(no subject)
When I grow up, I want to be Delilah. And don’t pretend like you don’t know who I’m talking about. Sure, you’ll be in your car, it’s late at night, and you’ll be flipping stations when huh, what’s this? A strange, seductively calm, charmingly sweet voice welcoming you to her show. Your show. And you know, somehow, that as impossible as it may seem, she’s talking to you and you alone. And she wants you to join her. To relax from a hard days work. From the stress and struggles of your daily life. Maybe it was a rough day at work; maybe it was traffic. Whatever it was, it’s gone now, and you’re here…with *singing* Delilah.
Her queerly hypnotic voice sneakily breaks down all of your walls, disables all of your defenses, and you’re forced to sit there, listening, helpless.
Yet the people who call in, they all seem to be the same person; rather, two people - one male, one female. And their stories are always somehow tragically sweet. Their misbegotten romances sound like something straight out of “Lowered Expectations” yet end so serenely subtle in secretly stretching your heartstrings. For instance, a woman tonight called up to dedicate a special song to her husband, her best friend and her first love. Apparently they dated in college and he was an ass and it all fell apart. She got married to another man, had kids…got divorced. She wrote a letter and gave it to this lost love’s mother who in turn passed it on to the man. The man had just had a divorce (mayhap there was a child as well) but responded to her letter. Six months later, they were married. That was nine years ago. You’ve got to marry your best friend, the lesson taught, someone who will love you even after you’ve grown fat and ugly. And had a divorce. And a bunch of kids. You stupid redneck. You’re listening to…De-li-lah.
Her queerly hypnotic voice sneakily breaks down all of your walls, disables all of your defenses, and you’re forced to sit there, listening, helpless.
Yet the people who call in, they all seem to be the same person; rather, two people - one male, one female. And their stories are always somehow tragically sweet. Their misbegotten romances sound like something straight out of “Lowered Expectations” yet end so serenely subtle in secretly stretching your heartstrings. For instance, a woman tonight called up to dedicate a special song to her husband, her best friend and her first love. Apparently they dated in college and he was an ass and it all fell apart. She got married to another man, had kids…got divorced. She wrote a letter and gave it to this lost love’s mother who in turn passed it on to the man. The man had just had a divorce (mayhap there was a child as well) but responded to her letter. Six months later, they were married. That was nine years ago. You’ve got to marry your best friend, the lesson taught, someone who will love you even after you’ve grown fat and ugly. And had a divorce. And a bunch of kids. You stupid redneck. You’re listening to…De-li-lah.