After just finishing an article about Kings of Leon in Rolling Stone, I find a music video of theirs among the free offerings in the airplane music fare. It is called “Use Somebody” and the song, along with the music video, is raw grit.
The vocals start with reluctance, almost as though the words are too painful for Caleb to say. And yet, he fights himself to say them, as the rising guitar echo the duality of his reluctance and his driving need to say what he must. Caleb’s voice is desperate, and the rock and roll gravel simultaneously tears you to shreds and raises you high, a veritable crowd surf of vocal emotion. The guitar hooks, the bass and drum combo dare your heart to beat out of their relentless rhythm.
The rawness of their music is perhaps best reflected in this song and video. In this song, besides the grunting rawness of rock and roll grunge, is genuine pain in the juxtaposing images of them on tour, running the gamut of their brutal life, with the more mundane images of them playing pool, getting stoned, being stoned. But the song’s desperation give the quick shots the fire of tequila, the slow smoky ones the sensual headiness of scotch. The relentless fervor of mindless pushups, showering off post concert grime, memories of performance. Quiet moments of prayer, arms encircling one another.
The potency of the contrasting images pummel you with the reminders of the power of rock and roll. The hook-line-and-sinker pull of this fantastical hedonism is that it has a dark side, and the most frightening things about it is its ability to beckon nonetheless. It is the siren’s song: pleasure and pain inextricably intertwined.
Kings of Leon achieve that in this song: the pleasure-pain, the dark underbelly of loving, longing, destroying yourself in the process. The demons they’re outrunning might destroy them, and perhaps you in the process. If not for the honest moments of pure heartbreak. Those, my friend, will save your soul.
See also: Almost Famous
Monday, August 31, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Adventures and Misadventures of Sweet Dee
My boss grumbles. At me.
It’s frustrating when you’re trying to take dictation for him (does one take dictation? Do dictation? He dictates. I type. My sole purpose in that office is my fast fingers. I have nightmares about falling and breaking them. I will be out of a job) and he grumbles and mumbles under his breath at me. It’s awfully hard to hear what I’m supposed to type when he’s muttering intelligibly. I’ve never been good with foreign languages. I’m always afraid of asking him to clarify what he’s saying; the phrase “poking a sleeping dragon” comes to mind.
But I must. I must hear what he is saying. Otherwise he’ll make his grumbling louder, and ANGRIER when I get it wrong.
What is a meek, timid, girl-who-wants-to-stay-employed to do?
By the way, nothing makes you feel worse than having a boss making you feel idiotic all day, answering innocent questions with such “well, DUH,” expression and tone that teenagers in the vicinity would squirm with jealousy. The incompetence and self righteousness rises in waves, and you are so sure that you are so much smarter and this is so not worth your time. Then imagine discovering something you really and truly did. And it was stupid enough to qualify you the village idiot du jour.
Also, I discovered that I am incapable of eating salads neatly. Either that, or I don’t cut my veggies small enough. Off to finishing school for me.
It’s frustrating when you’re trying to take dictation for him (does one take dictation? Do dictation? He dictates. I type. My sole purpose in that office is my fast fingers. I have nightmares about falling and breaking them. I will be out of a job) and he grumbles and mumbles under his breath at me. It’s awfully hard to hear what I’m supposed to type when he’s muttering intelligibly. I’ve never been good with foreign languages. I’m always afraid of asking him to clarify what he’s saying; the phrase “poking a sleeping dragon” comes to mind.
But I must. I must hear what he is saying. Otherwise he’ll make his grumbling louder, and ANGRIER when I get it wrong.
What is a meek, timid, girl-who-wants-to-stay-employed to do?
By the way, nothing makes you feel worse than having a boss making you feel idiotic all day, answering innocent questions with such “well, DUH,” expression and tone that teenagers in the vicinity would squirm with jealousy. The incompetence and self righteousness rises in waves, and you are so sure that you are so much smarter and this is so not worth your time. Then imagine discovering something you really and truly did. And it was stupid enough to qualify you the village idiot du jour.
Also, I discovered that I am incapable of eating salads neatly. Either that, or I don’t cut my veggies small enough. Off to finishing school for me.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Inside/Outside Voices
Why do things always sound so much more legitimate coming out of other people's mouths? I'm always much more inclined to believe something if it's coming from the lips of another than if it was formulated in my own head and voiced with my voice. I wonder why that is. My first insticnt was to think thaty maybe it was lack of faith in my own judgment. But I think it's more subtle than that.
I think it's that when I formulate an answer, I know in my own head what is flawed. Meaning, what parts of answers I'm basing on things I don't actually know, what parts are my own opinion, what parts I may be remembering incorrectly. I know the integrity of my answers, andI don't quite know if the good outweighs the bad. All these things are things that only I know when I open my mouth, and maybe I put too much stock in them when I offer an answer. It's not life or death, for goodness sakes.
Than again, maybe I'm just afraid of being wrong.
I think it's that when I formulate an answer, I know in my own head what is flawed. Meaning, what parts of answers I'm basing on things I don't actually know, what parts are my own opinion, what parts I may be remembering incorrectly. I know the integrity of my answers, andI don't quite know if the good outweighs the bad. All these things are things that only I know when I open my mouth, and maybe I put too much stock in them when I offer an answer. It's not life or death, for goodness sakes.
Than again, maybe I'm just afraid of being wrong.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Good on Paper
Sometimes I feel like I want too much.
On this latest slew of dates and non-dates, I’ve discovered a couple of things: 1) I’m good at making boys like me on dates. 2) Apparently I’m “interesting” and 3) I don’t think the shidduch system will work for me.
There are things that I want and think I need in a potential partner. These things are not things that are generally listed on paper, nor are they necessarily quantifiable. Does that mean that they’re not valid? I keep rejecting “nice” young men (that sounds like I’ve rejected a million. Really only a few, I promise). And it’s hard. Because no one wants to reject or hurt someone nice. We all were brought up to believe that nice people deserve nice things, and insofar as we can make that happen, we should. And this “being cruel to be kind” crap doesn’t cut it. It stinks to hurt nice people, even if it is better in the long run.
And perhaps the most painful part of the whole damn thing is that because they’re nice, there’s really no concrete reason you can give to why they won’t work. There’s a range of reason that people give: There’s no chemistry, there’s something not clicking, there’s a disconnect, I don’t see a future…These are all really code for, “I have no quantifiable reason other than the fact that I know, deep down in my bones, that it will never ever work in the long run with this person, and we will never make each other happy.” The shidduch system doesn’t really lend itself well to explanations that involve instinctive knowledge.
I know what I wanted. I thought I knew what I needed. But in the recent past I’ve come to reconsider some elements. I’ve found out that I need someone who I can’t boss around, who is my intellectual equal, but will still respect me and my opinions even he thinks that I’m wrong, and manages to prove it. This is just one quality among a few that I’m looking for. That’s a three dimensional quality.
But I don’t know how much of this is quantifiable on a resume (or on a profile). And I don’t know if I can survive in a system that works by what looks good on paper.
Paper is only two dimensional.
On this latest slew of dates and non-dates, I’ve discovered a couple of things: 1) I’m good at making boys like me on dates. 2) Apparently I’m “interesting” and 3) I don’t think the shidduch system will work for me.
There are things that I want and think I need in a potential partner. These things are not things that are generally listed on paper, nor are they necessarily quantifiable. Does that mean that they’re not valid? I keep rejecting “nice” young men (that sounds like I’ve rejected a million. Really only a few, I promise). And it’s hard. Because no one wants to reject or hurt someone nice. We all were brought up to believe that nice people deserve nice things, and insofar as we can make that happen, we should. And this “being cruel to be kind” crap doesn’t cut it. It stinks to hurt nice people, even if it is better in the long run.
And perhaps the most painful part of the whole damn thing is that because they’re nice, there’s really no concrete reason you can give to why they won’t work. There’s a range of reason that people give: There’s no chemistry, there’s something not clicking, there’s a disconnect, I don’t see a future…These are all really code for, “I have no quantifiable reason other than the fact that I know, deep down in my bones, that it will never ever work in the long run with this person, and we will never make each other happy.” The shidduch system doesn’t really lend itself well to explanations that involve instinctive knowledge.
I know what I wanted. I thought I knew what I needed. But in the recent past I’ve come to reconsider some elements. I’ve found out that I need someone who I can’t boss around, who is my intellectual equal, but will still respect me and my opinions even he thinks that I’m wrong, and manages to prove it. This is just one quality among a few that I’m looking for. That’s a three dimensional quality.
But I don’t know how much of this is quantifiable on a resume (or on a profile). And I don’t know if I can survive in a system that works by what looks good on paper.
Paper is only two dimensional.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
As Seen From the Air
*This was written on an airplane trip, at around 1am*
I can't believe that it's come to this. I'm driven to desperation, so filled with the need to write that I'm scribbling on a throwup bag I found, as promised, in the seat pocket in front of me. I've forgotten my journal on this airplane trip, for the first time in as long as I can remember. I've never, to my memory, been so filled with desperation to write before. I actually feel it as a physical pressure in my chest, building up and I needed to get something, anything, out of me and onto paper. I feel like my mind's going nonstop with wanting things. The sheer mass of my wanting surprises even me. I want to write music, I want to write articles, and I want to write about sports. I want to be smart and sexy and talented and at the top of my game. I want to be sweet. I want to tap into the pure, positive power that I have inside of me and let it shine and fill the world with its goodness. I want to be socially aware, and active and I want and want and want so much that I feel close to bursting with it. I want to reach out and fully touch, grasp, and hold the glowing light that is my curious life force in this world. I want to understand it, and not be afraid to be passionate. Passion without fear. I want to be great and humble at the same time. I want to be close to G-d. I want to be close to humans. I want to be good and make upright honest just decisions. I want to be fair. I want to promote fairness. I want to make a difference, I want to find somebody who loves me and I want to achieve. I want to Be, in every sense of the word.
The above was written as the schoolyear was beginning, me full of optimism and hope and drive. Why do those feelings fade with the daily grind of school life, of real life? In light of the nitty gritty details of reality this post seems foolish, almost naive. And yet, I truly don't believe it has to be that way. I'd like to find a way to embrace and generate this type of feeling more often. Because honestly, I'm much too young to be this cynical.
I can't believe that it's come to this. I'm driven to desperation, so filled with the need to write that I'm scribbling on a throwup bag I found, as promised, in the seat pocket in front of me. I've forgotten my journal on this airplane trip, for the first time in as long as I can remember. I've never, to my memory, been so filled with desperation to write before. I actually feel it as a physical pressure in my chest, building up and I needed to get something, anything, out of me and onto paper. I feel like my mind's going nonstop with wanting things. The sheer mass of my wanting surprises even me. I want to write music, I want to write articles, and I want to write about sports. I want to be smart and sexy and talented and at the top of my game. I want to be sweet. I want to tap into the pure, positive power that I have inside of me and let it shine and fill the world with its goodness. I want to be socially aware, and active and I want and want and want so much that I feel close to bursting with it. I want to reach out and fully touch, grasp, and hold the glowing light that is my curious life force in this world. I want to understand it, and not be afraid to be passionate. Passion without fear. I want to be great and humble at the same time. I want to be close to G-d. I want to be close to humans. I want to be good and make upright honest just decisions. I want to be fair. I want to promote fairness. I want to make a difference, I want to find somebody who loves me and I want to achieve. I want to Be, in every sense of the word.
The above was written as the schoolyear was beginning, me full of optimism and hope and drive. Why do those feelings fade with the daily grind of school life, of real life? In light of the nitty gritty details of reality this post seems foolish, almost naive. And yet, I truly don't believe it has to be that way. I'd like to find a way to embrace and generate this type of feeling more often. Because honestly, I'm much too young to be this cynical.
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