2004-02-27 - 7:54 p.m.
1. An awfully nice song: "Heroes" by Bowie, as re-envisioned by Philip Glass. Two writers (Eno & Bowie), translated into music by Bowie and x number of musicians and a producer into a single, then decrypted by the mind of Glass and reworked for y number of musicians and a conductor and a different producer, starting from concept to performance to neurological engram into a statement of personal liberation, then made into an anthem for the twenty-first century! Whee! And it's not only music, either -- it's also perfectly good for a nice Hildegaard von Bingen experience or two.2. You go into a nursing home now, and you hear big band music and the Andrews Sisters. When I am in a home, senile and wheelchair-bound... will they be playing Glenn Miller, or will I be bobbing feebly up and down to "Dancing With Myself" and "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and "When Doves Cry"? I shudder.
3. "Whining" tends to come from two distinct classes of human being. First, you have those who are born complainers. Then you have those who are "whining" because they recognize the very real pain and stupidity that comes with life here on the Mudball. So if we shall call it "whining", so be it. To me, it might just be a mark of sanity, not a character flaw.
4. And now, a song.
Ahem. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccckkkk!!!!! Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!!!!!"
(Primal Scream Therapy may have helped those who believe in it, but it never made for great lyrics. I had a friend once who was a great proponent of what he called "Primal Shrug Therapy," which consisted of shrugging and half-heartedly saying "Ah... fuck it." Such wisdom!)
4a. My friend could often pull this off, but I wasn't so good at it. I was much, much better at wallowing and overthinking. I think I manage to both wallow, dwell, overthink yada yada and shrug things off. There ought to be a clinical term for this sort of mindset. I could name it and write a self help book and everything. I would name it, but I don't know how to say "coiled spring of repressed rage, ready to blow" in Latin. Hee!
5. At one time years ago, before I came to Regina, I used to make a girl I was with at the time say "love" out loud, trying to make her enjoy the sound of it. It almost worked.
6. I think I may adopt "it almost worked" as my personal catchphrase, like "so it goes." You've got to admit, it would look great on a tombstone. Hee!
This whine has been brought to you by nostalgia, and is humbly dedicated to good ol' Ron, wherever the hell the asshole is now. Namaste...
