Rock On
You can’t write stuff like this.
School
Asking for directions
Seatbelts
Getting up before noon
Quickening her pace
Joining in
Answering the phone before the third ring
A hug in public
Smiling for the camera
Singing happy birthday to you
Recognizing people and remembering their names
***
I’m going to close my eyes and pretend that Bernard Butler never reunited with Brett Anderson. That The Tears never happened. And that this is Butler’s latest single and not the Ok Go’s.
What is the meaning of my name
Why am i here
Why is it that i give and i give and nothing
I’m thinking of a number now, what is it
How can i tell if she’s not just saying it
What’s that song that goes “baby” then something “love”
How do i tell the voices in my head to pipe down because sometimes, it’s really distracting
Why does little jimmy’s dad have to go and why now
Who exactly is this guy they call “the man”
And why does he want to put me down
***
Something old I dug out recently.
My Girlfriend: What the hell is your problem?
Me: Yeah! What the hell is wrong with you Jay? Can’t you tell nothing’s really “something?” Dammit, you can be such an insensitive jerk sometimes. Look asshole, I’m in no mood to talk right now. So why don’t you head down the pub and bother someone else. Ass.
My Boss: Won’t you suppose to have those scripts in by ten?
Me: Oh my god! You can’t be serious! This is the third time this week Jay. What are you? Like, twelve? Can’t you do anything right? Forget it! I’m really not in the right frame of mind to speak with you right now. Go. Just go.
My Mom: Does it hurt to call your Mom once in a while?
Me: You’re turning out to be a real ingrate Jay! You know that don’t you? How busy are you that you can’t spend five minutes to call your Mom? Five minutes. That’s like what? You spent like three freaking hours surfing the Internet for porn just last night. What’s the matter with you son? Click.
A bear and a rabbit are taking a crap in the woods. Technically, they are not procuring waste. On the contrary, they are really discharging waste. Sometimes, you have to look beyond the literal sense of an expression. Take for example, fat-free milk. Do not be confused. The fat does not come free with the milk. In fact, there is no fat with the milk. The correct expression would be free-of-fat milk. But the former rolls off the tongue better.
The bear then turns to the rabbit and asks, “ Do you have problems with crap stuck to your fur?” In case you are wondering, no, bears do not actually talk. We are taking liberties with anthropomorphism here. That’s an-thro-po-mor-phi-sm. It helps when you say it out aloud. That (anthropomorphism) is, the attributing of human shape or characteristics to a god, animal, or inanimate thing. The human characteristic in question is human speech, attributed to our animal, the bear. Ditto for the rabbit, who turns and replies the bear, “nope.”
The bear smiles, picks the rabbit up and proceeds to wipe his ass with the rabbit. Without opposable thumbs, you may ask, how does a bear pick a rabbit up? Claws. Measuring ten inches in length and an inch wide at the end. He jabs them through the ears, where it does not bleed. Otherwise, it is just a bigger, bloody mess. Oh, come on. It’s just a rabbit. What do you mean? Bears kill rabbits all the time. What do you mean when was the last time I was in the woods? Great, you make animals talk and wipe their ass, and now all of a sudden they are one of us. Oh, that poor little thing. Tell me, and be honest, would you still feel the same if it were a roach and a rat? No, really. How is that different? Oh, come on. Right. Right. Sure. Whatever.
***
When I first started picking up the bass, a bunch of my friends would often meet at someone’s place and play, not rehearse. These were very casual affairs. We weren’t in a band. We weren’t looking to be signed. It was all very non-committal. Someone would play a song and the rest would join in once they have figured the chords. And very often, if we were lucky, the result would sound something like this.
Pete,
What the fuck? I thought this was going to be a temporary thing? You needed a place to crash; I had a spare nose, we both agreed it was going to be a couple of days. A week tops. But it’s been three weeks now. What’s up? Dude, all you do is lie around all day and embarrass me when my friends are around. You’d think someone would take a hint when you’ve got him squashed between your middle and your index, but no. Instead, he makes an even bigger mess on your face. And didn’t we agree that you were going to take just that one tiny corner on my nose? Now you’re acting like you own the freaking place and it’s totally cramping my style. I want my nose back, Peter. I want to be able to hang out with my friends again, and to meet new people. Gimme back my life! Please, I’m begging you. Look Pete, I don’t want this to turn out any more ugly than it already is. So let’s just settle this like two civilized adults. I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to bed early tonight and in the morning, I expect to see you gone.
C
Give the road kill a quick glance over, turn your head in the opposite direction and squirm, “I can’t look.” Then take a second look to make sure the road kill’s still lying there, motionless, in a pool of its own blood before repeating yourself, “I can’t look.”
Nothing. Simply pull the car to the side of the road, bow your head down, and say nothing.
Repeat the word, “Why” over and over again. But each time, say it with a different inflection to suggest the entire arc of your sensitive side. Beginning with shock, “Why?” Followed by anger, “WHY!” Then denial, “Why,” And finally acceptance, “why.”
Talk about the state we’re in. Beginning with, “I think the human species’ growing at an alarming rate.” Back that up with some alarming statistic, “Did you know that seventy acres of forests die every second? Woah, there goes another seventy acres now.” Following that, you might want to reflect, “Just imagine, this very stretch of highway used to be a breathtaking grassy knoll, home to thousands of woodland creatures, great and small.” Next in your best furry woodland creature voice, corner your date with some guilt-laden rhetoric. Try this, “I mean, how would you like it if I drove big shinny thing through your home?” Now wait for the guilt to settle in before going in for the kill*.
*Note, by ‘kill’ I don’t mean the road kill. Nor do I actually mean ‘kill’ by the literal sense of the word. Look, I’m not suggesting that you have it in you. I don’t know. Why would anyone consider killing anyone? Maybe he got caught up with the whole woodland creature act, and rationalizes that the human species could be such a selfish bunch. He then continues to develop such utter disdain for mankind; he decides to kill the first human he sees. Hey, I’m only trying to help you get laid.
Sssh baby, this whole figuring me out thing, it has to stop. Really. You cannot understand what you do not know. Instead, I beseech you, to simply surrender yourself to my very mysterious ways. Go on. “Whys” are for electrical engineers. We, however, are children of night. You must embrace my very mysterious ways in your warm bosom and treasure every iota of my mystery.
Some days I cry to the sad refrains of an indie ballad, other days I rhyme about my bitches and wheels. Do not attempt to reconcile the two. I do not wish you to tire yourself so foolishly. You must accept the fact that there are occasions when I will partake on a plate of tender veal, with a side of sweet port. And there are times when I will nurse a crippled, motherless fledgling to a soaring sparrow. Do not question my motivations. They will forever remain, a mystery.
So if I say I am going to call but I do not. That is not a sign of weakness or a fear of commitment. Nor out of sheer laziness on my part. Maybe, instead of asking why I never called, ask why I said I was going to call.
***
There’re talks of podcasting in the pipeline. The thought’s most appealing, I’m getting flashbacks of Christian Slater in Pump Up The Volume. Though three months into my new job has left me little time for little else. And that’s not likely to change. Guess I’ll stick with the one song per fortnight format.
Keep popping you there
Laughing! Loving! Crying! Stabbing!
I am trend master
Best! Must! Hit! Shit!
Orange, are you happy?
Cracking me an egg hole
Fanny shopping on sunny day
We are rocking dogs
The Social Contract is nothing more or less than a vast conspiracy of human beings to lie to and humbug themselves and one another for the general good
Lick my sticky
***
I swear I don’t own a Buena Vista Social Club CD.
Barney: “Okay, so you get to be in the driver’s seat whenever we car pool. And you got to be captain of the bowling team. But tell me this Fred, and be honest, are you truly happy? Because I look at Wilma and then Betty then Wilma again... I don’t know Fred.”
***
Until middlemay, I give y’all The Random Malkmus Lyric Generator: “Wrap me up in your arms like cellophane around my cereal bowl.”
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