Monthly Archives: November 2010

November 30, 2010 – Song 26

Dearest Ashleigh,

If I’m being uncompromisingly honest, in my simplest degree you were the person I wanted to see today the very most in the whole universe.

So I guess you do get what you ask for.

Welcome aboard the Pirate Ship.

Caution ye who enter: There is more than a chance that things will get weird.

And thanks for the socks.

Love,

your friend
Sarah

P.S. Song 26

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November 29, 2010 – Song 25

It’s hard to think about people that you don’t like in a nice way, but there is always something to find. Even if it’s something so super tiny it shouldn’t mean anything, it does.

Especially when you’d rather go in the corner with a pint glass of whiskey and show anyone that passes by what sharp teeth you have for a princess baby that is obviously right.

Here’s a fact you might not know about me. I have seen every single episode of Friends. Multiple times. Why? I don’t really know…it just sort of happened. First on prime time and then literally for years on rerun. And although I can’t say I have watched one single episode in the last couple of years I still think of these little moments occasionally and smile. What are you gonna do? It’s such a truth for me that to this day whenever I see the Friends Trivial Pursuit at the thrift store I am tempted to buy it just so I can get some use out of the fact that I will probably utter something like “Regina Falange” right before my death rattle and no one (except maybe Kate) will have any idea what I’m talking about.

And so here it goes:

The fact you called the TV show “My Funny Friends” instead of “Friends” was funny.

“Oh, what are you watching? My Funny Friends?”
“Can I delete some of these episodes of My Funny Friends from the Tivo?”

•••

It was a hard choice. I mean who doesn’t have at a little bit of a soft spot for U2’s “One”. Or is it really just too late tonight to drag the past out into the light? (On a random side note: when I was in elementary school some hooligans spray painted U2 all over my town and all these parents flipped out because they thought it was like some kind of Nazi code or something.) Anyway, it’s not like I was going to pick Hootie and the Blowfish dude. But there were other choices.

I just that I still think of this little scene at least once a month when I open the shower curtain. Song 25.

•••

[Scene: Chandler and Monica’s. Only Chandler is in the living room and walks to the bathroom.]
Chandler: Honey, you’ve been in there for a long time… Is everything okay?
Monica: Not really.
(Chandler enters the bathroom, and Monica is standing there in a towel, with her hair stuck in the shower curtain.)
Monica: I have a problem.
Chandler: Really? What happened?
Monica: Well, I was dancing around, and singing “No Woman No Cry” and I got stuck.
Chandler: You can’t move at all?
Monica: Oh, well, I can move… (she moves back and forth the shower curtain rail, opening and closing the shower curtain with her hair as she goes)
Chandler: If I untangle you, will you please get rid of the corn rows?
Monica: (looking disappointed) I guess so…
Chandler: (trying to untangle her) Some of these look a little frayed.
Monica: Yeah, I tried to gnaw myself free.

Sarah: That’s funny Monica. I was just doing the very same thing.

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November 28, 2010 – Song 24

As always. Surprise. Surprise. Surprise. Circle takes the square and back around again. I can’t seem to think one thing lately before something else hops up into my goddamned lap.

Yesterday I went to the Levi’s store. And if there is one thing about me you should know–besides the fact I love Fleetwood Mac, and besides the fact I am amazed by scale, and besides the fact I will cry no matter what the movie if one character says “I Love You” to another character, animal or even machine (or cartoon machine), and besides the fact I love coffee and have a real soft spot for Tequila, and besides the fact some part of me doesn’t really see the absurdity of Tom Petty and I living happily ever after or even besides the fact that I truly believe that I come from a blood lineage that can not thrive without eating red meat even though I have yet to meet a vegetable that I don’t like, even when I don’t know it’s proper name–it’s that this old girl lives her life in blue jeans.

And I am forever trying to make that as seamless as possible. For everyone involved. But it would seem that Levis is hell bent on fucking with me.

Every time I fall in love, they flip their script. Maybe that’s how you make money, and trust me I’d be the last to know, but who doesn’t love Coca Cola right? If it ain’t broke, stop crapping on it. Whenever I blow out the crotch of my number one favorite pair, and trust me that is not as exciting as it sounds, they are irreplaceable. The name or size now means nothing. They’ve changed the waist because that’s what women really want. They’ve already “worn” holes in them for you or kitten whiskered you all up in the crotch. Or my number one favorite, they have shortened the zipper just a smidge so now you can be guaranteed you’ll be showing off your London and possibly even your France if you do something so risque as sit on a barstool or god forbid tie your shoe. But, of course none of this is the point.

In the Levis store a couple of doors down from Reckless today I was doing my damnedest to replace my daily go to jeans. And a very nice lady was helping me sift through the piles when her coworker turned to her and said, “Oh my god I love this song. Do you know who it is?” And she didn’t. But I did. Do I interject? Do I even give a shit? I for one was still fuming over her explanation of the logical reason they had changed the name of all of their cuts for the second time in six months. But he wouldn’t quit. He’d obviously heard it before and sort of knew the words. I guess even the soundtrack of hipness loops back upon itself at some point.

So finally after he again stated that he really loved it, I gave in. “The band is called Wolf Parade* and this song from their most recent album. I actually work a couple of doors down at Reckless and we give anyone who works in the neighborhood a 10% discount. You should check it out, it’s a great record.”

And this is what old boy turned to me and said:

“Wolf Parade? Cool. I’m totally gonna download it.”

You’re welcome asshole.

But just don’t park in our spots.

That’s how Lens Crafters made the shit list.

And so it goes. Song 24. I’d say that I was all alone.

*This is exactly the kind of band name that fucks with your self preservation instincts. The words Wolf, Eagle, Crystal, Black or Skulls of any kind just scream dealbreaker. But I have been proven wrong before. It took me forever and maybe fate for me to give them a chance. In fact, I had no intention to whatsoever, but at Pitchfork I was blown away. I then hoped on my bike and rode to the United Center to be totally let down by my first ever Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers concert. Not because it was bad, but because I had gone from seeing this great band sweat it’s ass off in front of my face to sitting somewhere in like row G Five Trillion. I swore that night never again. Unless, I break the goddamned bank for Row One through maybe, depending on my own economic crisis, something in the Row low Teens. Thanks a lot Canada.

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November 27, 2010 – Song 23

While the Thanksgiving magic is still in the air, if even at this point only in turkey sandwich form, I wanted to take the opportunity to says thanks.

I have not really been writing for almost ten years. Sure, I have made the occasional stab in the dark, but I’ve never really fought long enough to stand in the morning light and see if I’ve killed anything. But that has been changing. I ha…ve been working with a new friend on something tentatively titled “The Greatest Rom Com Ever” and it is one of the highlights of my days. When we get together we have so much fun and laugh so fucking much it’s been a shock to look down each time and see that a little sculpture is making it’s way out of a slab of stone, even though I don’t remember doing anything that felt like work.

The other day, this friend delivered one of the best monologues I have ever heard. It was about new friends and how it is still a form of falling in love. And how at first you are so excited to just to meet this person that everything about them seems magical. But that fades. They are not perfect, they are just a person. And this is where you either fall in love or you don’t. Maybe I am thinking about it because I’ve been remembering lately why my oldest friends are my oldest friends, but I am increasingly thankful for my new ones.

I wanted to do this song a day thing to make a mark on a year of my life so that I will never be able to forget.

That’s probably the real reason I have tattoos. Because I do forget. That is unless it goes down on my permanent record.

Maybe you spent your Thanksgiving either knee deep in baby shit, baby puke or in a handmade princess skirt. Maybe you found a kindred soul in an unmasked Miss Stephanie at the bar one night while simply riding the wave. Or you have found peace spending your summers teaching Cannonball 101. Maybe you struck a Guantanamo Bay pose behind one of the funniest things you’ve ever seen in a ski lodge hot tub. Maybe you actually are the Cheese Whiz. Maybe you will always wonder if there really is something going on between your husband and Louie Anderson. Maybe you have come into your own as a Zen master while manhandling all those muscles into place. Or maybe you lost all your fucking clothes and still found a way to keep those eyes on the comedy gold. Or maybe, just maybe, the sound of your own death rattle has made you remember why you should be writing too. It’s either that or the salami really has gone bad.

However it happened I’m glad to have found you here. Even if it is just a coincidence.

I for one, I was just hanging out man, trying to watch The Soup.

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November 26, 2010 – Song 22b

The original song 22, now song 22b.

Come visit me tomorrow.

If you know me you should be able to guess where I’ll be.

C’est la vie.

Also, these dudes are cool as hell. I don’t care what you think.

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November 26, 2010 – Song 22a

Sometimes doing this feels so Doogie Howser, MD it blows my mind. Like someone has cast me to narrate my life’s story for dramatic effect or at least to clue the audience in to how the main character thinks because they couldn’t come up with a classier way to just simply show it.

However, yet once again, I have learned something this evening I didn’t expect to. So of course I am compelled to write. Write and write and write. No matter how ungodly the hour is now or how near the one I have to do things in is. And also, yet again, for the second night in a row, I have to make peace with the fact that the Rainbo is my Cheers and that shit just truly does run DEEP.

So anyway, I already I had tomorrow’s song planned out, but was thwarted by this evening’s events. And yet again, I am compelled to post more than one song. It is a cosmic burn, but if I had one rule, it was to follow follow follow, so here I go. I spent tonight, after the family time and after the friends time, at the bar bookended by dudes. One of which is one of my oldest friends free and clear. And another of which is also an old friend, but I realized tonight is one by association. That is a ladylike way of saying that I was friends with his previous girlfriend first. But I can not deny that he is also my actual friend now. And without getting into details, that’s the thing.

It’s the Chicago Stew. It is what it is. Chicago is a large city, the third largest I think? But us bohemians are just downright intertwined. It’s hard sometimes. Like in someway we actually live in the smallest of towns. And it has its ups and it has its downs. For example, it’s hard to date someone who hasn’t already been a somebody to someone that you fucking KNOW. Or that I will run into your ass with my new other ass. I will see you and you will see me. And love it or leave it, it’s a scenario that makes you face the facts or face yourself much, much faster, because, these webs run deep. I have heard many opinions about this phenomenon both pro and con.

Sometimes, people just straight up move to escape it. And I wholly understand that vibe. But for whatever the reasoning, some of us just roll. Yes, I will see you. Yes, I will see you with your new me. And yes somehow, as insane as it seems, we will one day again have peace. It’s weird, do not get me wrong, but I’m starting to think sometimes the longer you stew in one place, the faster you move on. Also, it’s fucking freezing here one half of the year. Put them shits in a pot together and you’ve got comedy gold spilling out a l l o v e r the place.

Song 22a. Goddamnit, this is the second night in a row.

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November 25, 2010 – Song 21c

THANKSGIVING TRIFECTA – PART THREE

Dear Mr. Kurt Niesman,

As I write this I can still not wrap my head around this evening’s events. I had my coat on and was halfway, if not more, out the door. It is impossible for me to conceive that you purposefully forced me into a corner with no other option but to create a three part Thanksgiving Trifecta, something absolutely unheard of until this very day. Are you unaware that this fine God fearing country of America is on the verge of utter meltdown and the State of Illinois is weathering not only that unspeakable turmoil but is in the grips of a wealth of worries of it’s own? I guess I was the one mistaken: I thought we were friends. At this point, after much reflection, I see no other reasonable explanation at this juncture other than you are one hundred percent aware of the fact that I have just downright liked your style since I first set eyes on your face and assume that you are intentionally, if not actually, trying to kill me.

I would like you to know, and for me to be the one to shout it from the rooftops, or at least from the kitchen where I now sit, that I have solemnly sworn to no longer find you at all adorable and/or in the least bit charming as hell.

I sit now, a woman defeated, Googling the hell out of George Michael.

Song 21c.

He’s not even an American for Chris-sakes, let alone even a neighboring Canadian. Or a child. Shame, shame on you. And I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

Sincerely your “friend”

Sarah

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