Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

a-clockwork-orangeThis is less overt, so bear with me.

In 1993, the Autumn as I transitioned into my Senior year in High School, I learned that a good friend of mine had killed a young girl in the forest preserves that surround the area where I grew up. This was insane, but what was more insane was the way this information came to me; out on bail for nearly a year, this friend had all of our group naively believing that he was innocent. I’ll spare you the whys and wherefores of our erroneous logic, and simply boil it down to the fact that we were young and trusting, and the deed had occurred after a party in the aforementioned forest preserves. A party where many of the shady A.F. people that hung around those woods were present. With all these variables, it seemed at the time that there was enough reasonable doubt for us to believe our friend had been framed.

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

Mirror ConspRemember my little ode to Sade a few months back? Originally, my idea for that one was to simply embed the song – really any Sade song will do – and type, “It works.” I figured if there was ever a ‘Nuff Said moment outside a Marvel comic book, that was it. Well, that particular column and idea were actually originally conceived for this band, and specifically this song, from this album.

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

Pit NinjaFile this one under: Ninja Fail.

Way back when Type O Negative’s second album, October Rust came out, they toured through Chicago a lot. And I think I went to see them every time. That’s how much I loved that band – still do. One of the shows I remember best was Type O and Life of Agony at Chicago’s Vic Theatre. It was a great show, Peter Steele in fine form as usual, a constantly likeable front man who both intimidated and amused the crowd. On this tour, the band mostly played tracks from October Rust and Bloody Kisses, tapping into only two songs from their debut album, Slow, Deep and Hard. Great show. But we’re not really here to talk about Type O Negative. We’re here to talk about fighting.

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

Nurture My PigAh drinking. You know, it’s funny – the more often I come back around to each of these categories, the harder it is to find things to write about. I guess that’s because, with the exception of crying, which is pretty universal, two of the other three are pretty much a young man’s game, so to speak (no offense ladies, just throwing this out from my perspective). I mean, I still drink, but I don’t really go out drinking. And even when I do, it’s never like it used to be. And fighting? Well, you learn to avoid that early on or you end up a stain on the sidewalk or an intolerable MMA arsehole. And Fucking, well, that never goes away, but it becomes a more personal thing as you pick a mate and go about getting freaky in a more intimate, long-lasting manner. But drinking… there has to be more stories…

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&King, and Crying

Gummo RabbitThis will be a quick one. And really, my usual go-to for a quick ‘crying’ song reference would be The Cure, pretty much anything they did in the Disintegration-era. I’m not taking that route today though (but I’m betting I will somewhere not too far off down the line – there’s at least one good ‘crying’ installment of this column that will center around juxtaposing Disintegration with James O’Barr’s The Crow). Instead, I’m taking this one at face value and going Orbison.

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

Leave your hat onI was never able to go in for much of the one night stand kind of thing. If I dug a girl enough to sleep with her, well, I’d like her to hang around a bit and see what happens. That said, I also got burned a few times, and this helped me to relax my teenage years’ overt neediness when it came to forging relationships with later in life. By my late 20s I was pretty comfortable with who I was, and despite a dry spell that lasted an insanely long amount of time at the turn of the century, this newfound personal ease led to a series of ‘friends with benefits’ situations, all of which coalesced into a bit of a mess while I was a bartender, indulging in a little bit more of the ‘night life’ than what I had previously been used to.

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

Screen Shot 2018-04-12 at 11.14.07 PMInitially, I think I lumped Len’s “Steal My Sunshine” in with all the sugar ray bullshit from the late-90s era of music, especially all the stuff from “Socal.” However… this isn’t the worst song in the world. In fact, when a certain reverie comes over me, I actually quite like it; as long as I don’t listen too hard to any of the lyrics outside of the chorus. Does the fact that I dig this song even a little bit surprise you? Because at times like this, when I’ve just returned from watching a concert film of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds performing for 2 1/2 hours, it sure as hell surprises me. But Steal My Sunshine is a fairly innocuous pop song, and a lot of those fit into my world view just fine. In fact, this one has a special place in my heart, first making its inroads into my heart about the time I saw the movie Go! in the late 1990s. Why? Well, let me explain how and when I first came to enjoy that slightly bandwagony but still clever, Tarantino-esque film and how it insinuated itself into my life. Then maybe you’ll understand. Or at the very least, maybe I will.

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