this is the basement in my parent's house
clutter and more clutter, the only room my mom allows to be messy
it is my favorite place probably because of this
it is where i play and write a fuck ton of music!
it is also where earlier today before going to work i made a list of the top 3 nicest things that people have ever said about me that i am aware of
1. when people i really respect say "we" in reference to me and them, in some sort of connectedness
2. when i was standing three or four feet behind a boy who i thought did not like me who talks about music in a very pretentious way and dresses like woody allen and eats approximately three hundred and eleven calories a day said to his curly haired friend,
"you know, maureen isn't the clearest guitar player..."
and the curly haired boy said,
"yeah but she's got more fuckin' feeling than any clean guitar player i've ever heard"
and woody allen 2.0 said,
"yeah, that's true"
and i fucking BOOKED it away from them because i didn't want them to know that i just heard what they said or to hear anything else they said that might have changed hearing those nice things because i mean come on
how often do you get to hear nice things about yourself that you were NOT MEANT TO HEAR
how often do you hear good things about yourself that were not
CATERED FOR YOUR EARS
never, so i walked away so quickly, and then i had a miniature emotional holocaust
and i don't give a fuck if my chords aren't always clear
i am not going to worry about proving to people that i know how to play chords
songs are more about the melody, to me anyway
and i remember how i felt that night in the dirty overcrowded house i just played a forty five minute set at, i felt like how you feel when you don't eat anything all day and then you drink a LOT of coffee and have like a bite of a banana and then you're more hungry than you were before because your metabolism was just jump started by a bite of nourishment because before it was in sleep mode, it was hibernating barely breathin'; that is exactly how i felt
3. when someone i like holds my name in their mouth! is my name safe in there? are you going to tuck my name in, prepare it a salad, kick it in the face, change the channel while my name is watching america's next top model? and my name will say, hey, i was watching that, and then you will put it back on. are you going to feed my name lots of cereal and teach it how to vacuum the carpet properly or just put it on the porch and come back in an hour or so, will you install my name into your lap top computer and send it to it's first day of kindergarden and take a polaroid picture of it standing next to a yellow school bus while the driver pretends to think that this is cute and feed my name rice cakes and dust it every week or so and trim it's hair with miniature boyscout scissors on swiss army knives
will you bury my name in the sand when you go to the beach and sigh loudly when my name makes a better chess move than you and point to dangerous garbage on the street and my name will say "i can't believe someone threw that out here" and you will say "i can, people are fucking stupid" and my name will say "do not be so hard on us" and you will say, "what?" and my name will say "i mean, do not be so hard on people."
"and i wanted my face to hold your face, like hands."