Music In My Ears

I'm currently listening to Death "For All the World to See". If you don't know who they are, they made this proto-punk album by three brothers and written by the oldest brother who rejected a major record deal and died in obscurity telling his brothers that people will one day come looking for the tapes of what they made in 1974. 1974, of course, if you know the history of punk music, was several years before the first person put a pin through their cheek and contemplated the artistic merit of heroin use knowing they were completely unique, what being punk is and, naturally, who sold out, ten years after Bob Dylan played with a band for the first time in a tour and at one show heard a fan yell, "Judas," from the crowd, and ninety years after an art collector said, "Yes, he cut off his ear and he died before anyone appreciated his work. Buy this piece now or you'll regret it. His art is going fast." If you have heard of Death, yes, all the facts that I've learned about them came from the documentary on Netflix because I'm authentic.


This week has been a sing-in-the-car week. The walls in our apartment are paper thin so I constantly feel the need to be quiet so it's nice to climb into my car and blast some music and sing as though there isn't a person next to me at a light looking over. It's been a Frank Turner, Bowie, and Elton John kind of week. I've been belting out "Jet Lag", "Rock & Roll Suicide", and "Border Song" with zero shame. Well, very little shame. Let's not get carried away here, I do sing quieter at lights and will take drives on the highway to avoid intersections.


A dude got super homophobic in my fantasy football's text message group and this was the same dude that dropped "nig" like it was nothing two years ago until I said something to which he responded with, "dude, it's not like I used the whole word," and, "everybody knows there are nigs and then there are regular black people. Don't be an ignorant Northerner." I had to point out that he's not Chris Rock and that he was still from Green Bay, Wisconsin so when he got homophobic it was again time to say something.

He was repeatedly insinuating that one of the guys in our group was sucking dicks so I insinuated that the accuracy of descriptions were a little too accurate, but the logical conclusion about him was okay. At what point does a guy's graphic descriptions and endless fixation with gay acts start to cause you to wonder if he needs to be accepted for who he is, I asked. He responded to that by asking me if I like to image the guy he was making fun of performing a sexual act with another man to which I then responded that I had more fun imagining him secretly singing Elton John songs while weeping.

At this point he was starting to wonder into being outmatched and said, "is that really the best you can do," which played right into my hand because I'm an expert on Elton John's hit songs. So, I said, "don't worry I won't let the sun go down on you." He then replied back explaining how heterosexual sex works so I responded with the fact that even if he and Susie were holding hands and skimming stones that doesn't mean much. Then other guys started chiming in. One said, don't let the sun go down on this conversation, and the other said, I can't feel the love tonight; and, that was that. If he'd pointed out that I had a conspicuous knowledge of Elton John, I'd say, "yes I do. I sing the crap out of those songs because even if I look gay, that doesn't actually matter at all." Of course, it does matter to me otherwise I wouldn't quiet down at lights. I have homophobic shame about singing but, at the very least, I know it's absurd. In either case, it's best to live out.