St. Stephen in Normal entries

You know how you’re in an elevator or on hold with your CPA or something and the muzak philharmonic version of, say, muskrat love comes on, and you find yourself singing along and any progress you’d made towards repairing your damaged self esteem just up and shits and dies right there in the elevator or on the phone? Just saying, sometimes that aren’t even trying to kill you can fuck up your day with weakness.

The song below, sometime soon I reckon, isn’t like that, and no, I don’t mean it actually was trying to kill me. Don’t call me paranoid, everyone has been doing that, it’s like they held a meeting or something. I don’t dislike the song below, soon, I fucking swear, oh, wait, this’ll all come to you at the same time. Weird, right? I’m ambiguous. I think most muskrat love type moments (knowing all the lyrics to a wretched sound thing) originally had something to do with a chick, um, gilr, um, woman. Especially if you are one, you know what I mean. How weird is that? Guys use “It had to do with a chick (um, girl, um, womyn)” as a go-to excuse for stupid shit that didn’t kill them. Yet. Chicks have that as a built in excuse but they never use it.

The song below (wouldn’t it be fucked up if I can’t find it on youtube? That happened to me once, I know, fucking up a journal entry is hardly a life alterating event, but, shit, you know. I was looking up a Michelle shocked song only to find youtube had banned her shit years ago. I guess in some interview she said bad things about homosexuals, I mean as a group, not like “those guys over there, Joey, Rodney and Hair-do”. My first reaction was the same as many of the comments — What, Michelle Shocked is straight?” So I turned that entry into a thousand Cranes and married a shinto high priestess.)

Hmmm, lets try that in a new paragraph. The song below (refer to my trepidation in above parenthetical shit) is just one of those things I kind of know. I vaguely remember somebody giving me a copy of American Beauty and insist I listen to it despite my protests that I knew all about the Dead or as all about them as I felt moved too. I hadn’t heard the song below before that foggy and perhaps made up incident, which, if it isn’t true is even further proof of my ambiguity.

Shit, I was going somewhere, now I can’t remember where. Heres a song I don’t care much for one way or the other, but if I’m in an elevator or on hold with the parole office …