She grew up tall and she grew up right

I would like to submit that it is impossible to have been in high school in Indiana in the 1990s and not be a huge Tom Petty fan.  Absolutely, utterly impossible.

Reports are confused; he may still be with us and he may be gone.  All I know is I drove home tonight blasting this song, and then Wildflowers, at top volume, and I had to stop singing along partway through the chorus because I was crying.

 

Mi dinero es su dinero

An insight into my personality:  if I happen to pop open the iTunes store, mostly because I’m curious as to whether a new episode of The Orville is available or not (the first one performed well above expectations, don’t @ me) and I happen to see this:

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…and, upon investigating further, I discover that Prophets of Rage is the self-titled debut album of a group composed of Chuck D from Public Enemy, B-Real from Cypress Hill, and the motherfucking entirety of Rage Against the Machine, I will enter a fugue state, as follows:

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…and upon recovering from said fugue state I will discover that I have bought not one but two albums on iTunes, with no conscious decision-making process of any kind evident at all– that I somehow managed to not only download the debut full-length album which launched this week but also the EP (which I also didn’t know existed) which came out last year sometime, but I won’t even remember looking for it– my money will just be gone and I will have new music on my various music-producing devices.

I will listen to them during my various trips back and forth to work this week, and I may or may not report back with a review.  But yeah.  That combination?  Shortcuts every mental defense I have against spending money and the shit just happens automatically.


Speaking of spending money: my new book, Tales: The Benevolence Archives, Vol. 3 is now available for pre-order on Amazon!  It’s just $2.99 and I think you should buy it right now so that I can afford more music.

A good indicator of my current mental state

I listened to “Fuck Dying” by Ice Cube four times on the way home from work tonight.  This is actually a good thing and indicates a certain amount of nah, world, you can’t touch me tonight.  

It’s been a week of short-ass posts, I know, but there’s a lot going on tomorrow, assuming I’m able to keep my momentum up.

In the meantime, and not for the first time:

On things I’ve learned recently

Fipurplerain.jpgrst things first: from the “there should be a German word for this” category, I would like to know the German word for the moment when you discover a giant hole in the crotch of your pants at the beginning of an 11-hour work shift and realize that the moment before you discovered that hole was as good as the day was going to get.  There’s a German word for everything, so there’s got to be one.


Brief review of the new bed: I love the fuck out of it.  I would have preferred, however, that we not have a neighborhood-wide power outage the first day we own our new adjustable bed, although I suppose the setting we had it at when the power went out represented some sort of compromise between the universe and ourselves, since it was technically supposed to be a sleeping position and not, say, the “make your bed into a reclining chair” position.  I have since discovered that there is a place on the bed where batteries can be inserted to avoid precisely that scenario but at the time it was a problem.  But I’m sleeping better– way better, in fact– and that’s what counts.


I’m a Prince fan, right?  I have been for a long time– in fact, Purple Rain was one of the first two pieces of music I ever paid for, on cassette, who knows how long ago.  I was trying to hunt down video that didn’t suck of Lenny Kravitz’ tribute to Prince at the 2017  Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony, and finally found some that did suck, and for some reason decided to Google the lyrics to When Doves Cry.

Guys, I’ve been singing the wrong words to When Doves Cry for basically my entire fucking life.

I mean, in my defense, I probably decided I knew the words before I was ten, and maybe I’m just like my mother/ she’s never sad inside and maybe you’re just like my mother/ she’s never satisfied aren’t that far apart, but that wasn’t the only bit I was getting wrong, right?  And it’s like… damn, I’ve heard this song probably once a week for my entire fucking life and I’ve managed to screw it up every single time.  What the hell else have I been doing wrong for my entire life and never realized it until now?

Feel free to share examples of similar idiocy in the comments if you like.