Riding home on the bus, and some kid is sitting there with his pants hanging down low enough that it looks like he's taking a dump. I watch him get off the bus, holding his pants up. (What else do they have keeping them up if they're under his ass?)
This is fashion? This is what someone considers to be a good idea?
This has me rethinking my staid opinions on clothing. Perhaps I need to take my look in an exciting new direction. Underwear over my pants, perhaps? Or I could try a shirt 3 sizes too big. (Or 3 sizes too small. Genius!) Maybe I'll wear my pants backward. (Oh right, that one's been done. Kriss Kross will make you jump jump.)
No need to stop with clothing. How about the one eyebrow look? Not just for the guy that passed out at the party first anymore! (Whoever just made the crack about my mono-brow: fuck you.) How about shaving all facial hair except what's on my neck? Gross, you say? Awesome, I say.
Now, I'm no fan of couture fashion, or being part of the hive mind. I don't buy clothes every year to keep up with trends, and I'm not too concerned about what people think of how I look. But wearing your pants so low you have to hold them up? That's neither stylish nor smart in any way. It really has no redeeming qualities at all.
Except to say, I'm a complete fucking moron, laugh at me!
Congratulations, sir, mission accomplished.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
"There ain't no devil, there's just God when He's drunk." - Heartattack and Vine
I resign myself to the fact that everything I have to say has already been said better by Tom Waits. (Full disclosure, I really mean Tom Waits and his wife, as they've been a songwriting team for over twenty years, but I hear his voice in my head. And his older stuff was all just him.)
Who else could cram so much pathos in three lines?
"It's a battered old suitcase
In a hotel someplace,
And a wound that would never heal."
- Waltzing Matilda
Shit. I couldn't convey that in an hour long drunken ramble.
How about these gems:
"They all pretend they're orphans,
And their memory's like a train.
You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away."
- Time
"You haven't looked at me that way in years,
But I'm still here"
- I'm Still Here
"I will leave behind all of my clothes,
I wore when I was with you.
All I need's my railroad boots,
And my leather jacket,
As I say goodbye to Ruby's arms
Although my heart is breaking.
I will steal away out through your blinds,
For soon you will be waking."
- Ruby's Arms
Throw some amazing and depressing music and melodies in the mix, and holy crap. Grab the booze if you want to make it to the end of the album.
So why is it that depressing music resonates so well?
I think it goes back to the old adage about crying alone. Happiness overflows and is shared like exploding champagne, but sadness can feel like trying to draw water from an empty well when you're dying of thirst. We may lean on others and find comfort in family and friends, but in the end, the hard times we bear alone.
That's where Tom Waits and all the poets of pain come in. You may be alone, but you can connect to someone that has been through similar things to what you're struggling through and is unafraid to share it with you.
I remember sitting in my grandmother's kitchen after she'd gone to bed, listening to The Wall by Pink Floyd over and over. Songs of hope and happiness would have rung false, like some cruel mirage, but to hear someone talk about the things he'd gone through brought human connection when it was needed most. I was not able to say things I need to say to another person, but Roger Waters was saying them to me. Finding that kindred spirit was the hope I needed.
However, there's an important corollary here: there has to be that little tinge of hope (or at least a lesson to be learned from the lyricists woe.) This may not be in every song, but there will be something on the album to latch onto.
This is perfectly demonstrated in The Wall, which ends with "Outside the Wall":
"Outside the wall, all alone, or in twos,
The ones who really love you,
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand,
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all, it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall."
Here Roger Waters shows the tragedy of his fictional character, Pink Floyd, who, despite all he's endured, is still loved. In letting his struggles build the figurative wall, Pink has blocked off the people that could have helped him.
I was that guy, building my wall. And Roger Waters came along and saved me from myself.
So give me sad songs sung by damaged souls, and raise a glass to their courage to share what they have endured. They survived, and so will we.
I don't need a happy song to convince me of that.
Who else could cram so much pathos in three lines?
"It's a battered old suitcase
In a hotel someplace,
And a wound that would never heal."
- Waltzing Matilda
Shit. I couldn't convey that in an hour long drunken ramble.
How about these gems:
"They all pretend they're orphans,
And their memory's like a train.
You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away."
- Time
"You haven't looked at me that way in years,
But I'm still here"
- I'm Still Here
"I will leave behind all of my clothes,
I wore when I was with you.
All I need's my railroad boots,
And my leather jacket,
As I say goodbye to Ruby's arms
Although my heart is breaking.
I will steal away out through your blinds,
For soon you will be waking."
- Ruby's Arms
Throw some amazing and depressing music and melodies in the mix, and holy crap. Grab the booze if you want to make it to the end of the album.
So why is it that depressing music resonates so well?
I think it goes back to the old adage about crying alone. Happiness overflows and is shared like exploding champagne, but sadness can feel like trying to draw water from an empty well when you're dying of thirst. We may lean on others and find comfort in family and friends, but in the end, the hard times we bear alone.
That's where Tom Waits and all the poets of pain come in. You may be alone, but you can connect to someone that has been through similar things to what you're struggling through and is unafraid to share it with you.
I remember sitting in my grandmother's kitchen after she'd gone to bed, listening to The Wall by Pink Floyd over and over. Songs of hope and happiness would have rung false, like some cruel mirage, but to hear someone talk about the things he'd gone through brought human connection when it was needed most. I was not able to say things I need to say to another person, but Roger Waters was saying them to me. Finding that kindred spirit was the hope I needed.
However, there's an important corollary here: there has to be that little tinge of hope (or at least a lesson to be learned from the lyricists woe.) This may not be in every song, but there will be something on the album to latch onto.
This is perfectly demonstrated in The Wall, which ends with "Outside the Wall":
"Outside the wall, all alone, or in twos,
The ones who really love you,
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand,
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all, it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall."
Here Roger Waters shows the tragedy of his fictional character, Pink Floyd, who, despite all he's endured, is still loved. In letting his struggles build the figurative wall, Pink has blocked off the people that could have helped him.
I was that guy, building my wall. And Roger Waters came along and saved me from myself.
So give me sad songs sung by damaged souls, and raise a glass to their courage to share what they have endured. They survived, and so will we.
I don't need a happy song to convince me of that.
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