Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about strangers, fright, and fraudulence.

Good afternoon folks...happy Friday! Interesting prompts today...so let's get right into 'em.

"Let's talk~ How do you start conversations with strangers? What topics do you avoid? Is it easier with one gender or another?"

I'm not so sure I'm outgoing enough to approach random people and kick up a conversation with 'em. Especially if I'm out roaming the world unaccompanied...you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone, and we go about our business without the need for intersection. I don't talk unless I absolutely have to.

So to address the prompt properly and in regards to gender, it's not any easier or harder to talk to people I don't know. As long as you don't look like you'll drag me off into a dark alley if I'm lost and need directions, I'll approach you.

In mixed company...sorry; no surprises here. I generally try to avoid things like religion and politics, but I'm not sure if it's because I don't wanna come off sounding like an a-hole and offending someone with an opposing viewpoint, or if it's because I don't want to be paid lip service from whatever side you're on. It's generally easier to stay neutral and keep the peace so everyone can enjoy themselves without the burden of heavy topics. I'd rather be quiet and let someone think I'm stupid than open my mouth and prove them right (and I know that's a paraphrase of a quote from some great barstool philosopher or dignitary, but I'm too lazy to research it any further).

BCF PROMPT: "Let's talk about the psychology of fright. What do so many people enjoy about being terrified? Discuss the physical and emotional needs that are filled through this experience."

In my opinion fright, like so many other palpable feelings, is based on escapism. Romance novels, historical fiction, scary movies, etc. ...they take us out of our comfort zone and reality for a little while and allow us to explore something different that maybe we don't always get to in our day-to-day existence. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Personally, I'm jumpy enough sometimes without the need to have the living shit scared outta me. I can do without that feeling. That's not to say I'm some kinda pansy who gets creeped out by spiders or shadows in the dark; far from it, actually. I'm probably too grounded in reality most of the time, to a fault (though surely that's debatable to some). A Stephen King novel to me is no more frightening than the front page of a newspaper.

But some people need to feel that rush. Nothing wrong with that, because like I said, it's a form of escape. It's a lesser sense, if touch, taste, smell, sight and sound are major. Fright fulfills that as much as joy, despair, educational enrichment and desperation. As human beings, we're some of the neediest creatures on the planet...fright is just one of the many ways we choose to satisfy ourselves.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

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So I had this friend in junior high who really liked this girl...I wasn't attracted to her, but she was a cheerleader and being dorks, she was
pretty far above our social status. But he was convinced he'd have a shot at her if he had a way to separate himself from the pack (and her from her hotshot, stacked, mega whatever boyfriend who was older and, well, whatever). So I suggested we write her a song.

This was back in '88 or '89, and we were shit kids with minimal resources. I had a few ideas, so I scribbled some lyrics down one late night and the next day, we set out kickin' it on the garage sale tip. We came across an old copy of Billy Ocean's "Caribbean Queen" on 45 (the b-side was the instrumental version), and armed with my dual-cassette boom box and some tapes from my collection, we headed into his garage. I outlined him some thoughts, showed him my lyrics, and off we went.

It was a cheesy song where I sang this corny verse about romance over the Billy Ocean instrumental slowed down to 33rpm. We cut in a break from an LL Cool J song before I popped some love raps over (if I'm not mistaken) "The Humpty Dance" by Digital Underground...rockin' rewind-pause over the boom box a little and struggling to record it in as few takes as possible, because we were dorks, not sound engineers...and that kind of recording process isn't recommended, especially now in the days of well, every other way to do it.

I know I had a copy of the end process for a little while, and I remember not very long after that that it was embarrassing. But I wish I still owned it, because there was some mad production skills, and even a few years later in high school, there was some teenage booty-shakin' goin' on to my jam. Girls were like, "I can't believe it was you that created that song for her! It was so sweet, and so awesome! <or whatever the girls said back then>". And I played it off, because I didn't do it for a girl, but for a friend. So what if I conceived and wrote and rapped and co-created it. He fronted the quarter (seriously...$0.25) at the garage sale for that Billy Ocean 45rpm record, and it was his love interest. My boom box, my cassettes, my voice and words, and his turntable, speakers and garage. Even Stevens. I might've had some amateur keyboard involved, but that's cancelled out by us not needing its drum machine beats and him having zero chance of dating her. Ever. Ev-urrrr.

And why am I telling you this? Because of all the lyrics to that one and only song I wrote and co-produced, on the notepad my now-deceased graphic designer aunt made for me with my childhood nickname and a Superman logo on it (no offense, but I'll still never understand that), this is all I can remember:

"'Girl you know it's true' ain't the name of my rhyme,
but girl you know it's true that you could be mine."

And where did I jack those lines from? Milli fucking Vanilli.

Because, yep...I was sucked into the Milli Vanilli craze. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Catchy, dancy, and I was young enough to not know better. It was mom-friendly (until I tried dancing to it and over-playing it). And on Mondays in 8th grade, my brother and I would spend the night at our grandmother's house...where her bedroom was the opposite end of the house from the bathroom, so I could take a shower late at night and belt out Milli Vanilli tunes blasting on my boom box without disturbing anyone and shave with the disposable razors I stole from my mom, thinking no one was the wiser.

And when "Blame It On The Rain" came on while I was still in the shower? That was the fucking apex of the experience! We grew up in an apartment with just a stationary tub, so it was baths every night...but gramma's house had the big bathroom with a shower that had a detachable nozzle, so I could sing along into that shit! And that song was the jam well before anyone ever thought they might not sound like a failure saying "<insert middling pop song here> is my jam!!".

But then the whole "Milli Vanilli are frauds" thing happened, and while I don't think anyone has ever bothered to discern which one was Milli and which one was Vanilli, that didn't stop them from trying, failing, trying, failing, and trying again, until one of them (Rob Pilatus) died the typical 80's/90's star-gone-wrong death from the booze/pills OD.

So, in short, I wrote a song once. For a girl that I wasn't interested in. Based off a song from a band I used to sing to in the shower. Don't be cool, kids...or else.

"You let her walk away...now it just don't feel the same.
Gotta blame it on something."
Lyrics and interpretations.  

THE DAILY BOX SCORE:

The best way to communicate with a stranger? Leave 'em a hilarious note.  

And then there's this week's "funny photos"  , some of which have a bit of a Halloween-ish theme to them.

Ok, well, I think I've said enough for today...mom's got a turkey in the oven and I've got an appetite goin', so I better start thinkin' about doin' somethin' else with the rest of the afternoon. Peace, whatever you do, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!