music is life

Saturday, May 30, 2020

As the bombshells of my daily fears explode…

it’s hard to write an AU when everything in canon is basically an AU

A couple of weeks ago, the Indigo Girls performed Rites of Passage in it’s entirely.

OMMFG

That album.

That motherfucking album.

R.E.M. might be the soundtrack of my life, but that album?

That album was my life for several years.

It was so weird to sit and listen to it performed live.

All those memories.

Fuck, man, the 1992 version of me was so fucking young. So fucking raw. So fucking hurt and angry.

And there’s not enough room in this world for my pain.
Signals cross, and love gets lost…

Forget about your ego.
Forget about your pride.
And you will never have to compromise

I left my anger in a river running Highway 5.
New Hampshire, Vermont, bordered by college farms, hubcaps, and falling rocks.
Voices in the woods and the mountaintops.

I’m not ready for the dead to show it’s face…

It’s so weird - that’s the year my mother died, that year was nothing but shitty experience after shitty experience - but this fucking album.

It’s still one of my favourites.

Which is odd considering my relationship with Bowie is much the same as my relationship with this album in it’s own kind of way.

 

Posted by Matty on 05/30 at 06:33 PM
completely randommusic is lifePermalink

Saturday, March 28, 2020

Run, Magic, Run!

Racery. In a nutshell

It’s time for Battle of the Fandoms IV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(The battlecasts are the best part, tbh. Where else can you get quality commentary and awesome Facebook translations?)

This time I’m on Run Magic Run. (Reads completely different with the commas, doesn’t it? English is amazing.) It’s a Labyrinth themed team. My other choice was Hamilton (Talk Less, Run More), but at the last minute decided to give up my place on the team to someone else.

I think I’ve talked about my love-hate relationship with Bowie before, but here, around the the 28th anniversary of my mother’s death and the accompanying reminder of the restraining order from my aunt, it might be time for a retelling…

If any of her family is reading this, well, I can promise you that you don’t know the whole truth about your sainted godmother or mother. I could bitch about my aunt all day, but I only want to talk about Bowie. (And maybe his enormous goblin.)

Where do I start?

My aunt was always there for me when I was growing up. Her house was an oasis, a place of safety in the maelstrom that was life with my mother. It was, honestly, my favourite place to be.

She had three kids, a boy and two girls. The boy, forever in my heart as Inky, is also forever four years old. In a weird quirk of life, I am 7 years older than the middle child and 14 years older than the youngest. Middle child and I, I thought, always got along pretty well. In some ways, she was more like a younger sister than a cousin.

But I digress.

Home. Safety. There for me. All things that were important when I was growing up. All things I was desperately in need of, despite my father’s best efforts to provide them at our house.

There was always music at her house. ALWAYS.

I grew up with Bowie, the Stones, Mott the Hoople, Led Zeppelin, all the great classic rock. Then, hair metal joined the never ending rotation and I developed a love for Poison, Def Leppard, and strangely, Adam Ant. (I might be one of the few people in the world who knew all the lyrics to his albums.)

But Bowie and Mick Jagger… those were her men. They were almost always on repeat when the radio wasn’t on.

As much as I loved the Stones, it was Bowie that I really connected with.

Maybe it was his shifting personas. Maybe it was the two coloured eyes (which aren’t actually two different colours, by the way). Whatever it was, when I was at home, I devoured everything I could get my hands on. Let me remind you, back in the 80s and 90s it wasn’t nearly as easy as it is now. I had to save my allowance, get a ride to a record store, find something I didn’t already own. Now, if I’m craving a particular song, I drop two bucks, get points on my credit card, and move on with my life.

My parents were officially divorced, I think on March 13th, and then my mother died on March 18th. My aunt got something like 90 percent of the estate… none of which my mother rightfully had any claim to since she never worked. (That comment the other day about leaving nothing in death is an actual line in her will and I read it in a fucking book someone gave me. Fuck public records.That book was supposed to bring me peace after my father died and I ended up ripping it in pieces and setting it on fire. I also hired a lawyer to send a strongly worded letter, but that’s another story.)

My father had to take my aunt to court for a share of the estate - CT state law said that as a minor I was due a portion - and I got $2K. Nothing compared to the thousands she walked away with. I found out later that she also managed to get the other 10% from the other person named in the will…

And then there was the restraining order.

Have you ever been served?

It is a fucking amazing experience.

I highly recommend it.

As her story goes, she was being overwhelmed with the amount of mail my father was sending to her and she asked her attorney to ask my dad if he would send that stuff directly to the lawyer handling the estate. The lawyer “misunderstood” and well… the rest is history.

She also forgot my birthday that year.

I always made the excuse that it was because my mother’s wake was on the 20th and her funeral the 21st, but FUCK, WOMAN. It would have taken two seconds to wish me a happy birthday. (Then again, five years after my uncle’s death, the grave stone still wasn’t engraved with his information. FIVE YEARS.)

Then there was the time when she blamed Youngest Cousin for playing with the answering machine and deleting all the messages I would leave.

In the end, I don’t know who walked away from who first, but the relationship between us was over.

I mourned it for a long time and I broke up with Bowie. It was too painful to listen to him.

Even today, twenty-ish years later, it’s rare that I listen to his music. I generally do when I’m sad and need to cry. All the pain and confusion of 1992 - today, really, comes pouring out. There are few things that can create a spontaneous crying fit, but I always reach for Bowie at those times.

I rarely play Bowie when I’m happy.

I never forgive and I never forget. Not sure if that’s learned behaviour (thanks, mom!) or just hardwired in my DNA, but I don’t.

Especially when someone fucks me over.

So… what does this have to do with Racery? Why would I pick a movie that heavily features Bowie (and his enormous goblin)?

Because, simply, running when I hate the fucking world is the quickest way to calm me down and make sure that I don’t go manic. Anger is my default mode during mania - and being pissed is normally the way to trigger a visit to that other side of the equation. Mania makes me do and say things I should regret, but since I have no filter even when I’m stable, I normally just shrug it off. Whatever I wouldn’t say to your face (because manners), I’ll happily do when I’m manic.

Rage running. It’s a thing.

With all my IRL races cancelled or postponed, I’ve been slacking. This might be the thing I need to get motivated again.

Thank you, aunt.

I know you come for the scathing commentary on my life and openness about the bipolar, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t include the long awaited commentary on Bowie’s massive goblin.

But first…

OK. On to the scholarly commentary…

Critical analysis of David Bowie’s crotch bulge

Who Is Jareth In Labyrinth (1986) and Why Has He Got a Bulging Penis?

The Dick Debate: “Labyrinth” Edition

And, last but not least:

Crotch Magic - Tribute to David Bowie’s bulge in Labyrinth (link in case video breaks - bonus points for use of the words wang and dong.)

Posted by Matty on 03/28 at 10:55 AM
bipolarcompletely randommusic is liferunningPermalink

Sunday, February 10, 2019

I want to roll around the darkness, til the darkness goes away

matt nathanson :: the beacham, orlando :: 09.02.2019

Since moving to Florida, I’ve been missing out on one of my favourite things - music therapy.

It was so much easier to get in the car and drive the four hours to Albany every couple of weeks when I needed my fix. I definitely don’t have that here… not even working at the arena could cure my need for live music. Mostly, because I couldn’t connect to the music. I saw three concerts the entire time I worked at the arena… and bands that can fill an arena generally aren’t my thing any more.

Give me the bands no one’s ever heard of. Give me the bands that aren’t on the radio twenty-four-seven-three-sixty-five.

Enter Matt. We’ve seen him twice in the past year, once in Pompano and yesterday in Orlando. He’s definitely a one-hit wonder, but his live shows are something else. When he’s allowed to truly be himself on stage, it’s amazing. Last night was definitely no exception.

We paid for the meet and greet, which is something I normally don’t do, but it was worth it for the three extra songs we got from the soundcheck.

He also brought his song wheel. Motherfucker, did that make the night even better. Spinning and hoping that it landed on something he actually wanted to play - it was the best mix of drama and comedy. (“The wheel is like democracy - you get what you don’t want”). The wheel fucked him so bad at one point, that he moved the wheel to the song he actually wanted to play. (“You drink the beer, the beer doesn’t drink you.”

Other bits that I made note of:

Nobody can fuck up a song like Matt Nathanson.

We’re hear to see Mike Nickerson.

No one wants to hear an angry folk guy do metal.

And I can’t forget his story about the hippie chick that LICKED HIS ELBOW. (I suppose, in her defence, she DID ask him to bed, and she DID ask him if he wanted to try something…) The best part of that entire story was when he looked at the fourteen year old girl standing at the barrier and told her to close her fucking ears. He loves making a big deal out of kids in the audience, and then he forgets they’re there and it can get pretty raunchy.

He also told the story about how his daughter has an entire pintrest board dedicated to him, and also how she busts out bits from “Run”. I cannot imagine hearing an eight year old sing “I wanna watch you undress”...

I’m still kind of reeling from the events of late November / December / early January and waiting for the other shoe to drop and last night was EXACTLY what I needed. Plus, we squeezed in a couple of hours at Universal, and we all know how much I love hanging out in Diagon Alley.

Gavin DeGraw is at Universal next weekend as part of Mardi Gras and I am so very very tempted to go back for for the day. Even though I’m not a huge fan, I like him enough to attend a free concert. I can’t afford another overnight, but the concerts get out early enough that the drive home shouldn’t kill me.

I mean, it is only a three hour drive…

Posted by Matty on 02/10 at 03:56 PM
#threewordscompletely randommusic is lifeTravelPermalink

Monday, March 20, 2017

Forty two

OE at MSG - 03.04.17 :: easily the best concert i’ve ever been to. ever.

Today’s my Hitchhiker’s Birthday… it’s been kind of meh, to be honest.

Saturday was the 25th anniversary of my mother’s death and I decided to go to CT. I ran in almost knee-deep snow (in sneakers!) to her grave and spent 20 minutes spewing every negative thought I’ve had during the course of those 25 years. Yeah, it was fucked up, but it was SO freeing.

After that, I stood at the side of the road and read a blog entry to my grandparents. It was the blog entry I wrote about our trip to Lviv. My pronunciation sucked, but the thought was there.

Totally random - next to my usual parking spot, they were preparing for a burial. It was a woman I’d grown up with, a close friend of my grandparents. Wasn’t ready for that.

Another totally random thing - my uncle’s been dead for FIVE YEARS and the stone hasn’t been updated yet. FIVE FUCKING YEARS. WHAT THE FUCK IS MY AUNT DOING?!?!!?!?

Once I got my fill of hanging out with dead people, I went to my little brother’s house for a birthday lunch. It was a good time. We went for a walk and shared some deep things that we both needed to unload. I don’t want to go another six months before I see him again… I’m not sure I can go another six months without seeing him again.

Then, I went to a BMS show in Cambridge. So nice for there to be a show only an hour from home. Their drummer’s been problematic since he started and this show was particularly horrid.  It wasn’t helped by the fact that the old drummer was there. He was singing because one of the other members had laryngitis and it did not go over well when he pointed out that the drummer was too loud or too fast.

It was a nice break from the shitshow that my life is. I’m working through a lot of things right now and I’m not sure what’s being exacerbated by the bipolar and what’s just really fucked up. It’s harder to make decisions when everything is murky. Either way, I knew which decisions need to be made and I know what my decision is… I just don’t have the balls to pull the trigger and walk away from a situation I might be reading wrong.

So. Yeah.

Я не здамся без бою.—> The story of my life right now. *sigh*

Posted by Matty on 03/20 at 09:09 PM
#threewordsbipolarcompletely randomFriendsmusic is lifepolyglot in trainingTravelPermalink

Sunday, May 29, 2016

March 4, 2017…






Стіна, Для тебе, і Мить

Gearing up for a concert that I don’t yet have tickets for… but I have THREE alarms set on my phone so I don’t miss the presale.

That’s not obsessive, is it?

Posted by Matty on 05/29 at 02:30 PM
#threewordscompletely randommusic is lifepolyglot in trainingPermalink
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