Monday, December 04, 2006

honey I feel so exposed

This should probably be cross-posted to Craigslist:

    Dear Nice-Enough Fellow,

    I hereby offer you my humble apology on behalf of all of my kind. You will probably find this difficult to fathom, but I am actually aware of how much courage is required to amass the nerve to speak to someone you have never met. Granted, starting with "Excuse me, what are you drinking?" is kind of the equivalent of "How you doin'?" But I know how difficult an opening line can be, so I mean to tell you that I was still charmed.

    Of course, it would be impossible for you to surmise this, given that I began eyeing the exit as soon as you began speaking to me. And yes, I basically pushed co-worker GBF out of the bar as soon as he returned from the bathroom. It would be difficult for you to guess that I felt awfully later. It would be difficult for you to ascertain, given my rude and hasty departure, that I did not actually have anything against you. You were a perfectly nice person, and not at all unpleasant to look at.

    I wish that I could attribute my terrible manners to too many Grey Goose and Tonics and the late hour, but given that it was 7:30 when I left, I know that excuse is not likely to fly. The purpose of my apology is really only to say this: your bravery should have been applauded, and I hope my idiotic flight response to your overture will not put you off from such outreach in the future. I promise you that most women are not complete jerks like me.

    Then again, you may be well-versed at this and do not even remember me, in which case, kindly disregard this letter.

    A$$hat at the neighborhood bar on Friday night

Well. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I am going to try something new. Since a lot of people have said they are not even aware that I post a song once a week here, I am going to try to bring attention to that by pointing it out every Monday with a brief explanation of why. We will see how well this works- sometimes writing about music is completely stupid, because the experience of listening to a song is so different depending on who you are, what you're going through at that particular moment, and what about music draws you to it. But, stupidity has never stopped me before, so here we go again.

This week was probably a bad week to start, because this week, I went with the tried and true- Dylan. Blood on the Tracks is only one of the best albums ever made, so it is nearly a disservice to sully it by writing about it. But I do want to point out why I chose Meet Me in the Morning. Some of the songs on the album are brilliantly written gems, soul-squeezing ballads and laments. But Meet Me in the Morning is straight up blues when you come right down to it.

Even though I have been floating about on the stars for over a week now, I had a night on Saturday. You know what I'm talking about- too much alcohol, uncomfortable shoes, getting home at 3, waking up with a throbbing headache that lays you out for all of Sunday. That kind of a night. To tell the truth, without sounding like someone in need of an intervention, I am still recovering today. Come to think of it, maybe that just points out that, as Danny Glover would say, I am getting too old for this sh*t. Either way, my head is still a little jangly this morning and I am still a little spent.

At such times, the blues are what I find particularly useful. Perhaps you go with some strange concoction involving tomato juice or a raw egg (or I've even heard of some people trying the cure-by-a-beer approach). Me, I go for the blues. And not the slick blues with too much electric guitar and bass. No, I need the down-and-dirty blues, the kind that someone might be strumming at a bus stop, and that is exactly what Meet Me in the Morning delivers without fail.

Dylan and his unintelligible warbling are perfect for evoking the feeling of ambling down a dirty street in the Mission after a night of too much revelry. The lyrics are not breathtakingly profound, and that is equally important when you need the straight up blues. You don't need to be listening to Tangled Up in Blue, getting your brain cranked up on overdrive with those visuals. No, at such a moment, you need: They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn.

Maybe I am prone to dramatics. Or maybe I fall prey to the common inclination to give my life a soundtrack. But I also find that listening to such a song when you are a little worse for wear is the way to pick yourself up and carry on. There is something about the blues that is resigned- the whole theme of the genre can be distilled down to life sucks, but we keep singing about it anyway. I guess some people can turn the blues into a pity party, but I find it more grit and realism. It gives me just the kick in my pants I need to get me up and shuffling along with my day, instead of getting lost in a reverie of bad decisions or unfortunate circumstances.

Perhaps you are not in the mood for the blues. But if you do take the time to listen to the tune (on the sidebar), comments would be most welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go main-line some caffeine.

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