day and night, why is it so, that this longing for you follows wherever I go?
| | So, somebody threw a knife at a customer today. Kind of exciting, only kinda because 1. he missed and 2. it was a pocket knife (not the scariest of weapons).
While I love purchasing albums (and I may be the only person under the age of 45 who calls them that), and the whole album experience (listening to how they're arranged, playing them over and over again). There's something really wonderful to be said about downloading random songs. An album is a commitment, you make a -statement- (well, it seems I do). At seventeen bucks a pop, you have to be -sure- you want it. It's like a marriage. But a one song deal, well that, that's like a fling. And man, I've been -such- a slut lately with music. Right now I'm rockin' out to my man Otis (not -my- man, Duckie's man Otis), next it's Ella with Night and Day (stop laughing, I like some old standards, and I can -dance- to these you only wish you could). Paul Simon, Mystikal, Frankie Valli, Bjork, Edith Piaf all live together in my musical world. Desi Arnez and Jaco Pastorius, Snoop Dogg and Shostakovitch are neighbors. Lata called my music delightfully eclectic. With the exception of Paul Simon (I have my parent's tape of Graceland, but my tape players broke years ago) I don't own any cd's by these artists. I'd -like- to, but of course I don't have that kind of money.
Oh man, I wish I had money (and a free schedule) to take ballroom dancing classes again. I love the gliding about the floor. I remember when I went to that dance hall with Jacob... oh ages ago now, I suppose. And there was a live band, and the lights were dim and it was elegant and beautiful, of course we were the youngest people there by twenty five years, but still. I suppose it's my desire for a little glamor.
It's all part of the same thing, I think. Imagination versus real life. Real life has the benefit of being, well, real. It happened (happens and all of the tenses in between), and other people remember it, too. But my -imagination-, oh there is beauty. So many fantastic (the other meaning of the word, not the colloquial) things happen in my imagination. The world is such a much more interesting place, in my head. Absurdist at times, nearly -always- cinematic, NEVER boring. Reality lacks smoking gnomes, it's true. It also lacks grand conspiracies over trivialities. There is a shocking lack of maniacal evildoers who scheme to... make chip bags hard to open, or make it so the scanners at my work make a beep that no one knows what the hell it does. ['Meep meep' means clearance, 'deedle deedle deedle' means send the book back to the vendor, 'deedle deedle deedle deedle deedle' means its a strict on sale don't put it on the floor, 'EEEP EEEP' means hey idiot the battery is low, a random 'brrp' means either you hit a key wrong -or- the machine is going to freeze up -then- crash. But what is 'meep meep meep'? What does that third meep MEAN? Something? nothing? Is perhaps the WORLD ENDING? Or, is someone having a good laugh at us? Some rich executive type laughing at night on his yacht entertaining women with how ingenuous he is. "Shometimes," (he says, drunkenly) "sometimes, I just make shit up. I mean seriously, I had them program the scanners to make a random beep sound on some books.. FOR NO REASON, jhust to jshust to fuck wi' 'em. All those little booksellers, they're like, like, tiny things, bugs, you know the guys who ruin picnics. Antsh! They're like antsh, runnin' around not knowing what it does!" and the women laugh uproariously at him (light glinting off their diamonds), because he's so powerful... I hate him. I -hate- this imaginary man. ...wow, this aside got out of hand]
What in the hell was I talking about? Oh, right. See, that would be another example of things don't -really- happen. There are advantages to reality, it means that when my ceiling leaked and the paint bulged in a creepy manner, I know that it really -wasn't- alien/monster babies in an egg sack, just foul smelling water. That's good. But it means that Ewan MacGreggor will never appear out my window singing at top volume that he and I should be lovers, or that one day, I'll be minding my own business and the person next to me will stand up, hands on hips and say "OOOOOOOOOOKLAHOMA when the wind comes sweepin' down the plain!" (oh man, if they did that, I'd so be able to come back with the second verse) Or that you know, if I just -tried- hard enough I could shoot fireballs out of my hands.
I ask you, is it worth it, after all? This reality thing?
Man... I should probably go to bed, my brain is wandering.
I love it how when things were going on, I had nothing to say, and now that essentially nothing is going on, I can't seem to -shut up-.
posted by Amber at 1:24 AM
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About Me
I really like to read, overanalyze things, and dance, maybe not in that order. Oh, I also believe in being intellectual and silly.
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