Monday, November 15, 2004

Air Supply's Greatest Hits

So I finally get out of the house to take a run--it's 11:51 PM. I'm about to play some punk rock or Slayer or something to get in the workin' out mood, and I decide to play "The Decline of British Sea Power" by British Sea Power. Fuck, that album is all-time, as Mike Lawyer would say.

The guitars on that record rock so hard, and yet, it's such a damned romantic album. It makes me want to make out; it makes me want to say stupid things; it makes me want to fall in love--and not many things do that nowadays.

I run about 20 blocks to maybe 27th Ave, and I decide, fuck it, I'm going to run to the beach. I've measured it out in a car before--it's 3.2 miles from my house to the beach, making about a 6 1/2 mile run. But I am down for anything--I've got the iPod full blast and I'm air guitaring and shit. And the damned thing craps out on me! Ain't that a bitch? Freezes at 38 seconds into "The Lonely":

"Since I find out that all of this
Is nothing more than emptiness
Filled with impermanence"

No iPod lasts forever. Actually, I looked up troubleshooting on the Apple site, and the "freezing up" thing doesn't seem too hard to fix, except that I left my firewire cables at work.

Anyhow, BSP makes me want to be madly in love, and have one of those madly in love slow fucks. Not a soft-focus, Hallmark card, sillhouetted lovers holding hands on the beach, Air Supply fuck, but one of those slow, intense fucks where it seems like you don't have enough skin, like you just want to touch everywhere at once and do the Vulcan mind meld at the same time. The transcendent power fuck.

Which reminds me of this time in high school. My friend Bret and I were in his beat down Scirroco listening to Iggy Pop, and this guy Tony Anselmi was in the back seat. We were all supposed to be in Journalism class, but Ms. Wilson didn't give much of a damn if we were there everyday, so we were out driving around. We were listening to "Instinct," which is a pretty mediocre Iggy album, but that song "Strong Girl" was on, which is a cool enough tune. Bret and I were saying that it'd be a great song to fuck to, and Tony chimes in: "You know what's the best album to fuck to?"

"No, what?"

"Air Supply's greatest hits."

Tony actually ran for Class Clown. You know, campaigned for it. Of course he didn't get it. There's more to being a clown than being clueless.

No comments: