This post brought to you by the letter...
Huh. I can't decide which letter I'd like to favor today. I was thinking Q, but that seems so trite. And I don't want Q to feel used by me. Maybe T. Or M. Or I. OR ALL AT ONCE! Todays post brought to you by TMI.
It's been a day dominated by music. I love days like that. Each song I listen to manipulates my mood, so I make sure to listen to the type of music I want to be in the mood of. Today has alternated between filthy, maudlin, and feisty. I'm listening to The Beatles, Act Naturally at the moment. It's making me feel nostalgic. I used to listen to this album with my mom when we cleaned the house on Main Dunstable Rd. I can smell the lemon scented furniture polish right now, taste the dust on the back of my tongue, and feel the diluted yellow sunshine on my back from when I'd hide behind the couch under the window and read to escape cleaning. And now it's on to Yesterday. I can hear my mom singing this song. She was a terrible singer, with a scratchy voice and NO sense of timing. But she loved to sing. I remember watching her face when she sang this song and wondering what she was remembering, what she was missing.
Earlier I was listening to NIN, Closer. This song isn't about sex to me, though it's a remarkably sexy song. It's about power play, and pure, selfish masturbatory fucking. Which is fun. But it doesn't do it for me. Ahhh yeah... here we go. Tool, Prison Sex. Now THIS song is hot. That should probably make me nervous, and spur me to analyze certain facets of my personality, but eh... I'm just going to enjoy listening to it. It reminds me of this guy I met once, Piper. Piper was a pretentious little hipster wannabe, and we only went out once. But it was a fun once. There's this moment when you realize that you have a different face for the person in front of you, that you're wearing a mask in their mind. And it's a very freeing moment. You don't have to analyze your reactions, because your reactions don't matter. You're an avatar for a character that doesn't exist in your world, and your lines are being read by someone else. I don't know who I was for Piper, but I know I kind of envied that person. Cause god damn did they inspire some angry, passionate, vengeful fucking.
Hmm... Sing Sing Sing is on now. Oh my. This song makes my skin flush, my mind boil, and sends electricity pulsing throughout my body. I remember first learning to swing dance with Josh, Shawn, and assorted others to this song. I remember that first flush of triumph, realizing I was actually good at something that was popular. I don't remember much else during that time period fondly, but this song paints everything with a rosy glow, imbuing it with much more fond nostalgia than it really has a right to. Heh. And now it's Beasty Boys, Girls. I am 18, driving home from a convention, in a car with boys, windows down and freedom in the air, singing this song at the top of my lungs, feeling just a hint of rebelliousness.
Portishead, All Mine. This song is pure Jeni memory. Late Jeni memory, sitting in her room in that apartment off Amherst St, reinventing a friendship that had been tested by a reality I was extremely unfamiliar with. Feeling bad for being fascinated by that hint of darkness, and realizing that I was trying to integrate a memory of perfectly clean rooms and awesome My Little Pony collections with this new human being I didn't really know yet who protected me from sexual predators in High School by pretending to be my lesbian lover and who was friends with people who did things like have sex and drink. Man, I was a sheltered little thing.
Fuck this maudlin shit...
Katy Perry. That's right. Katy God Damn Perry, I Kissed a Girl. I'm bopping my head in furtive shame, singing along in a monotone, pretending I'm at Embers, dancing ironically with all the other goths who are dancing ironically. OF COURSE IT'S IRONIC!! WE DON'T REALLY LIKE THIS SONG!!
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aint no big deal... it's innnnnoooooceeeennnttt....
Ooooo... here we go. Annie Lennox, Wonderful. This is my absolute favorite Annie Lennox album, Bare. It's fucking amazing. It should be boring, honestly. There's a bit of the 80s anthem about some of the songs. But they're so. freaking. CLEAN. I listen to them, and I can feel my bones being scourged with truth. "Do you want me, do you not? Does it feel cold, baby, does it feel hot?"... I love this woman. In a totally hetero sort of way, which is odd. Cause she's hot as fuck, and you just KNOW she'd be fun in bed. Or in a soccer field. Or in the back of a truck under a star strewn sky on top of a mountain.... Ahem. Anyways. My brain loves her. One of my favorite drag queens does a mean Annie. She looks just like her, get's her giant lips all glittery, and does the best "Walking on Broken Glass" ever.
Ida Maria, I like you so much better when you're naked. This song reminds me of too much in my current life. I've sat in Baileys on dates recently, humming this song under my breath and wondering what the person in front of me looks like naked, realizing that their conversation is just completely turning me off, and conspiring to buy them another drink to get them to shut the hell up.
I'm going to end this too long blog post on an appropriate note. Joan Jett, Bad Reputation. This song is all about singing karaoke in a bar with a cute little blond girl, drunk off my ass, and with the knowledge that I kind of DID care about my bad reputation, or at least I had most of my life, running through my head the whole time, inspiring me to scream "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN BOUT MY REPUTATION" just a little louder than was strictly needed. "Oh no. Not me."
It's been a day dominated by music. I love days like that. Each song I listen to manipulates my mood, so I make sure to listen to the type of music I want to be in the mood of. Today has alternated between filthy, maudlin, and feisty. I'm listening to The Beatles, Act Naturally at the moment. It's making me feel nostalgic. I used to listen to this album with my mom when we cleaned the house on Main Dunstable Rd. I can smell the lemon scented furniture polish right now, taste the dust on the back of my tongue, and feel the diluted yellow sunshine on my back from when I'd hide behind the couch under the window and read to escape cleaning. And now it's on to Yesterday. I can hear my mom singing this song. She was a terrible singer, with a scratchy voice and NO sense of timing. But she loved to sing. I remember watching her face when she sang this song and wondering what she was remembering, what she was missing.
Earlier I was listening to NIN, Closer. This song isn't about sex to me, though it's a remarkably sexy song. It's about power play, and pure, selfish masturbatory fucking. Which is fun. But it doesn't do it for me. Ahhh yeah... here we go. Tool, Prison Sex. Now THIS song is hot. That should probably make me nervous, and spur me to analyze certain facets of my personality, but eh... I'm just going to enjoy listening to it. It reminds me of this guy I met once, Piper. Piper was a pretentious little hipster wannabe, and we only went out once. But it was a fun once. There's this moment when you realize that you have a different face for the person in front of you, that you're wearing a mask in their mind. And it's a very freeing moment. You don't have to analyze your reactions, because your reactions don't matter. You're an avatar for a character that doesn't exist in your world, and your lines are being read by someone else. I don't know who I was for Piper, but I know I kind of envied that person. Cause god damn did they inspire some angry, passionate, vengeful fucking.
Hmm... Sing Sing Sing is on now. Oh my. This song makes my skin flush, my mind boil, and sends electricity pulsing throughout my body. I remember first learning to swing dance with Josh, Shawn, and assorted others to this song. I remember that first flush of triumph, realizing I was actually good at something that was popular. I don't remember much else during that time period fondly, but this song paints everything with a rosy glow, imbuing it with much more fond nostalgia than it really has a right to. Heh. And now it's Beasty Boys, Girls. I am 18, driving home from a convention, in a car with boys, windows down and freedom in the air, singing this song at the top of my lungs, feeling just a hint of rebelliousness.
Portishead, All Mine. This song is pure Jeni memory. Late Jeni memory, sitting in her room in that apartment off Amherst St, reinventing a friendship that had been tested by a reality I was extremely unfamiliar with. Feeling bad for being fascinated by that hint of darkness, and realizing that I was trying to integrate a memory of perfectly clean rooms and awesome My Little Pony collections with this new human being I didn't really know yet who protected me from sexual predators in High School by pretending to be my lesbian lover and who was friends with people who did things like have sex and drink. Man, I was a sheltered little thing.
Fuck this maudlin shit...
Katy Perry. That's right. Katy God Damn Perry, I Kissed a Girl. I'm bopping my head in furtive shame, singing along in a monotone, pretending I'm at Embers, dancing ironically with all the other goths who are dancing ironically. OF COURSE IT'S IRONIC!! WE DON'T REALLY LIKE THIS SONG!!
< <
> >
aint no big deal... it's innnnnoooooceeeennnttt....
Ooooo... here we go. Annie Lennox, Wonderful. This is my absolute favorite Annie Lennox album, Bare. It's fucking amazing. It should be boring, honestly. There's a bit of the 80s anthem about some of the songs. But they're so. freaking. CLEAN. I listen to them, and I can feel my bones being scourged with truth. "Do you want me, do you not? Does it feel cold, baby, does it feel hot?"... I love this woman. In a totally hetero sort of way, which is odd. Cause she's hot as fuck, and you just KNOW she'd be fun in bed. Or in a soccer field. Or in the back of a truck under a star strewn sky on top of a mountain.... Ahem. Anyways. My brain loves her. One of my favorite drag queens does a mean Annie. She looks just like her, get's her giant lips all glittery, and does the best "Walking on Broken Glass" ever.
Ida Maria, I like you so much better when you're naked. This song reminds me of too much in my current life. I've sat in Baileys on dates recently, humming this song under my breath and wondering what the person in front of me looks like naked, realizing that their conversation is just completely turning me off, and conspiring to buy them another drink to get them to shut the hell up.
I'm going to end this too long blog post on an appropriate note. Joan Jett, Bad Reputation. This song is all about singing karaoke in a bar with a cute little blond girl, drunk off my ass, and with the knowledge that I kind of DID care about my bad reputation, or at least I had most of my life, running through my head the whole time, inspiring me to scream "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN BOUT MY REPUTATION" just a little louder than was strictly needed. "Oh no. Not me."
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