Wednesday, July 27, 2005
July 27, 2005
the smell of cow shit
wafting over the highway
as I'm driving home
My best friend's cousin is a country singer. Before she went to Nashville and had a couple of minor hits, we used to go see her perform at the county fair, which was held in our hometown. There was country music all over that fair, but it was ultimately a rock and roll thing, because our town had more dirtbags and burnouts and hot dirty girls in baseball shirts than we did real cowboys or cowgirls.
(Many of these awesome gentlemen wanted to beat me up, and some of them tried to catch me without witnesses. I would have skipped the fair, but my family was all into baseball and the fundraising concession was a dunk tank, so sometimes I would have to go work there, taking money and getting into the tank, etc. This meant that I'd often have to negotiate the minefield of getting from one end, where the dunk tank was, to the arcade, without getting my tiny ass kicked. This only changed when my big tough cousin moved up from Mississippi, and changed back when he graduated a year later.)
She had a lovely voice, and still does -- she's a big light of the western-music circuit now, and doing some very good work in that mode. But I was a Clash kid in an Aerosmith town, and so had little appreciation for lovely country voices. Shame. But that's the life, kids.
Maybe it was the fair and the FFA booths there and the hot dirty girls who played softball all summer and had boyfriends with knives and psychosis problems, or maybe it's just when you have to take long drives down rural roads to go see girlfriends...but I guess it's like this. I was at a party at this girl's place (her dad was an assistant principal at the high school, so hands off, which was the opposite of her attitude) and I accidentally cornered her in the barn and she didn't run away, and we looked at each other in the fading light, surrounded by probably literally tons of cow shit. Nothing much happened, but it's a great erotic memory for me.
Man, I need therapy. But I doubt I'm the only one who thinks cow shit is kind of sexy. And THAT, my friends, is what country music is all about.
twilight, as we kiss,
someone plays a mean fiddle
on the radio ¶ 7/27/2005
wafting over the highway
as I'm driving home
My best friend's cousin is a country singer. Before she went to Nashville and had a couple of minor hits, we used to go see her perform at the county fair, which was held in our hometown. There was country music all over that fair, but it was ultimately a rock and roll thing, because our town had more dirtbags and burnouts and hot dirty girls in baseball shirts than we did real cowboys or cowgirls.
(Many of these awesome gentlemen wanted to beat me up, and some of them tried to catch me without witnesses. I would have skipped the fair, but my family was all into baseball and the fundraising concession was a dunk tank, so sometimes I would have to go work there, taking money and getting into the tank, etc. This meant that I'd often have to negotiate the minefield of getting from one end, where the dunk tank was, to the arcade, without getting my tiny ass kicked. This only changed when my big tough cousin moved up from Mississippi, and changed back when he graduated a year later.)
She had a lovely voice, and still does -- she's a big light of the western-music circuit now, and doing some very good work in that mode. But I was a Clash kid in an Aerosmith town, and so had little appreciation for lovely country voices. Shame. But that's the life, kids.
Maybe it was the fair and the FFA booths there and the hot dirty girls who played softball all summer and had boyfriends with knives and psychosis problems, or maybe it's just when you have to take long drives down rural roads to go see girlfriends...but I guess it's like this. I was at a party at this girl's place (her dad was an assistant principal at the high school, so hands off, which was the opposite of her attitude) and I accidentally cornered her in the barn and she didn't run away, and we looked at each other in the fading light, surrounded by probably literally tons of cow shit. Nothing much happened, but it's a great erotic memory for me.
Man, I need therapy. But I doubt I'm the only one who thinks cow shit is kind of sexy. And THAT, my friends, is what country music is all about.
twilight, as we kiss,
someone plays a mean fiddle
on the radio ¶ 7/27/2005
Comments:
<< Home
Joni Harms (Let's Put the Western Back in the Country, "I Need a Wife," composer of "Cowboy Up", etc.)
# posted by 
: 12:40 PM, August 01, 2005
: 12:40 PM, August 01, 2005
Yeah, the name does seem familiar--I don't think I have a promo, though would like to (mention it?).I'll look her credits up on allmusic(good for songwriters credits too, I recently duhscovered)
Post a Comment
<< Home
