Janes Addiction ~ Ted, Just Admit It
(written: 27 March 2004)
I think we may be getting a little too specific with our memories on this here thang. But, I suppose that was why I conjured this whole idea; to try and evoke memories that are long forgotten, or at the very least, dormant.
Regardless, the whole thing is getting a little 'mixed-tape' for me.
With that in mind, I am deciding to choose a song that is completely random to me... I mean, still chock (chalk?) full of memories, and emotions and experiences... but nothing I can lament over, you know?
I'll write this entry in my classic 'Polaroid' style, which is not mine at all; rather something I think I skeefed from Douglas Coupland, or someone with more to say than me.
It's LIVE, baby! Raw & unrehearsed...
This song may be remembered best as the soundtrack to Juliette Lewis fucking Balthazar Getty's career into Hollywood oblivion in Natural Born Killers.
And, alas, that movie was one that seemed to play a role in my desensitization to violence and Oliver Stone. Nothing would beat watching that film in the basement with impressionable peers, a long forgotten flavour of Dorito, and a naive confidence that we own3d the world.
But in the shadow of this carefully staged photo comes many things I could talk about... and I'll just reach into pond upon lake of submerged memory banks, and see what comes out. The nostalgic equivalent of a boot? A prize muskie? Ogopogo? We shall see.
Polaroid: Chicken fingers. A food item which has been made into the feast of white trash thanks to 'Trailer Park Boys'. Well, coming from small town Ontario, I am one part, err, someone who can empathize with white trash, empathize with 'folk' who can appreciate the simple things in life minus a single existential thought.
We took chicken fingers everywhere in our spare time. From the judge's tower on the raceway grounds, to back home in our basements where we smoked and watched porno like every other group of teen males on the continent.
I have brought my love of chicken fingers with me to the 'real world'; in a restaurant, when I cannot decide what I want to eat, or if the general layout of the menu just irritates me, I will order chicken fingers, or their nearest equivalent.
Polaroid: From white trash, I move on to the opposite extreme; the too-good-for-this-town elitist swine. I'm lucky to have friends who still love this town, as well as friends who will avoid it at all cost. I hate those aspects in both. It's just a town, and you grew up here. You should not be ashamed of it, for one. For another, you should never not try and leave it.
I began to avoid the smoking and porn in the basements thing in OAC, because there was a group of fine and dandy ladies and gents in the drama club who shunned that kind of dreadful behaviour for any purpose that was not ironic.
I exagerrate, but my social life in OAC was not too far off from an episode of Frasier.
Umm, anyway, I digress here, but the crux of this polaroid is me raping an American flag in an exam monologue; the most 'balls out' performance I will ever make in front of an audience, maybe. (Unless that video I did with... errr... gets out... *shudder*)
It was outrageous. Even the drama class' resident poseur said she enjoyed it. Not because it was good. But because it was 'me doing... that... to a flag'.
Polaroid: Don't shake me. Don't shake me like a Polaroid picture.
Polaroid: March Break '99. I don't know how this relates... it just does. I totally hot-shotted a romance back then, and ended up at the walk-in clinic with some sort of testicular infection.
She was likely the 'hottest' girl I ever dated. We met at DECA, trying to fake a business sense. In the end, we just faked a relationship for a few weeks. She essentially broke it off after giving me a tarot reading, and predicting DOOM. Also, she covered her rice in enough soy sauce to make it blacker than my feces New Years Day.
Polaroid: A game of Risk, and the McDonalds book of Demonology nerding up our summers...
I can't go on. I'm too drunk. Drunk on the bittersweet juices of nostalgia. And gin.
This entry brings the fluff. Now take it, and spread it all over your washboard abs or cupcake asses.
photo by kam