Friday, November 23, 2007

Random, Useless Discourse 25: Playlist Your Life, M’Fer! Part 2: Red-n-Blue Tuinals, Lipstick Red Seconals

(also posted: 11/23/07:

In case you don’t know me very well, first off, hey, how’s it going? Good. Good. Excellent. Glad to hear it. I’m well. Thanks for asking. Hope you had a happy Thanksgiving.

Oh, and before we get too far in, I’m a self-analyzing non-medicated freak. If you are still reading, well then, allow me to lay out the mat, and usher you into this lunatic parade (thank you, Scissor Sisters).

I’ve blogged about playlists before (myspace: 11/29/06 post: RUD #9 – Playlist your Life, M’Fers!) and music at other various times (myspace: 4/7/07 post: RUD #18 –If Justin hadn’t brought sexy back, would we know it was missing?). So none of this should come as a surprise.

I love making playlist. Few things are more satisfying. Straight-into-the-vein junk. G-sweet, candied self-pleasuring. Look at me world! I’m so awesomely eclectic. I’m soooooo fucking cool. - The act is on par with blogging. Combine the two and you have all the self-pity of a Dickens orphan. Fingerless gloves, muffler a-wrapped, rags on your feet, asking for more. Please, sir, validate me.

Playlisting, like most public acts, are little more than expressions of the person you want to be. The person you see when you look in the mirror, eyes closed. They aren’t entirely honest, and by that, they are always false. Playlist are smart, referential-tartans to cover our less-pleasant naked underside.

I don’t lie on my playlist. Every song on there is among my favorites. I truly, truly do love Lou Reed (“Transformer” – go download it NOW… I’ll wait) and I truly, truly do love the Judds. But I must admit, the fact I have both “Heroin” and “Grandpa, Tell Me About The Good Old Days” on my current myspace playlist, makes me feel good about myself. Makes me feel clever. And, I’ll tell you Susanna and only you, Kristy really loves to feel clever. Kristy needs to feel clever. – Yeah, I know I’m referring to myself in the third person. I’m an egotist. Classic with self-destruction tendencies (myspace: 9/30/06 –RU#6 – Destruction for the sake of reconstruction: Pleasuring the masses) and narcissism (see people’s exhibit A: my myspace). I’m working on it.

But c’mon, dude! Show me some love! I put David Bowie’s cover of Pixie’s “Cactus” over the Pixie’s own version. That sooo deserves like a 5minute make-out session, right? Tongue optional. I also tossed in “Where is my Mind” and “Hey” to get your Pixie fix. I resisted adding the Stooges because, you know, that would have looked desperate. Actually, the shark would have been catapulted over if I had included Boontown Rats or New York Dolls.

See? I know how to play the game. This cock knows how to work the walk. I got all my bases covered. I got not one but TWO Elvi (mmmmm ‘Elvi’). I got Beasties. I got your Arcade Fire, right here, gummy-gumdrop. I’m the pusher and the crack I’m selling is my fine cut Tennessee-Kristy.

So please, check out my mysp playlist ( See how cool I am. How cool I want you to think I am.

If you don’t have the time, that’s okay. You read this blog and that’ll stroke me through. But do both, and I’m shuttering to the floor, grinned and sated. And wouldn’t THAT make YOU feel good? Cool and clever, that’s you, rockstar-bitch.

1 comment:

Charlie said...

This is one of those useless smiles.