Monday, December 09, 2002

As an interesting side mental project du jour I've been trying to decide which song or recording artists best illustrate/soundtrack this day. Something frenetic with some quiet flourishes - perhaps a collaborative song featuring Bjork and Rob Zombie. A little diabolica, a tough spriteliness - jubilant schizophrenia.
A strange happenstance, happening at 845AM today.
I was reading the Middling City daily (mainly looking at the pix made by my boy colleagues) with an ice pack on my left shoulder after physical therapy and I was deep into a soccer mom's musings/editorial on Eminem.
More smarmy writing attempting to tug on my tarpit heart's heartstrings. It was not working.
This woman was stating Marshall I'll never call you Eminem, do your friends call you Eminem...
and on and on.
She dubbed him a brilliant wordsmith (that he is) and she was disagreeing with all the bandying of fucks etc in 8 Mile and in the lyrics she researched online when
*WHAM*
another physical therapy person, a member of the shoulder team (we failed shoulders know each other by the exercise routines we keep), hit the back of a chair next to me blustering, at me
Forget the poor, forget education Let's Go to WAR WITH IRAQ. That's what Bush wants.
I was looking at him for a moment before muttering, paper still in hands
Well, he's not MY president.
We were all, in that physical therapy capsule, deep in the suburbs where I assume the vibe is mallish, hawkish and righteous.
The chair thumping sales shoulderman type went away and then I was left to wonder
How in hell did he peg me as a member of Team Liberal?
Lack of appliqu├ęs on sweater? Lack of cheery disposition? Lack of layered haircut?
Now all I can think of is the image of Zombie and Bjork crowding together cheek to cheek to share a mic, the crowd is happy and I'm shooting underneth neither gelled blue nor red but a warm yellow and it's coming from two sides and the stage isn't too high and after the set me and my boy colleagues are invited to go backstage for some hospitality.
Onwards.
Back to multiple deadlines, attempted greatness, caffeine forays.

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