Saturday, October 4, 2008

musical masochism

i am beginning to believe that feelings are what really dictates the course of the whole wide world. if we knew what to do with them or why we have them or how to deal with somebody else's, then reality would be a lot different.
let's see...there might not be any soul music. perhaps ia m such a soul music freak because The Impressions, The Fleetwoods, Al Green, Etta James, Jack Johnson, KT Tunstall (okay so maybe i already lost a bunch of you with the last two- anyway if you can't handle a genre slip technicality, FYI nothing here for you...) and i am not tlaking about R & B here- totally different in my estimation.

***this post was continued months later***

musical masochism is a term that happened on me in the early 90's when my BF at the time ran off to Vegas with a friend and got married in an Elvis chapel on a dare. it broke my heart though true to habit of mine there was no commitment in the relationship- only my secret resolve to ditch my Tinkerbell Pixie pants for Wendy's chicken broth nightgown and take Peter Pan down to earth with me...back to the tale at hand- while BF du jour was off in Sin City with rocker babe there i was with the other man- Jim Beam. My roommate didn't feel the need to respond until Patsy Cline or Glen Campbell were spun one too many times. he told me, this musical masochism has got to get to the next level. he scooped me up and delivered me to Murphy's on Mission where we matched tears for beers and threw back shots of Beam in between- the dark velvet black out ensued somewhere around Johnny Cash moaning out Kris Kristoffersson's Sunday Morning Coming Down.

Today i am licking BF wounds again. this time music is really wrecked for me. i am going to have to carve out some new playlists- everything i love closest to my heart of hearts keeps echoing through the halls of memory and meaning associated with you know who. there are a few untouched, but the song remains the same my up music is mostly like a ghost poking you or a breeze from no where come to scratch you in your fresh road rash. once the scab forms, lifts and then itches like hell, then you can look at it and you have to rebuild in order to get a vivid remember of the pain. This is my favorite part about it- you don't lose those memories- that's how each love gets to live for allways, better or worse- stamping time on your heart.

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