Seven: Cell phone debris

Is it weird that I often hear despair in dance music? Does anyone else sense this, or am I just a bummer? The more disco-dancefloor oriented it is, the sadder it sounds to me. There was something weirdly lamentive (which is not a word) in songs I've heard from Boney M (Rasputin) ABBA and Aqua. Like there's kind of hopeless surrender to the impulse of the dancefloor, a world the singer knows is utterly shallow and soulless but is powerless against. I feel like that's not a thought that occurs to a lot of people, and probably for a good reason, it's a bit dumb to think. I'm kinda messed up if I'm hearing sadness in these hedonistic rhythm and beats. Poker Face by Lady Gaga sounds like one of the saddest pieces of music I've heard in a while, obviously not by design. It's not a very good song.

Well shit, man, I can't explain it. I'm messed up in that way. I don't even know why I was listening to Poker Face.

It was a gorgeous autumn day. I was feeling good. I can't explain it. I stepped off the subway and felt the warmth of the sun and the cool fall breeze and I felt good. The music in my ears made me feel cheerful, particularly Dreaming of You by the Coral, whose peppy tones belie the sadness of its lyrics. I was bobbing my head and shuffling rhythmically along the sidewalk. I was smiling at strangers. I so rarely do that. I felt good.

I chatted up this random girl. I don't know her name; I feel like I should, but I never asked and now we've talked too long for a natural opportunity. I first spoke to her because Martina was, but Martina doesn't know her name either. Shh.

The good feeling lasted through lecture, which was the standard Film course lecture on how Spielberg and Lucas took down Coppola's and Scorsese's brilliant auteurist movement with their cold calculating cash grabs. I'm not a big fan of that perspective, I think it overly simple.

I started to feel a bit less cool around lunch, when my sandwich felt gross; the latest in a trend of unsatisfying homemade sandwiches. I need to alter my eating habits. I didn't buy sandwich stuff this week. I can tell already it's going to be something I regret, but I figured I might as well change it up a little for this week.

It feels later that it is, owing to a bit of not-depression, but certainly bummer, on my part. After dinner, I was supposed to have an interview at HMV, but it has to be rescheduled, and the only available times I kinda need to work on my drama project which isn't coming along perfectly (we delayed way too much with it.) From the way Karen (the new manager at HMV) spoke, it seemed like a foregone conclusion I'd already gotten the job, but she needed to actually converse with me to ensure I was not in fact some kind of psychopath. Well she was sick today. We'll deal with it. We always do.

I'm feeling stagnant. I should've done some reading, I probably still can. I felt like writing. I've been putting off this play, constructing it in my head, afraid it still won't be as good as I want it to be. When did I start to doubt myself this much? Used to be, it was the only thing I was confident about. Cocky maybe even. I always had a bit of self-consciousness and doubt, the ability to re-evaluate my work, but I've never felt paralyzed by it. I keep putting it off to focus on school, but if I'm not focussing completely on school, what's the point? Now I'm just doing nothing. Warg.

Dusted off a story from the summer I was very happy with. When I re-read it, it still held up in my mind. I posted it on Writer's Cafe, the first thing I've put on there since they wiped out their databases (I was rather outraged when that happened and did not intend to ever return; a number of my items only existed there, which was my own fault.) The first and as-yet piece of feedback was that it was "interesting" but that the end should be expanded, and I agree, although I hadn't thought it before, so it's already worked out.

I have a lot of stories I am eager to re-write. Even the ones I think are good, I know I want to change. A lot of them are supposed to fit together. There is never time for this sort of thing. I owe too many people too many things to do anything for myself anymore; a shame, I could write whatever I wanted when I wrote only for myself. And I did.

I have put a bunch of new 80's songs on my iPod, mostly weird pop songs, the kinds of things I was really into in high school. A-Ha, Animotion, 'Til Tuesday, Modern English, Madness. The kinds of things they use to sell on massive CD compilations at the dawn of that medium. If I saw one of those commercials I could probably sing along to the exact phrases of each song... Glass Tiger, REO Speedwagon, Thompson Twins, although not so much for actually putting those on the iPod. I used to love VH1's Top 80 of the 80's special, and nearly as much its sequel, Top 90 of the 90's. The first time I saw those specials, I uncovered a number of gems for myself.

A quote, attributed to Frank Zappa but who knows if he actually said it, says that talking about music is like dancing about architecture. I talk about music a lot. I'm not a musician though, so it's all I can do. I was once in a car with Joe and Viki and Viki's parents (who have slowly gotten to know me over time as I keep showing up to their gigs.) My not being a musician yet still being passionate about music was a topic of conversation. Even now there is a lot of terminology I get confused on but would use more properly if I were an actual musician.

Now I'm just rambling. I wonder if, in this state, I could write something relatively productive. Hm, hm. Not the right night for playwrighting, but...

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto