"If I'm to fall, would you be there to applaud?"I'm Outta Time - Oasis
I just finished watching the film "Boy A", a British film based on the 2004 book of the same name. The story is set in Manchester, England so I thought it only fitting to quote one of the more recent songs to emerge from the city that gave us The Stone Roses, Joy Division, New Order, and The Chameleons UK.
I'm pretty sure the song might be about falling in love, but that's not what I thought of upon first listen. Aside from the fact that it rips off "Wish You Were Here", my favorite Pink Floyd tune (it wouldn't be Oasis if they didn't "borrow" from someone else now would it?), I immediately thought of someone that I used to think was my friend that would salivate at the thought of my "falling"/failing. I was too stupid and naïve to see it at first, but it sunk in eventually. You couldn't get away from this person unless it was their choice (or they thought it was), and even when you thought you were done, you weren't (insert bad Pacino impression, but with conviction, here).
I finally severed things and had a few good years to myself (don't think I got out without scars either), but like the idiot that I am, I forgave and let the person back "in" somewhat when they contacted me again. Stuuuuupid. A person shows you who they are when you first meet them, if you let them jerk you around, it's your own fault.
Forgiveness is tricky isn't it?
The movie "Boy A" is about this guy is in his early 20's and just out of prison for a crime he committed as a 12 year old. He seems like a nice guy that was properly rehabilitated, and the director introduces you to him in more or less the same view his new environment gets of him. From 12 to 23, there is a big difference, and I do believe you can change, but I think around 15, there are certain things about certain people that will never change. This guy did reform, and they show you in flashbacks from whence he came, but it's the two plot lines of un-forgiveness that shape the ending. The best of intentions always come at a price, it seems.
I stupidly forgive, more often than I should. You just want peace, but these emotional vampires want PIECES. You want so badly to remember the awesome times, because they were some of the best moments of your existence, but the sting you get in the back of your knee whilst unsuspectingly reminiscing, is more painful each time because you should've known it was coming. You warned yourself, and you didn't listen.
This person was a witness to my history, but the pain of being estranged is a pinch compared to the stab that closeness inevitably brings.
"The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one." Elbert Hubbard
I'm sure by now that if you haven't been barraged by sayings about "learning from your mistakes", then you're either one of my amphibious readers (tree frogs totally dig my stuff) or you're tapping in from another dimension never having had the overrated experience of human contact.
We humans are a bunch of fucking freaks. Most of us don't get that you can't go through life without breaking something, or we do on some level, but somehow think we can supersede this small detail.
Our wiring is so contradictory sometimes isn't it? You're brought up to avoid pain (which is unavoidable). Most mental pain comes from mistakes, so mistakes are bad no? No, we learn from them, so we're told, or do we?
And then there are the guru-new-agey-lovey-dovey-outside-the fru fru box-thinkers going on about how there are no mistakes or "accidents", as it were. Oh everything has a purpose, including reality TV shows and the recent fight you had with some smug ass hole about smug ass holes.
Admittedly, sometimes I subscribe to this way of thinking, but other times my cynicism (or pms take your pick) takes over and I just want to start randomly stabbing people, particularly the ones that say that there are no mistakes. I wonder how they would feel about those types of statements when some petite, knife-wielding pissfest has decided those words would be their final ones. Could they find the purpose in such a scenario?
"To avoid criticism do nothing, say nothing, be nothing." Elbert Hubbard
I guess we only know a mistake by its critique, whether it be from another being (my cats ride my ass about everything) or ourselves.
If we think we are infallible does it make us so? I have a hard time believing myself when I say such things, so it's probably down to conviction (or delusion).
I'm not good at sitting still and doing nothing, and we all know I'm not keen on keeping my mouth shut. No, I much prefer the mistakes over nonexistence.
For now, I mean, it's not like I have anything better to do. ________________________________________________________________________
Elbert Hubbard is not a blood relative of Hubbard of Scientology fame. He was an American author that died on the Lusitania in 1915.
Currently listening : The Stand Ins By Okkervil River Release date: 2008-09-09
Affecting an accent, yeah it pisses me off, but not in every instance.
If one is a 'Mo (short for homosexual), one may acquire the gay accent to whatever degree they see fit, and I'll tell you why.
I know all gay men weren't raised by people that speak like Ru Paul (can I get a snap up in here?). I know that when little gay boys were first venturing into the sandbox, they weren't rolling their eyes going "Hooker hand me that red shovel! You trannies build it, but girlfriend's got the interiors!" No, it didn't happen that way, but most of our sweet, gay friends did not have an easy time of it coming up, and I think they had to suppress their real selves for the most part. The gay accent may be who they truly are, so I leave it to their discretion as for its usage.
When I was in 4th grade (8 yrs old), my friend Tom and I worked in the library together at lunch recess. He came to school as a woman for Halloween that year (I was a gorilla and won the costume contest, eh em, home sewn bitches!) and I remember people picking on him and calling him all kinds of things. I didn't really know what "gay" was in suburban Michigan back then, but I adored Tom and punched a few faces so that it never happened again. He did have the gay accent then, but I don't think he even knew. I haven't a clue what became of him, but he was my first gay, and I'll never forget him.
It's such a shame that these harmless aspects of people were so maliciously sat on when we were kids. Parents didn't give a shit if their sons tortured animals or other kids, so long as they weren't wearing yellow pumps while they did it (dark blue may have been allowed, I'm having my people look into it).
I wonder how it is growing up in Australia though, because to me, everyone has the gay accent there. Did they invent it? I watched the Aussie version of Project Runway, and it is clear by looks who is queen or king, but not by accent. They take that sibilant "S" to a whole new level down under. Even David Sedaris would sound like a het-het there!
I love the gay accent. Lovey love. Other accents I dig are the New Mexico accent (yep they have one) and northern British ones, like from Manchester and Liverpool. I like Scottish and Irish the best of all, as I can barely decipher what the hell they're saying half the time.
I was once in a band with this guy from Dublin. We were pretty trashed one night and he was going on about the boards in back of his apartment complex. The rest of us just stared at him with our eyebrows meeting our hairlines. Finally, I figured out he was talking about "birds" not "boards", but it took two drunken UN translators, a soap commercial, and a deck of tarot cards to help crack the code.
I leave you with this old clip "How To Speak Irish" - it's kind of lame but I dug it as a kid. I hope it doesn't offend my new found Irish friends as I want to have torrid affairs with you all (at the same time - oh yeah).
"It won't take you long to learn the new smile. You'll have to adapt or you'll be out of style. It's always the same. You're jumping someone else's train."
Jumping Someone Else's Train - The Cure
I was perusing the "interweb", as I do, and ran across someone saying something to the effect of "I try to be more than a collage of the people around me". This really tugged at my peepers as the last few weeks I've been contemplating writing a piece about overly absorbent people. The type of folks (yeah I said "folks"; I'm originally from Michigan so kindly fuck off) that just are an amalgam of all that they inhale from other people's personalities. We used to call them "posers" when I was coming up, but I've no clue what label these self deluded frauds unknowingly cower under now.
These human barnacles are now more evident than ever with the advent of Youtube, Myspace, etc. Youtube in particular, where you'll see 6,000 different versions (or more) of people filming their friends watching "Two Girls One Cup" (which is a COPY of the movie trailer for "Hungry Bitches" - ah porn accuracy brought to you by Wikipedia), as if the first couple hundred weren't unique enough.
I've seen my own words (I don't OWN the words, but I put in an application for joint custody last week) from my blogging efforts painted elsewhere, assigning credit to authors who really only deserve to be violently stabbed in the balls. Too gender specific? The pilfering fuckwads do claim "MALE" status. Were they females, I'd build them two sacks myself, and then brandish something sharp (but lightweight like an industrial sewing needle) for unleashing some serious psycho voodoo pinning.
There are such a wide variety of these coat-tail dwellers that I think a series of blogs is how I will tackle the subject, ridiculous as it may be. Fuck it. I'm just killing time till time kills me, right?
At this point, I'd like to have a go at those who acquire faux English accents. If you're an American and have only been dating a teabag a week, and start throwing around "trainers" instead of "sneakers", um…you suck ass. Yeah, I've witnessed such a thing. This person lived in the south, but never said "Y'all". They called NYC home for a few years, but Brooklyn did not seize their tongue. Give them one week with a Londoner, and they slip in "trainers" like they've been saying it that way for years. They even seem shocked that you don't know what they're talking about. Thinking back on this, I'm just flabbergasted that I've never done time in prison for assault. Really.
You notice it's the English accent that these flimsy Americans (do Canadians do it too?) are always copping? I've known plenty of people that spent years in Scotland, Ireland, and Australia, and they've never affected those accents. Though, I'm certain that if Madonna had married Billy Connolly, she would've given it the old college try. I grew up in the same area (different ERA - I'm younger) that Madonna did, and homegirl couldn't scare up a proper New York accent for a film role in the '80's, so I can't imagine why she's trying to pirate one from the UK now. She's fuckin' Madonna, how is that not good enough for her? Why does she have to be English now? Does it magically transform you into some pure, clean, intelligencia that didn't shag (oh now I'm doing it) their way to the top?
Do these people know they're doing it? Do the English cringe as much as we do when they hear it?
I don't mind my accent; in fact, I actually enjoy the fact that it annoys people sometimes. It's not as thick as most mid-westerners, but it's quite evident that I hail from a place that heavily consumes various meat products (though I'm phasing them out, regretfully). My accent is the one used by newscasters, as it apparently is the most coherent voice the U.S. can choke out. Although, with my penchant for cursing, one would never connect my dialect with anything professional that wasn't accompanied with a parental advisory of some sort.
I always tend to be the "peer" character in the phrase "peer pressure", so it's difficult for me to cut these osmotic kleptos some slack. I'm just not a follower.
Unless, of course, you tell me to photograph myself bathing in milk, then its lemming time fo sho.
Currently listening : Goo By Sonic Youth Release date: 1990-06-15
I found the next song that I want on in the background (or foreground, I'm not picky) the next time I knock boots (if there ever is a next time, yeesh).
Autolux's "Turnstile Blues".
I first heard it last week when I started to watch "The Air I Breathe", a film that has exquisite cinematography in places, but I feel overall that it tried too hard, if that makes any sense.
There is some quote at the beginning that I've already forgotten, and then "Turnstile Blues" kicks in with almost machine-like precision, laying down the groundwork for HELLZ YEAH (sad when the score outshines the flick, but I'll take what I can get). Oh the protruding cartilage on the sides of my head got all tingly and hopeful. They were not disappointed as the song delivered with a nice laid back approach. The band didn't reach too far, but they caught the edge with finesse and ease down to the last note.
Autolux is from Los Angeles, and I had never heard of them. They have a sort of Apples in Stereo meets My Bloody Valentine sound, so I'm shocked at myself for not having discovered them outside of a soundtrack setting previous to now. I'll beat myself mercilessly with a bag of spiders when I'm done here, I swear.
"Turnstile Blues" is not a pop song. I adore pop songs (go look at my Myspace playlist - oops I went private, ok I'll put a playlist at the bottom of my blog), but I like a good, unconventional wad of noise every now and again. This particular piece sounds kind of like the band Pinback reworked the song "Cannonball" by The Breeders whilst double dosing on LSD.
