Sunday
Nov262006
self-fulfilling prophecies
Sunday, November 26, 2006 at 4:03AM | Mr Lady
This post could go 15 different ways, so let me see if I can't hone in one one of them.
Hmmm.
Ok, let's try this one...
I remember one day, when I was about 8 and my mother thought me old enough, she sat me down and put on the Simon & Garfunkel albums. We sat there, listening through the scratches and skips that you can only get on a good, old, well-loved vinyl and listened to music I had heard a bazillion times before but never really listened to. We got through The Boxer, which still stops me dead in my tracks no matter where it comes on. I will spend a whole lotta time in the tampon section of Safeway if it means I get to hear The Boxer all the way through. We listened to Old Friends, still a favorite, she played me the first Christmas song I had ever heard, Silent Night/The Seven O'Clock news. It made me cry a little. I understood why people loved Christmas so much after I heard that song. Then she played me The Dangling Conversation. All she said was, "This is marriage. This is what you have to look forward to."
I never forgot it. Over the years I wore out several needles and made some serious grooves in that record. And I somehow managed to find that marriage and dive head-first into it. I also ended up being a weird sort of music junkie.
Thanks, Pat. Thanks for jinxing me. But thanks also for playing me Simon & Garfunkel, and Joni Mitchell, and Janis Ian, and all those great records. The shitty marriage; I'll get over it and I'll fair better in my next match. But seriously, how does one live without Simon & Garfunkel? It should be illegal.
And this is where I splinter off a bit. When I left Canada, I left behind a rather enormous CD collection, carefully compiled over 14 years. I did bring both Paul and Art with me, and Joni came, too. So did Carly Simon and Radiohead and Jill Scott and Trout Fishing in America. But I am sadly lacking in, well, too much music.
Since many of you have been so kind as to offer your services to me, and not one of you has offered to make out with me which is kinda all I want lately, maybe instead you all wouldn't mind doing the next best thing and making me a mixtape? Just take your favorite 15-22 songs a throw them on a CD for me. I'll give you an address to mail it to.
My ears would be very, very grateful.
Hmmm.
Ok, let's try this one...
I remember one day, when I was about 8 and my mother thought me old enough, she sat me down and put on the Simon & Garfunkel albums. We sat there, listening through the scratches and skips that you can only get on a good, old, well-loved vinyl and listened to music I had heard a bazillion times before but never really listened to. We got through The Boxer, which still stops me dead in my tracks no matter where it comes on. I will spend a whole lotta time in the tampon section of Safeway if it means I get to hear The Boxer all the way through. We listened to Old Friends, still a favorite, she played me the first Christmas song I had ever heard, Silent Night/The Seven O'Clock news. It made me cry a little. I understood why people loved Christmas so much after I heard that song. Then she played me The Dangling Conversation. All she said was, "This is marriage. This is what you have to look forward to."
I never forgot it. Over the years I wore out several needles and made some serious grooves in that record. And I somehow managed to find that marriage and dive head-first into it. I also ended up being a weird sort of music junkie.
Thanks, Pat. Thanks for jinxing me. But thanks also for playing me Simon & Garfunkel, and Joni Mitchell, and Janis Ian, and all those great records. The shitty marriage; I'll get over it and I'll fair better in my next match. But seriously, how does one live without Simon & Garfunkel? It should be illegal.
And this is where I splinter off a bit. When I left Canada, I left behind a rather enormous CD collection, carefully compiled over 14 years. I did bring both Paul and Art with me, and Joni came, too. So did Carly Simon and Radiohead and Jill Scott and Trout Fishing in America. But I am sadly lacking in, well, too much music.
Since many of you have been so kind as to offer your services to me, and not one of you has offered to make out with me which is kinda all I want lately, maybe instead you all wouldn't mind doing the next best thing and making me a mixtape? Just take your favorite 15-22 songs a throw them on a CD for me. I'll give you an address to mail it to.
My ears would be very, very grateful.
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