Army of Me

This was me today.



The Flaggin' Wagon is in the shop, and my mechanic loaned me a Suburban that is bigger than my bedroom. I have to grab the steering wheel and haul myself up into the seat. As soon as I saw it, this video came to mind.

As the lyrics started on auto-play in my head, they seemed really timely. Earlier this week I observed someone I respect challenging another person to do something they were afraid of, and the next day I found myself doing the same for someone else. In both instances it was done with gentleness and love ("Would you consider doing this thing even though it scares you?") and not in the tough-love tone of the song ("Self-sufficiency, please, and get to work"). And in the case where I was doing the challenging, the other person got something they needed because they took that risk, and told me, "Thank you for pushing me."

I'm pretty sure I'd never actually say to someone, "You're on your own now/We won't save you/Your rescue squad/Is too exhausted," but the sentiment isn't too far off from where I've been this past week, and I appreciate the lessons I'm learning about letting go of the illusion of control, which is about fear, and learning to afford others the "dignity of risk" and the right to fail.

Pure

When I was a high school sophomore in rural Minnesota, I was often miserable. It's hard to be 16, you know? The best thing in the world back then, besides play practice (oh yeah, I was a nerd), was a radio show on the Duluth station late Sunday nights. It might have been called "The Edge," and it played only the edgiest alternative rock.

Lying in my bed, I'd record the show on my clock radio/tape deck so I could play it all week. In my basement bedroom, I first heard much of the music that I still love: songs by Siouxsie and the Banshees, Sugarcubes, Big Audio Dynamite, and the Lightning Seeds.

I've always thought of "Pure" as one of the world's perfect pop songs. That glorious synth hook (by OMD’s Andy McCluskey), sweet, mellow melody, and bubbly chorus epitomize my teenage hopes that someday life would be simpler, cleaner, "fresh and deep as oceans new."

This week a friend of mine gave me a tape, an original composition, that begins with "Pure" as part of an ambient background to some Casiotone notes. If you're wondering whether you can drone out to your nostalgic age-16 faves, the answer is yes. If you're wondering whether my life feels any more fresh and deep than it did in that 1992 basement, it certainly does. If you're wondering how old I am, I guess I gave that away already.

I'm Not the Man I Used to Be

I just read this review of a new memoir the other day, and I think it stands alone as a critique of the "cis gaze" and how the state regulates gender and sex. Several Facebook posters have called attention to this passage from the article:

So 'transition', 'sex change' or, to some extent, 'coming out' are cis fantasies. They are cis fantasies that obscure the processes by which cis people create their own genders. Whether cis or trans or gender non-conforming, gender is never static. Gender identity has no fixed end point: it is a lifetime of changing feelings, experiences and attitudes. If gender is a set of relationships – to ourselves, to others, to the boxes others put us in – then no adults are the same gender, really, as when they were born, and in ten years they will be different genders still.

To show us that even cis guys get the blues, today's song features a gorgeously pensive Roland Gift and a whole cast of hip hop dancers. For a song whose lyrics are arguably kind of depressing, the video to this 1989 single makes me really happy. Also, that catchy James Brown sample! Uuugghhh so good.




Oh, right. Also, happy "coming out" day. I want to live in a world where there is no need to "come out" because I am not assumed to be cis and straight until I state otherwise. But until the white cis-hetero patriarchy crumbles, I'll be singing this song (and occasionally this song).

Let's Go to Bed

Welcome to the new location and format of my "daily" check-ins with the internet. If you are familiar with 17aDay, you know that a day with me is like a thousand years, and a thousand years is like a day. So I post whenever the hell I want to, basically.

Today's entry is about how exhausted, overwhelmed, stressed, and cranky I have felt for the last week or so. I have decided I'm merely adjusting to the seasonal shift and shortening days of New England autumn, because that is easier than worrying that I am going to be permanently crotchety and tired. Probably only until May.

This 1982 single is 3-1/2 minutes, which, according to radio lore, is the average length of a pop/rock radio single. (3 min. 30 sec. is equal  to 0.00243056 days, whence comes the title of this project.) Also, according to the song's Wikipedia page, Boston alternative rock station WFNX played this as their first broadcast in 1983 and their last in 2012.

But I don't care if you don't
And I don't feel if you don't
And I don't want it if you don't
And I won't say it
If you won't say it first