Friday, March 16, 2012

Musical Conversations

As many people would likely tell you, I don’t talk a lot.  In fact, I would say that’s what most people would say about me if pressed to come up with something, anything, to say about me.   That or some variation – “He’s really quiet” “He seems shy” “Does he have a pulse?” “Who?” – would be the go-to response.
Evidently it’s something of a defining characteristic*, or at least so I’ve gathered.
And it’s true.  Compared to most people, I don’t talk a lot.
There are, of course, many reasons for that, but that’s not what this is about.
While, in general, I don’t talk a lot to people, I do spend a fair amount of time talking to inanimate objects, abstract concepts, hypothetical people, and the singers of the songs I listen to at home or when I’m driving to work.
Here are some examples of that last one.

Garbage:  Come back to my house, stick a stone in your mouth…
Me:  …I…no thank you?

Alice In Chains:  What’s the difference?  I’ll die in this sick world of mine….
Me:  *Sigh*  You sure did, Layne.  You sure did.

Dido:  Take my hand, and if I’m lying to you…
Me:  “If,” Dido?

Liz Phair:  I bet you fall in bed too easily with the beautiful girls who are shyly brave…
Me:  Wow, you’ve really got my number, Liz.  That’s classic me.

Rob Zombie:  How can I make you understand?
Me:  Well, Rob, you might put a little more thought into your actual lyrics.

Dido:  See you when you’re forty, lost and all alone…
Me:  Go fuck yourself, Dido.

*It’s either that or a complete lack of any defining or noteworthy characteristics whatsoever.

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