baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Long and Winding Off The Cuff Entry Written While Looking Out for Girl Unit's Headlights On The Driveway I was born-again once. In a Jesus kind of way. But, at some point along the path to sprititual enlightenment, I found that I had a strong aversion to preachers. Not neccesarily the ones you see on TV. Them too. But, mostly, all the other folks that came along with the spiritual territory. I fucking hate preachy. Can't stand it. Trouble is now I'm finding out that preachy isn't limited to matters of religion. Preachy is everywhere. Street corners, radios, web-pages... Everyone is a preacher in some form. Including me. Which leaves me in a precarious state. You can't go around just hating everything. Well-I guess you could live life like a misanthrope-but that wouldn't be very cool. Sometimes, when someone I know comes close to crossing the line of sensible conversation and begins to enter preachville, I imagine a set of the best damn headphones anyone could buy around my head. I turn up some imaginary song until I'm safe from the preach. Their lips move-but all that comes out are melodies. It's like a scene out of Ally McBeal. Only I'm not even a quarter as skinny or as cute as Calista. ________________________________________ I'm locking myself in the recording studio this weekend. Hopefully, in 48 or so hours, I'll create something worthwhile. We'll see. Worthwhile is difficult. Mediocre is easy. And, as Girl-unit will agree to-being difficult comes easy to me. _________________________________________ The lovely Linda Eder is serenading me right now. Her voice does wonders for my mood. She hits all the right notes--all without being preachy. Have I mentioned that I hate preachy? _________________________________________ I've stopped writing lyrics-much to the consternation of our promoter/manager. There are melodies that simply defy lyrics. Off course, this means I have to deal with the whole *pop songs need to have lyrics for people to like 'em* argument. I can't stand this argument. It's so fucking preachy (have I mentioned I hate preachy?). Sometimes, the notes are enough. Words limit the meaning of the melody; trapping it in the literal-refusing to let it go where it wants to go-limiting it to the dictionary. _________________________________________ At our last show, the first few notes of a song I wrote brought a few cheers from the audience. Some even sang along with the chorus. It was a wonderful moment-one that rarely occurs-but occurs nonetheless. And it's funny how nobody really knows the true inspiration for the lyrics. People have asked-and I usually offer some vague answer. It's a simple song-five chords. But, ya know what? The lyrics are kinda, well, preachy. Damn. I hate being a hypocrite. Keep this up and I just may piss myself off. _________________________________________ Today, I apologized to my boss for being an asshole yesterday. She looked at me, smiled, and said *what about the time all the other times you were an asshole?* I wasn't apologizing for those, damnit. Just yesterday. I'm glad I love my boss. I would have been fired by now if I didn't. _________________________________________ Sometimes, I have so much to say, and write, that my fingers can't find the right keys to press. And all that comes out is gibberish-stuff like, well, this entry. It's hard writing while looking out the window for familiar headlights ya know? 9:37 p.m. - 2001-04-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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