wombat_socho (wombat_socho) wrote,

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Would it be enough for your teenage lust? Would it help to ease your pain?

(Note: Originally written on the cold and damp afternoon of May 12, but not posted until the equally cold and damp morning of May 13 due to problems on LJ's end.)

I'd thought about doing my own version of Michele's Labor of Love and sticking it on my Geocities site, but after a lot of reflection, I've decided not to do it. A lot of the songs on my list are the kind of songs that dredge up fairly painful memories, and I'm just not the kind of person who wants to hang that much of himself out in public. Besides, as I learned the hard way on a couple of occasions, the important people in your life don't really want or need to know the whole truth sometimes. Sure, they might talk a big line about how truth is really important and you should always be honest about your feelings, but when you open up and show them exactly what kind of dark, yawning void you're brooding about they either recoil and give you shit about being a depressed/depressing person, or they run like hell. So, you keep some things to yourself, and everyone's happier that way.

Isn't that hypocritical, though? Isn't that lying? If it's lying, it's in a good cause. As for hypocrisy, Oscar Wilde did call it the tribute vice pays to virtue; me, I've never believed that complete honesty is a virtue. It would be hard to reconcile that with the way I've lived my life anyway. As the second-generation holder of a TS (Codeword) clearance, I knew from childhood that telling people everything was not always the right answer, much less the best answer, but I don't think it really sank in at the gut level until I was all grown up and married. My friends and family know me well enough and can tell what music moves me, even if they don't always know what's playing in my brain while the music is playing. For example, when I hear Soft Cell's "Tainted Love", well, that one's fairly benign. It reminds me of being on temporary duty in Berlin, 1982. I can't say that about James McMurtry's "Outskirts", which sets off an entirely different chain of memories.

That's as much as you get, though. Move along; nothing else to see here.
Tags: music
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.