
"What the hell was that?"
"Did you like looking at those 'entertainers'?"
"Is he Polish with a weird sense of humor or what?"
"I'm never going back there."
As it turned out, the job his dad had supposedly secured hadn't really been
available. And both the managers Blake had talked to were drunk and creepy
about it, so he isn't going to try to work there anymore.
But to Sinister, I shall always return. Because...
6. Sam Cooke "You Send Me"
Especially Liz, who also thrills me. Yup, darling, you thrill me, honest you
do. And Sinister, I want to marry you and take you home.
This is all I got, and this is all I am. Goddamn.
I'm still Paisley, but I'm contemplating Plaid.
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