Part 8: Song 3
Ten entries about the ten best songs of all time.
Jawbreaker - "Kiss the Bottle"
If you're wondering why it took two months for me to continue this, the answer is, There was something I had to do first.
Not too long ago I made a pact with one of my best friends. The deal was this: If I ever became a crazy old drunken hobo and she became a bitter loveless old woman, we would get married, as a last-ditch effort to save ourselves from complete misery.
These days I'm sure I wouldn't even make it that far. You hear about people living in crushing conditions, having undergone so much conditioning they tolerate it. Of course, Americans have it lucky; you can get a crappy hamburger for $1. Sitting in an RUF meeting, years ago, they took up a collection for--I don't know, the homeless, African children, something, chiding us, "You all know when you wake up tomorrow you'll have something to eat. These people don't have that assurance." I think at that time I had already gone three days without eating a bite, and I knew for a fact when I woke up the next day there wouldn't be any food.
Of course, that was willful. Some of us value other things over food. Some of us can go five days without eating and get sunken eyes and pale skin and worry everyone around us but still have enough energy to walk across campus to class in the morning. It's about habit. You don't eat so your stomach hurts. Don't eat long enough and your stomach will not hurt, in fact it will hurt when you eat--in fact all sorts of fun things will happen. Maybe all your dreams come true for a little while.
In my dreams, I'm a dedicated smoker. I still drive around at night, singing along, telling stories, listening, arguing, saying immensely weird things that remind you of your last acid trip. But always with the window cracked and a cigarette in hand. Is it love or is it jealousy? Maybe it's a simple gesture of affection, one that ends disastrously when I hit the floor and wake up.
Jawbreaker - "Kiss the Bottle"
If you're wondering why it took two months for me to continue this, the answer is, There was something I had to do first.
Not too long ago I made a pact with one of my best friends. The deal was this: If I ever became a crazy old drunken hobo and she became a bitter loveless old woman, we would get married, as a last-ditch effort to save ourselves from complete misery.
These days I'm sure I wouldn't even make it that far. You hear about people living in crushing conditions, having undergone so much conditioning they tolerate it. Of course, Americans have it lucky; you can get a crappy hamburger for $1. Sitting in an RUF meeting, years ago, they took up a collection for--I don't know, the homeless, African children, something, chiding us, "You all know when you wake up tomorrow you'll have something to eat. These people don't have that assurance." I think at that time I had already gone three days without eating a bite, and I knew for a fact when I woke up the next day there wouldn't be any food.
Of course, that was willful. Some of us value other things over food. Some of us can go five days without eating and get sunken eyes and pale skin and worry everyone around us but still have enough energy to walk across campus to class in the morning. It's about habit. You don't eat so your stomach hurts. Don't eat long enough and your stomach will not hurt, in fact it will hurt when you eat--in fact all sorts of fun things will happen. Maybe all your dreams come true for a little while.
In my dreams, I'm a dedicated smoker. I still drive around at night, singing along, telling stories, listening, arguing, saying immensely weird things that remind you of your last acid trip. But always with the window cracked and a cigarette in hand. Is it love or is it jealousy? Maybe it's a simple gesture of affection, one that ends disastrously when I hit the floor and wake up.