One Thumper, One Humper
Please note: MP3s are only kept online for a short time, and if this entry is from more than a couple of weeks ago, the music probably won't be available to download any more.
There are some things you think, that, once you think them you can't stop thinking them until they're somehow expunged from your mind's crowded corkboard. SHERYL CROW FUCKS TEENAGE OASIS. Like pornography, or animal meat, or like a horrifying imaginary thing, it sticks there, waiting for a cue to exit, a loud and singular signal. SHERYL CROW FUCKS TEENAGE OASIS. It's not horrifying, it's only slightly pornographic, and it doesn't need something to die. It's actually kind of nice. Like in the pleather back seat of a classic car, in the 90s, or in a place without time altogether. SHERYL CROW FUCKS TEENAGE OASIS. Maybe I need to go there, to dream it fully out, to run with lit flares towards it shouting, to interrupt it, to see it break, maybe that will get rid of it. Or maybe it won't ever leave, maybe it's something like the shape of my skull or the sound of my voice, it will sit like a watermark on my vision, play on loop in my ears until it fades along with every other sense. And I might not mind that.
I overheard a couple of indeterminate age having this exchange on a long bus ride. It seemed to be a game, the rules of which I couldn't discern. "Fatty Acids," he said. She replied with, "Fat Acid Heads." He pursed his lips, "Hallucinating Hobbits." She bit right back, "Juggalo Baggins!" He laughed, and said, "Bilbo Baguette." She thought for a long time before, "Beret Charles." "The Blind Chaplain." Tapped her fingers, tasted the full long answer, "Counselor Geordi Troi La Forge." "Hm," he said, and looked out the window. But outside all there were were dark black trees. "New Enterprises, Old Psychics." She thought, and looked up like she were silly for not seeing it right away, "Memory Banks." "Ha," he said, "more like Memory Credit Unions." "Yes," she said, pulling the arm rest between them, "but that wouldn't make sense."
(autographed photo of Marina Sirtis)Posted by Dan at November 21, 2011 10:05 PM
I never overhear conversations like this.Posted by aireanne at November 22, 2011 7:51 PM
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"and i shall watch the ferry-boats / and they'll get high on a bluer ocean / against tomorrow's sky / and i will never grow so old again."
about the authors
Sean Michaels lives in Montreal. His debut novel, Us Conductors, will be published by Random House Canada/Tin House Books in spring 2014. His work also occasionally appears at McSweeney's. Follow him on Twitter or reach him here.
Dan Beirne is an actor and writer living in Toronto. Any claim he makes about his life on here is probably untrue. Email him here
Jordan Himelfarb lives in Toronto. He is an opinion editor at the Toronto Star. Jordan's posts appear at Said the Gramophone only on the last Wednesday of every month. Email him here.
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things we like in Montreal
le pick up
au pied de cochon
vices & versa
+ paltoquet, cocoa locale, idée fixe, patati patata, the sparrow, pho tay ho, qin hua dumplings, caffé italia, hung phat banh mi, caffé san simeon, meu-meu, pho lien, romodos, patisserie guillaume, patisserie rhubarbe, kazu, lallouz, maison du nord, cuisine szechuan &c
drawn + quarterly
+ bottines &c
casa + sala + the hotel
blue skies turn black
montreal improv theatre
cinema du parc
yoga teacher Thea Metcalfe
The Morning News