dabhug: (bones cocky belt buckle)
And apparently, that's when we break out the David Allan Coe.
dabhug: (Default)
If only for The Asshole Song.

"Were you booooooorn an asshole"

That's gonna be stuck in my head ALL DAY,

Better than 99 Bottles of Beer, right?
dabhug: (Default)
My family dynamic leaves a lot to be desired.  For all pratical purposes, my grandparents raised me and for the first five years or so of my life, my mother's siblings were my siblings.  My aunt was thirteen when I was born.  She took to me and treated me like her little doll.  I remember being able to spend time with her in her room when she was getting ready for dates.  I remember taking a special set of pictures that was of just the two of us.  It was the 80s and feathered hair and Aquanet ruled.  Stevie Nicks was queen of the radio.  I remember singing along to Fleetwood Mac with the hairbrush in the mirror.  It was a special place, a special time, before things fell apart.  I felt special, I felt wanted.  There are pictures of us together, my aunt beautiful with her hair and her makeup just so and me, her little shadow.

I grew up and she moved away and had a kid of her own and now all we are are strangers,  But there was a time when I meant something to her.  And she meant something to me.
dabhug: (wildthing)
Good music is music that makes you feel something.  Genre doesn't matter, we can argue about what type the music is, but I won't ever argue about what's good.  I feel about music like I feel about books.  I don't care what you read, as long as you are reading.  I don't care what you listen to, as long as you are listening.  Feel something.

A song can take me back to a certain time, a certain place.  I can be driving to work on some random Tuesday, and the right song can come on the radio and all of a sudden, I'm sixteen and still cute and healthy and smart and in love with a boy, the future spread out in front of me, full of possibility.  I can be standing at the sink, washing dishes, and a song shuffles up on the mp3 player and I'm struck with grief, missing someone so bad I'd swear there was a hole in my heart.  There may be a million reasons why I've lost contact with someone who was once important, but the song remembers them.  The song remembers when.

One of my favorite things to do is to sit out on the patio at my chosen family's house, listening to "classic" music, talking about music's history, identifying artists and songs, introducing a new generation to the classics, and telling stories.  Music tells a story.  You decide which one.


May. 23rd, 2009 09:03 pm
dabhug: (Default)
So, we've been at this for NINE HOURS.  I think I saw Jesus.

Oh, wait.  It was Swedish-born supermodel Marcus Schenkenberg.

Must have caffeine!

This is MY dancespace, this is YOUR dancespace.
dabhug: (bff text)

We've resorted to disco to liven things up.  We're taking requests.  You're ON THE AIR!

Still no progress on the scrapbook.  I've got my paper picked out, though! Sometimes that's the hardest part!

July 2010

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