For a good five and a half weeks of my life I was completely obsessed with this song. That’s not unique at all to most of the songs on this list. In fact most of the songs towards the top of the list I’ve had multiple times where I’ve been obsessed with the song and had to listen to it many times a day for consecutive weeks.
Man, I’m like totally not in the writing mood. (Don’t force it Quentin, don’t force it.) Add a visual of me lying on my bed and a sarcastic tone to my inner monologue in parenthesis and you have exactly what occurred in my life some time between 11:05 and 11:07 am on October 2, 2010.
I think writing should be forced, and that’s part of the reason I even continued writing this right now as opposed to lying on my ass listening to music and watching golf on mute waiting for football to come on. ‘Should’ was the wrong word. If you can write without forcing it that’s fantastic. What I meant was that if a person forces their self to write it shouldn’t be frowned upon and thought as false art. I don’t know if anyone views it that way, but I, myself, who is me, believe that forced writing is a natural part of the writing art form. I know that some people believe that if a person can’t think of anything to write or isn’t feeling the flow they should stop. I proclaim they should push on.
This is undoubtedly the most common rule when writing, but it bears repeating, but before I repeat something I haven’t even mentioned yet, is it ‘bears repeating’ or ‘bares repeating’? I initially had ‘bares repeating’ but that was apparently wrong and when I used google to find the answer I got distracted by one of the sites that popped up that said “IT BARES REPEATING: CINDY IS NUDE AGAIN”, and now I’m off track in both my quest for the answer for the correct usage and whatever the hell I’m talking about in this blog. Anyway, just to be safe, it either lacks appropriate coverings or Ursus Arctos Horrriblis’s repeating that in order to write you must of course write, even if you must force it, and work through bad writing.
A writer should never think that everything they write is going to end up in the final product. That’s what editing is for. You can always write and write and then weed out the crap later. It’s much more efficient than not writing at all and instead watching a Scrubs marathon and taking a shot every time The Todd high fives someone and then waking up the next morning with no idea where your pants are and five phone numbers written on your arm from guys named Todd but one of them is only with one d. I employ the force yourself to write tactic all the time, but does that mean that everything I force myself to write ends up in the final product? Yes, yes it does, to a disturbing degree. In fact everything you’re reading right now I forced myself to write. I’m terribly lazy when it comes to editing. But that doesn’t mean you have to be. You can write all the crap you want and then take it out later. But the best thing about it is that it gets the brain flowing, and you’ll find ideas that you can expand on that you didn’t know were there before. By the way, this is why my writing is so random and never on topic. Most of the time I start writing with a general idea in mind, but then I find something I apparently can’t wait to say something about and start writing about that, maybe to come back to the first topic at some point, but maybe not, and then when it’s all said and done I rarely edit it down, which I admit is my biggest downfall as a writer. Well you know, other than the part where I don’t know how to spell (that joke doesn’t work when you’re actually writing) wait, this is what writing is?
Yet again I have not spoken of the song in the blog. Turns out I’m pretty terrible at writing about songs, but I really like this song, so I’m going to try and write a couple thoughts and perhaps even a feeling on it.
I like the bird metaphor in the beginning lyrics. Or is it a simile? See, this is exactly why I suck at writing. Every time I try to sound smart and talk about metaphors I get confused if they’re really similes and instead of looking up the differences between metaphors and similes for the a millionth time I instead let the reader know that I’m an idiot (also you finally decided to write about the song, and surprise, surprise, you got off track again). Anyway I like the bird stuff at the beginning. Especially when it continues into what is lyrically my favorite section of the song.
“I wish I could shed all your feathers from my head. ‘Cause all they do is keep me stifled when I only want to tell you right now. Tear your clothes off with my teeth like some unruly uncaged beast. From your forehead to your feet. I need to feel that Boston peace I felt that night with you. Drug-like release, the sheets engulfing you.”
Now I’ve never made love on a woman (or ‘to’ a woman) but I’ve always imagined that I would do so in a passionate sense. And apparently to me that means ripping the girl’s clothes off with my teeth. I think I’ve made mention of this before, but this is one of the reasons I can’t just be with anyone. I need someone who will let me release all my passion onto them, specifically their face (whoa) I mean with lots of kisses. I’ve already mentioned not long ago that I’m not into jizzing on faces. I like showing a woman that I love her, and that means passionately amazing sex she shall as often as she wants, and if that means hiring a well endowed South American then so be it. Also it means that it’s hard not for me to tell a girl I love just how beautiful and wonderful and special she is in a cheesy Shakespeare-esque way multiple times a day. I’m sure every girl reading this is thinking, ‘sure, you’ll probably keep it up for a week or two but then you’ll be just like every other guy and go on for days without complimenting the girl and just went sex and even when doing that you’ll be imagining she’s Beyonce.’ Not true at all. I don’t like Beyonce. It’s not a race thing. If we’re dipping into the dark chocolate fantasies I’m a Meagan Good fan. But more importantly I can’t tone down my desire to constantly be over romantic. Just ask girl who shall not be mentioned. She’s told me on multiple occasions that I was being too romantic and it made her uncomfortable, or something like that. I wasn’t really paying attention because I was watching the game and jerking off. But seriously, there was almost nothing worse than trying to make a girl feel like she was the most wonderful thing in the world and then being told that it was kind of creepy. Oh well. It was a distance thing. Hard to explain, so I shall not. But in retrospect I guess it wasn’t a good idea to tell her constantly that she was so beautiful it made me want to passionately fuck her on top of the Statue of Liberty with all of America watching (for all those who aren’t aware, that was never really said) that doesn’t mean it wasn’t thought.
I’m even passionate when I jerk off. I light a couple of candles. Burn some incense to disguise the smell of those disgusting candles. Bust out the high quality lotion, followed by the high quality porn (nothing like seeing anal in HD) and then proceed to give my gigantic penis (whose size has been grossly exaggerated for the purpose of this completely false story) the best massage of its life. And then I repeat the process six more times, or until I have reached a sufficient amount of shame for the day.