It’s winter. There’s
nothing to do. I suppose that means
writing should be happening. A lot of
it. This is difficult. My walls are uninspiring. The bare trees are uninspiring. It’s easier to lay in bed and watch The
Walking Dead. Mad Men. New Girl.
When I think I’m getting bed sores and I think I maybe
haven’t showered recently, I’ll try to create an environment conducive to
writing. I’ll crank the heat a little
more, so my fingers don’t feel too numb
to type. I’ll brew coffee. I’ll create a playlist.
Yes. A Winter Writing
Playlist. This is good.
1)
White Winter Hymnal, Fleet Foxes. The title says winter, so I figure this is a
good start. It sounds like the sunlight
sparkling off the snow. It’s got a good
rhythm. Ok, pour the coffee, bob the
head, this can work. Fingers: poised
over the keyboard…
Fleet Foxes Looking Inspired Like I'm Not |
2)
Fitzpleasure, Alt J. The song is a reference to the 1964 novel
Last Exit to Brooklyn. My mind was more
or less blown when I first realized this, and the title of the song took on a whole
new meaning. “Broom shaped
pleasure.” I should do something cool like that—plumb
history for some anecdote heavy with meaning and shamelessly take advantage of
it…
3)
When the Levee Breaks, Led Zeppelin. And then I’ll imagine Hunter Thompson
listening to this. Whether he ever did
or not.
4)
Wrecking Ball, Miley Cyrus. (As I was typing, I went Mylee. Delete delete delete. Mylie.) She makes her art, I make mine. We are just fellow artists, ya know? Working to bring light into this world.
5)
California Dreaming, The Mamas & The Papas. And I’ll go ahead and put this one in
twice. It deserves a re-listen. “California dreaming, on such a winter’s day!” Apt.
So apt. All I can think of now is
that scene from Chungking Express where the girl at the diner in the heart of
Hong Kong cranks this song on repeat so loud that you have to shout your orders
to her. She says that she plays her
music so loud so she doesn’t have to think.
She says someday she’ll go to California.
6)
Get It Get It, Girl Talk. The caffeine has hit me by now, and it and
the music is sending my brain into spastic twirls, and my fingers are zipping
across the keyboard and I believe I’m being more productive than I really
am. Spastic, frantic circles.
7)
Mmbop, Hanson.
Am I just tragically depressed by the sinking suspicion that everything
I just wrote is going nowhere and I have no desire to build on it? Whatever happened to Hanson? Geez, that hair was gross. I used to know a girl when I was a kid—she had
a voice like gravel, and she ate, breathed, functioned in one glorious dedication
of her life and being to Hanson.
Yes, this is a picture of Hanson on the BER blog. It's a thing. |
8)
Spring Love, McSomething. I play this because I have to get up,
stretch, get my blood moving. It
intimates saucy climates and twirly dresses.
I should join a Zumba class.
9)
Maps, Yeah Yeah Yeahs. WHO AM I?
DEAR GOD, WHAT IS MY LIFE. In
WHAT DIRECTION am I POISED? WHAT CLIFF
am I on the BRINK OF. (On what cliff am
I on the brink?)
10)
Eblouie Par La Nuit, Zaz. Ok, I am just procrastinating. Sit down.
Focus. A French song. I’m an ARTIST. I got this.
11)
Royals, Lorde.
I will never. Ever. Be a royal.
12)
He Trusted in God, Handel. YAHTZEE.
The song’s a wildcard to cleanse the palate. When I have kids, I’m going to make them
listen to this shit all the time.
Opera. They’re gonna be geniuses. I’ll name them Cora and Zane.
Handel: OOh la la |
…Ok, What have I written?
…I mean, it’s still rough, ya
know, needs some editing, some touching up so to speak. Yeah, there’re kernels here, I can milk a few pieces out of this. *Throat clear*
Ok, but that music was good, the
coffee was good, I am 96.2% likely to repeat this tomorrow. So step 1 DONE. (Establishment of an environment “conducive
to writing” that I want to return to.)
And maybe tomorrow, the writing
will be good too…
2 comments:
Your brilliance amazes me.
Hanson amazes me.
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