Oh, stupid Australia. Why do I miss you so much?
I’ve been listening to lots of random rock music lately. You know that music you listened to in the early 80’s and 90’s, and how at some point you had a weird lapse and missed a few years (normally those are the fabricated pop years, where the singers dance but don’t really sing) and then you wake up listening to Queens of the Stone Age?
Except they’ve broken up now because that’s how these things happen.
I has this fantastic conversation with a brilliant male person in a bar over the weekend, about the above topic. The music of our youth is such an integral part of who we are as adults. If you’re one of those “music people”, you tie what you were listening to when such and such happened, or what you turned up as you drove away from your ex-lover’s house.
I have a friend who was married 9 years ago, almost 10, and I distinctly remember a sad little guitar duo playing Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls at their wedding. Maybe not the best choice, but certainly timely.
And I have always wanted to so have a knock down drag out fight to Welcome to the Jungle.
I’m a pacifist and Guns n Roses kind of sucks now but still. Axl Rose has dredlocks.
I like to drive fast and listen to Radar Love by Golden Earring. Or when it’s raining and I’m taking a winding road through New England, play My Father’s Gun by Elton John, because it’s ironic. And fucking AWESOME!
Oh, children. I’m traveling like crazy lately, trying to leave all my nonsense behind. It’s not working, but my road mix playlist is becoming more refined. I had one for Halloween, and I’m making one for the Halloween After Story, in which I explain how there was a cat that the above mention brilliant male petted, and then he (the boy, not the cat) took some photos and was granted the ability to hula hoop and pogo, while two European SuperModels (not really, just us) took pictures and chainsmoked and then became Jilted Pregnant Redneck Bride and Death, who later met up with Jesus and Medusa.
It gets a little involved after that.
Anyway, I’m working on it.
I’m headed to the woods this weekend, but I wish I was going to drive down the Great Ocean Road, and stay at that cabin in Lorne again.
Or at least go back to that bar from this last weekend….
“Without music, life would be a mistake.” I sometimes wonder if the poor sick atheist guy who was twisted with his sister really believed it was the lack of music that made our lives a mistake. Methinks he was either on to something, or just if Friedrich Nietzsche was terribly confused.
