Ever have the woman you love turned into a cougar jaguar?
Not this kind of jaguar, but I wish.
And on top of that, she couldn’t understand you (and of course, you couldn’t understand her), so then you had to employ this guy:
"A GoGorilla"
A double-noggined telepathic silverback gorilla that could speak English in my brain while sleeping. He would pluck my thoughts and put them in my lady, and vice versa.
(SIDENOTE: Apparently he could speak jaguar… or he was pulling a fast one on me, because the thing is that no matter what my girlfriend said through Mr. DeBergerac, she still acted an awful lot like a jaguar. Especially when we were alone together and she’d try to kill and eat me.)
So in honor of my lady-love, here’s a long distance dedication:
No wait, that’s a panther! I’m sorry honey! I’ll never look at another black cat!
My parents both grew up on Motown. It’s not odd or unlikely, but it explains why they never got into any of the Woodstock (hippie) fare, or harder rock like the Stones, the Who, or the Doors.
So growing up, it was radio-friendly for me… Lionel Richie, Hall & Oates, Air Supply (my dad loved them), and the G.O.A.T. – Billy Joel. I remember the disdain the ‘rents had for Huey Lewis and the News when the (awesome!) group released, “I Want a New Drug.” They never censored me from it, but they let me know they “weren’t crazy about it.”
The reason I say all this: I’m a sap for sappy music. I get lost in your eyes in pop drivel, and I can’t help it. There’s a radio station here that used to play soft rock at night (complete with love song dedications and a nightly wish… you must click here to hear!) and I remember being a teen, driving home from my first job at a toy store, listening to Alan Almond’s Pillow Talk while it was snowing the biggest flakes you’ve ever seen. (I may be the biggest flake ever seen, but I digress…)
This quote from John Cusack’s (well, technically Nick Hornby’s) High Fidelity sums up my worldview it a nutshell, possible emphasis on nuts orhell:
What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?
So why oh why am I bringing this up now? Namely, due to this young lass:
Heck Yeah! Taylor Swift!
She has a new little ditty making the rounds on the airwaves, and as I listened to it I realized something. Well, take a listen if you’re unfamiliar with her work:
What I’m slowly coming to terms with is, ugh… it’s a slow process. This 19 year old country gal that writes her own songs DREAMS THE SAME DREAMS I DO*. And that sucks, I guess.
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