i'm from the
south, so i am going to start listening to country music. this is beacuse i'm trying to get an inroad into listening to a better, more universal music, the music quentin tarantino listens to. i was thinking about this last night, and because of it i had a dream in which cory arcangel was wearing a cowboy hat, and then gave me his cowboy hat. that is probably the funnest thing that has happened to me in a dream for a month. but anyway, what got me started on this was "fist city" by loretta lynn. also "mama tried" by merle haggard, and "witchita lineman" by glen campbell.
when i was little, my parents listened to ONLY the following albums:
deja vu
nick of time
eric clapton unplugged
blues and roots
ingenue
absolute torch and twang
reason i like country music:
THE VOCALS ARE BETTER / THE SWAGGER IS BIGGER / THE GUITARS ARE SLITHERIER
it used to freak out the annoying hippies i lived with in 'frisco when i played "these boots are made for walkin'" because they were stoned idiots. there would extrapolate meaning from me playing it. people are always extrapolating meaning from me, and back then i would start to believe them. i was in a dark living room and it was 2006. OH YEAH. there were tremendously annoying parakeets that i almost murdered. back then, i knew how to make cream of carrot soup really well, and can't remember the recipe. one of my housemates said he was from "ohio- the big island", but really he said "hawaii- the big island". he was rich, i think. he was one of those rich people who thinks you want to be friends with him only because he is rich. there was the newsie-like gay chick. there was the know it all alterna-chick. there was the actually really friendly guy who began sleeping with the classy art chick, as of the day before i came to live there. there was an axis of wackness formed by this other guy and his new girlfriend. there was the goofy girl from mit (it is easy to get into mit when you are a girl). i cultivated all these defense mechanisms to deal with them, my housemates, and soon those mechanisms came to be who i was. around this time is when i committed myspace suicide. my head was shaved. and i had accidentally bought a skin-head-looking sweater. i already owned skin-head looking jeans. it was FREEZING all the time. i had purchased marijuana from erin hurley's coworker and watched "walk the line", which has kind of ghastly erotic overtones.
anyway since then i have learned that it is a mistake to expect very much from movies/people, especially strange housemates. i think everything would have been fine if i had learned to sleep more during this venture. more sleep, more earplugs. more isolation and patience.
sorry i just want to take this time in my life, squeeze it into a ball, and throw it at you.
