My friend recently had a baby. I only mention this because I think that is, perhaps, why she misses the way Livejournal used to be.
I suggested WordPress.
However, this phenomenon no doubt brings the quality of WordPress.com’s content down considerably.
Usually I use all the other ubiquitous social media to post YouTube videos and songs and macros and animated GIFs and political rhetoric.
I claimed at a few parties, for a lack of anything better to share, that I was a writer. This, however, is a bold-faced lie, because mainly I write about shit like this:
I was listening to my iPod on the way back from a disastrous family party (my uncle’s in-laws, so it wasn’t even my own family) at which I got sick, and the song “Where Does the Good Go?” by Tegan and Sara came on.
Now, I discovered this song back in 2008 on the MySpace profile of who I will henceforth call Luanne Moretti. Luanne was a girl whose boyfriend I stole.
The Mechanic and I fell
badly madly in love (Freudian slip, there) and she was, of course, heartbroken. I, of course, compared myself to her at every turn, convinced she was better than me and I had only bedded her soulmate through the means of dumb luck.
The song had negative connotations for many, many years, but that summer I downloaded it from iTunes just to listen to it a few times.
Years later, the song came on, and instead of just being about Luanne Moretti, I imagined, in my sick little brain, an animated music video of my sexual history.
The women singing the song became the men in my life, and the…what would be the word? A sort of drumming rhythm, especially towards the end, provokes a sort of spiraling journey through time and space, fragments of moments whipping past the singers standing in the middle, who have now become either me, or the musicians. I like to think it’s the musicians rather than me, because I have a big nose and none of the class. Also, I’m not so sure I’m the one singing.
I imagined, firstly, dancing. Traded from partner to partner on a whirling, old-fashioned dance floor, waltzing from affair to affair.
But in the tunnel of swirling colors and faded fragments of time around the singers at the climax of the song, are just snatches of memory. I wish I could pull out those images of history and stick them into a music video like a dream-fueled RPS fanvid.
If I could draw, I would animate it. That’s way too much effort for a daydream, however.
I can’t find a music video to that song by the girls, and only one shitty “Grey’s Anatomy” fanvid so compressed it’s blurry, with bad editing.
Ah nevermind, I found a performance.