Product of a 4 day bender

January 3, 2005

I got new headphones today. My Sennheiser HD500’s broke and I got Grado SR-60’s.

I bet that means so much to everyone. Somewhere in China right now, there is a small village rejoicing over the fact that I got my new headphones. Fireworks are gracing the sky, and the people are singing songs in their native tongue.

My headphones sound good. Not so bassy as the Sennheisers, but nice. Everything is clear and crisp and they look really lame. They have a leather headband and these bars that go over each earpad that stick up like antennae. I think it’s just to let the headphones swivel, but it doesn’t matter. They look like they’re from the 70’s, and I like them.

I listened to Elliott Smith, my favorite singer or songwriter or artist, whatever you want to call him, and then I listened to Blind Melon (who I truly learned about courtesy of that loser Michael from Auburn). They were the first to grace my new headphones, and damn it, that’s an honor. That’s like being the lady who breaks the bottle of champagne on the bow of the ship. It’s like being the flag bearer in a company or something. It’s me showing respect in my own misguided way. Shannon Hoon and Elliott Smith won’t know I listened to them with my new headphones. They won’t know I sat there drinking beer on my front porch, with my headphones just out of the box, smelling of factory plastics, but it doesn’t matter. It’s the principle.

I played Frank Black too, and I think my plan here was to write about one of his songs all along. I obviously haven’t done a very good job. My favorite song of his, currently, is The Swimmer. It’s probably about Elian Gonzales or something stupid, but when I first heard it, it meant something different to me. It was about ME. I’d put on my swimming trunks and swim away from Florida. I’d swim as far as I could from shore and just keep going. Maybe someone would see me and they’d bring out a crew to try and rescue me, but I’d just keep swimming. They’d be too late. I’d keep swimming until I’d sunk to the bottom with the tritons and the “ballyhoos,” and god damn it, I’d die well. Few could top that shit.

I don’t know if anyone else feels that way about certain songs… Some times it seems like you can relate to it so well that you feel like you wrote it, you know? If you could say what’s on your mind at that very moment, that song would be it, and you wonder how you could connect so well with someone you’ve never even met. I think that’s amazing.

That’s the power of art, I guess. I’m done rambling. Keep partying, China.

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