Thursday, March 02, 2006

A Drunken Email to Someone I Like...

****Author's Note: The following is a personal email copied for posterity. I threatened such exposure to its recipient, but as promised, nothing remotely personal is mentioned. Mostly I talk about me, so there you go.... errrm, Mac?****

(Subjected, "and now I need music," after a vigorous bout of phone sex)

Well, I hope you're happy! You've completely sidetracked my evening and kept me from doing any real work. I'm looking up The Decemberists and have found a buttload of songs. "We Both Go Down Together" is on the top of the list, so I'll listen to it first. Interesting double entendre of a title, don't you think? Hmmm, they sound a good deal like REM, particularly the lead singer. Next song, "Some Kinda Love." God, I love cable internet! I'll have it before this is finished.

Although I'm gauche enough to expect money for the privelege, I really do enjoy talking to you. You're definitely more intelligent than the average pervert I deal with. (OK, I don't like this second song. I think it's a live recording or something. They've been talking for two minutes. No good right now. One more try..."Red Right Ankle" is enough to make me wonder what the hell? Very smooth, and quite a fast download.)

This is a cool song! I once wrote a poem about a sprained ankle. I then gave it to a celebrity (far more famous than yourself) whose attention I'd briefly snagged online. It went like this:

Beautiful colors burst behind my eyes,
I cling to them and to the endorphines
That flood my body, making the tension bearable...
It's almost too intense.

My eyes close, my fists clench,
I grit my teeth and cry out to God.
Scorching heat shoots up my body
And I couldn't stop it if I tried.

My pulse races, my breath quickens...
I swoon, so close to fainting
But I must go on -- can't stop now
Straining, straining... almost there!

Everyone tells me I shouldn't do this
I can't help but defy their advice...
Still, I know they must be right.
I really shouldn't walk on a sprained ankle!

(Had to dig deep to find that one, but it's a JT original...)

I like poems with double meanings. I can send you another one, if I haven't already, called "Little Child." It's a two-parter, my poetic masterpiece, that everyone is impressed by. Thus, I might have already shared it. Noooow, I'm getting good and drunk. When you read this, you'll be all nice and sober and probably skimming through this letter by now. I've decided I like the Decemberists, and that they're very much like REM, who (coincidentally) I also like. Back to my own playlist, put on shuffle. It starts randomly with Pat Benetar. "Hit Me With Your Best Shot."

***pauing to dance a bit, pee, get a coke, and make the room hold still***

About eight minutes later, and most is right with the world. More Pat Benetar? Will make sure this is on "shuffle" and then skip. Alanis now... nice change. Absolutely love her stuff! Ever seen Dogma? Somehow, I expect your knowledge of all things both TV and film to be vast. In any event, you should watch that movie, if you haven't already. A little silly, but highly entertaining with a rather famous cast. George Carlin plays a Catholic bishop, for God's sake!

Alanis is going off... what next? Celene Dion (?) and Alan Rickman in "Refuse to Dance." That man's voice is a wonder of nature. Liked him very much as Snape. Hmmm, notice tendency to drop pronouns when drinking. Efficient, if not entirely eloquent. Lots more use of the backspace button, too. (I notice as well that I'm babbling. Still, I'll see this through to the end. It's for posterity, as you'll soon see.)

"Refuse to Dance" gives way to "Twist In My Sobriety" by Tanita Tikaram. Very good song to get blitzed to. ***Will stop here to smoke and absorb music... probably drink a little more.***

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds sing "Red Right Hand" to me now. Music is important to me when I drink. Also, I think the stuff you listen to says a lot about you as a person. My advice: be very goddamn wary of someone who "isn't really into music." There walks an empty soul you're better off not knowing. I've only known two people like this, and unfortunately they were both stepparents. They both ended up being, in different ways, truly horrible people. Even if they like something lame and disturbing, such as polka, people who dig music are the vast majority. Those who don't are missing something in their souls... seriously.

OK, I think everyone involved has had enough now. I'm off to bed, hoping I don't wake up miserable. (Hey, a vitamin and a glass of water sounds like a stellar idea now!) Thank you for listening.

Ever so fondly,
Jenna

****Author's PS: Hope I didn't cross any lines here. If I did, I can always conveniently use the alcohol I've consumed to excuse my foolish behavior. I think I did some important, if not terribly valuable, writing tonight. "Mac" tells me I should write every chance I get, whether brilliant or inexplicable. I should listen to him, for he's made a tidy profit putting ink to paper, and entertained more than a few. Furthermore, he made nothing of his life until he was a few years older than me, so I'm keeping up quite nicely. (Still babbling, I know, but hopefully to a slightly larger audience. This monologue will be placed under the "inexplicable and largely foolish" category. The point is, I do love to write!) I'm not sorry (just now) that I posted this letter, and if I am tomorrow, I will be strong, follow my uninhibited instinct, and let this remain as it is.... ummmm.... a testament to the creative power of alcohol?????

2 Comments:

Anonymous bill said...

nice. it's too late in our lives to be sorry; i wish you the courage not to be. i's only our feelings that matter now in these mad and fearful times. go for it, jenna, alcohol or no. our lives twist in the inbetween.

July 22, 2006 at 10:02 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

bill's a twit. Just get your ass up for the big fuck and in the meantime, fuck them. It's all about cumming.

November 4, 2006 at 4:59 AM  

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