I think my favorite song on that Amy Winehouse CD is You Know I'm No Good. Not just for the line "...and sniffed me out like I was Tangueray..." which is, face it, brilliant. But also for:
And then you notice likkle carpet burns
My stomach drops and my gut churns
You shrug, and it's the worst
Who truly stuck the knife in first?
There's two interpretations to be put to that, I think, either equally valid. I'm sure which one occurs to you first depends totally on your own relationship/romantic history. There's the sickening realization that your partner doesn't really care about what you do anymore because they...just don't care. They're not emotionally involved. You, and what you do, mean nothing. Or there's the sickening realization that your partner has just come to expect the worst from you, that your bad behavior is the norm and not the exception, and that, well, you're probably a piece of shit.
From the song title, of course, I'd say option number two is the "right" one. It's meant to be a song about self-loathing and guilt. But if we're using this as a little Rorshach ink blot to diagnose what our issues are, I'll admit the first several times I really listened to, and paid attention to, those lyrics, option one is all that occurred to me. Ah, well.
Did you have a nice Xmas? Did Santa bring you anything good? I got a whole bunch of meat. (Srsly. I'm not lying.)
Oh, one more Amy Winehouse comment. "Blake Fielder-Civil"...even junkies sound classier in Britain, don't they?
xoxo
3 comments:
Speaking of Santa, I have a little something for you, little girl, to put in your, um, stocking, but I must apologize for the social calendars not meshing in order for it to have been delivered in time. (Santa is a slacker). I promise you can open it right up the moment you're where I can give it to you, so no generalized memories of expectational sickness other than what will perhaps happen between now and then.
Merry Christmas!
*See*, I was gonna give myself a big pat on the back for resisting the oh-so-easy, but crude, joke about whether Mr Barma has some meat for me for Xmas. :-)
Um, but coming back to point that out proves I have absolutely no self-control when the easy joke presents itself. I can live with that! :-) :-)
Reminding me immediately of one of my new favorite punk bands, Neon Weiner and the Vast Delicatessen... (That's what they call themselves, and I wouldn't lie to you about that).
I suppose there are worse things to be thought about in such contexts by a pulchritudinous Pole, whose people do know a thing or two about cured meats. ;-)
Post a Comment