The Spotify Syndrome

Music is one of the only things I feel as if I have mastered; not in the way I can play it well, nor even pick up an instrument and make it make beautiful noise.  I feel like I have an ear.  It goes way back to young kid rebellion when you fought your parents for no reason, just to hear other things.

I feel as if I've written about my sister brining home The Violent Femmes back in 1984-85 and just hearing that band made me happy.  I was way into Prince at that point, still am, actually.  But it was the word, "fuck" that lit up my eyes.  It was so bad in 1985....84....still kinda bad now?  At least in front of students.  Prince opened up the f-word to me in 1982 with the 1999 album, his eye spinning around the spindle.  His bare ass on the record sleeve, neon surrounding it.  "C'mon baby, let's fuck..."

But, it was this daring thing back then to even use the word.  I also listened to Minor Threat later,  in those days, 86' to be exact, when I got my first Powell and Peralta board.  I think they were still a a band then and I used my allowance money to order both the board and that iconic shirt of Minor Threat sitting on a porch.  I didn't get what "I don't fuck" meant at that point.  I was 12 and didn't get "fucking" in that way.  Now I do.

Spotify.  Man, God bless it.  Without it, I'd probably be "fucking" all over town.  Those late nights without hindrance til' the morning.  That's when it is odd.  I haven't "fucked" since her, my Favorite Librarian, as it is too raw to even get there.  That is where Spotify is amazing.  I can go back and listen to albums I loved all the time while fucking my brains out.  I can relive old shit where she has no say.  That is the gorgeous thing about it.  It rehabilitates yourself and makes you remember a time you probably had forgotten.

The Spotify syndrome to another extent is that we "follow" each other on that random social/quasi/medium that it is.  I need to drop her.  She needs to drop me, but it is the last bit of anything we have to connect each other to anything.  So, here I sit on a night she didn't play anything.  ANYTHING.  And the last song she played was one of our favorites by Band of Horses.  It played at our wedding a little over a year ago.

What to do.....

Funny how long it took to me to address the Spotify Syndrome.  Maybe that is why it failed.

The Gun Thing (In a Cat Perspective)

Lately, I've been very outspoken on this issue, on Facebook, getting people to respond to an atrocity.  I have always owned cats.  Commanche, Siren, Kumo, Mocha, Natsha, Chloe, Lilly.  Those cats have been with me throughout my entire life.  Kumo is still here.  Commanche died from probably cancer, something no vet will ever know.  Siren, on the other hand, and she had been mentioned in blog posts before, I didn't know how to deal with.  I left her in an abandoned lot in Brooklyn, simply because I didn't know how to care for her.  I knew where she had been left was a rescue center for cats, that she would be found and taken care of.  I'll never forget "dropping her off" there.  She followed me home and I shooed her away.  She was sick in a cat way that vets, without the money I had already put into her ($2500) could not diagnose.

And so, this cat, who slept with me every night for ten years became too much to handle (or, sadly, too expensive).  And, I let her go into the wild.  I'll never stop feeling guilt for that.

So, there are kids, who are not cats, who got shot in a small Connecticut town.  And, I feel like there are so many citizens of this country who just see them as "pets."  They are things we have very little obligation towards because we want what we want.  That "want" turns into a very personal validation of an outdated need.  We don't need guns anymore in the way the Constitution printed it.

I had put on my Facebook post that this country really doesn't care about its' citizens anymore.  That basic heath care was a fight.  That we had to get all uppity to just have one basic right announced and put into law for all of us.  That was a battle.  And, we, seemingly, the country won that one.  Yet, when it comes to this senseless violence, this death without meaning, we are silent for the most part.  There will be another one of these.  We will sit there and say, what could we have done differently?

Back to Siren.  If I had the resources (which were not there), I would have gotten her help.  I'd have taken her to as many clinics as she could have been taken to (which had not existed), and I would have done all I could have done.

A cat and the gun are the same in so many ways.

The Boss and What He Means To Me

There have been countless numbers of fans who have seen Springsteen......countless numbers.  Yet, I guess all I can do is personalize my experience of seeing him.  Incredible.  He is 62, I'm 38.  I cant imagine all that he exerted at once.  Did I also mention I'm an ESL teacher?  I have to give all I got for 2 hours and 35 minutes after a break because I'm tired.  I bought into his sincerity because it isn't bullshit.  He really wants you to walk away from his show and feel good.  He wants you to go home and feel perplexed as I do now because most of what you thought was a "good" or "great" show can't hold up to him.  It is impossible to watch his show and think he doesn't care what "you" think.  And, that is what is what makes Broooooce, Brooooooce.  I didn't think it was possible.  The last stadium show I had seen made me doubt the entire idea.  But, I was......speechless.....and I felt everything he wanted me to feel.....There was only one song from Nebraska.  It came and went.  There was Born to Run.  There wasn't Atlantic City.  There was Johnny 99.  Damn, it was awesome.  Just can't believe I was so close to him.....

So, back to home.  After my mom died, I listened to Philadelphia  as if the song couldn't end.  It was on repeat.  It still makes me cry.

There was no reason for Bruce to play that song on Wednesday.  If you wanna know why it has resonance with me, then just e-mail me....

There was no Atlantic City.....Yet he spoke of ghosts.  And anything he played at that point could have brought back a million scary memories.  Instead, he just made me hold Leigh in ways I hadn't before.  Or, more so, she held me in ways she hadn't seen me before.  And on, and on....

Horror! The Horror!

Began the night watching episodes 9 & 10 of Boardwalk Empire. Pretty good stuff. Then, I thought about the film I had taped, oops, dvred on IFC early tonight. And yes, I did turn a noun into a verb right there! Early tonight or late afternoon was "The Changeling.". It's a 70s film that is really scary. Instead I watched "The Pact". Pretty awful and not that scary. New York magazine said it was awesome. I say, it sucked.

Queen of Something

Went on the annual pilgrimage to see a movie with LG.  For the past few summers, she and I have gone to see a flick.  The years before were Fright Night, Inception, etc.  Usually, we see summer blockbusters or summer fades.  Today we decided to see The Queen of Versailles.  Tough, tough movie to stomach.  I'm going to leave the rotten tomatoes site to fill you in on the breakdown of it.  Essentially, it is a film about too much.

It is about a small company that did everything wrong, but could.  The guy in the film says he supported Bush through Florida, says he did everything he could to support him, yet denies the legality of it.  Nary a soul is there to truly like in the film.  They are all privileged.  They are used to things we will never have and when they have to work a bit, things simply die.  It is quite sad to see a dead lizard, cold eyes and cold blooded as they may be, simply die because someone lets it happen.  The sadness grows in this film.  It is sad because people just acquire shit as they become more wealthy.  The bikes grow.  The pets grow.  The egos do not.  

That s what makes the film worthy of watching.....barely.  Jackie went to RIT.  She worked at IBM.  She is not stupid, yet she inflates her tits to a point that is impossible to ignore looking at.  She is/was so humble and now she is a facade.  She blames her loss on her husband.  He supported Bush, photos of him and Palin, and all you wish for in the back of your mind is the worst.  The film makes them human, yet it makes you hate them.  I guess the bottom line is they are shits.  They are these people who borrowed, consistently, beyond their means. They are the people who were smart enough to borrow and then buy back.  They are the people who made millions suffer.  

Frankly, it was a hard film to watch.  I saw family members getting bullshit laser surgery for vanity while they were running out of money.  It hit close to home.  It just made me realize, as fat as I am, as bad as I may look in a Seersucker suit in a few weeks, I will never be as ugly as they are.  My excess is books.  Not bikes, not cats, not snakes.  I, we, pretty soon, will never have a dead pet.  

The difference is we give a shit.  It isn't about who takes care of me.  We take care of each other and we don't make it too large to simply disobey that law of life.  The Queen of Versailles is sad because the people don't know that.  They consume to consume.  That is Jackie's existence.  She is smart, yet so stupid.  Looking at her early photos shows you how dumb she really is.