Keep That Pretty, Little Trap Shut

Hi Darling Ones,

My Valentine’s Day gift arrived yesterday. It’s so perfect and thoughtful I got the heart-eyes. Someone is totally getting lucky this weekend.

It’s me! I bought myself my second favorite Paul Westerberg album and, my very favorite Grandpaboy record I suppose. It’s a double LP of “Stereo/Mono” which came out in 2002 (ugh, 20 years ago), but didn’t come out on vinyl until 2019. It was a Record Store Day release, I believe.

I forgot how much I love this record (I’m talking about “Mono” specifically here, though I also love “Stereo”). I cannot remember the last time I listened to it, before today. It’s simple, flawed, and brilliant. My heart started zooming the second “High Time” kicked. I still know every word to every song.

Even though I haven’t listened to the entire record in a long time, I’ve been thinking about the song “Eyes Like Sparks” for about a year now.

This is a saucy little song I’ve been trying to untangle since April 2021. That’s when I typed out all the lyrics and figured out the song only has eighteen different words in it and he just repeats them to great effect. I still can’t figure out why this works. It must be magic.

I could give you a break down of my thoughts on a song by song basis. Or I could point out all the times in the early years of this blog I stole lyrics from these songs for titles. I’m not gonna because I don’t have it in me at the moment.

Hard fact time: I’ve been struggling creatively for a few weeks now. Words are not coming very easily. Everything I write feels superfluous and like it’s trying too hard. This ickiness is giving me a constant feeling of low-level crankiness. Basically, it’s gross and sticky inside of me, like caramel covered in cat hair. I keep telling myself to work through it to push and push and push. My soul read what I said about paying the mortgage and now it’s all, “kiss your creativity goodbye, bitch.”

It sucks and I’m unhappy about it.

Enter St. Paul Westerberg and this record I haven’t listened to for I don’t know how long. You can see the liner note from the Grandpaboy portion up above. This sentence feels like the very definition of I Will Dare, the website.

This is rock & roll recorded poorly, played in a hurry, with sweaty hands, and unsure reason.

Except this isn’t rock & roll, what I’m doing. It’s more like the literary equivalent of rock & roll. But the rest of it fits.
Recorded poorly? CHECK
Written in a hurry? CHECK
Sweaty hands? CHECK
Unsure reason? 88,888 CHECKS

I love this liner note. I love the whole thing about it feeling right and this is my blood. This is going to be the boost I need to get all that hairy caramel out of my system.

I hope.

ugh, this was so painful.

Subtle as a battering ram,

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