84. The Week in Me
Death Cab for Cutie’s “Cath…” and an unreleased Sweaty Lamarr song.
HI YES IT’S A THURSDAY I AM TRYING SOMETHING DIFFERENT!
I, before beginning this blog, enjoyed (deployed as an expensive manic phase) a short songwriting career. Career in that I earn enough in royalties these days to keep the lights on (the songs up on Spotify and Apple Music, because yes you do have to pay for the privilege) but not enough to buy, for example, a year of Ableton.
I put out some music as Sweaty Lamarr: a single about my cocaine-fueled ex, one about a guy named Jared 🚩 (sometimes profiling is accurate and needed for a lawful society) and a campy, country-fried EP called A Little Bit Cuntry because I’m - down to the curl pattern - Howard Stern with better politics.
I wrote about 50 songs, most within one calendar year, and released a grand total of seven. Money was a factor, not having a concrete band was a factor, loathing my voice to the point of suicidal dysphoria was the factor. I pocketed the dream, a used and snotty handkerchief, and eventually as I pivoted towards writing this Substack, the nailbiting urge to write panicked little loathe songs at 3am eroded. But as I sat with
last week, workshopping prospective submissions to poetry journals, I realized that some of these lyrics really should see the (pixelated) light of day.Below are lyrics I wrote four years ago, in a writing exercise1 that I highly recommend: choose a song that feels rich in narrative and write a response to it: a sequel, a prequel, or the depiction of events from a side observer, the other party.
This is “Silver,” a response to Death Cab for Cutie’s “Cath…” The inspiration depicts an observer of unknown provenance - a friend, a neutral reporter, a former lover - watching a lonely bride walk down a lonely aisle towards a lonely marriage. I always imaged the narrator as the one that got away. I never really got his whole, dickless deal. Was he resenting her for moving on, not keeping herself eternally available at his leisure? Was he resenting her for not exonerating him by “not settling” and instead linking arms with what feels safe and known? Was he, worst of all, pitying her? I know Cath deserved better than to be conned and spurned, and I think her story is a fucking tragedy. She loved and loves a man with a hollow heart he won’t fill with her, too married to cowardice to step into her love, someone who much like my friend Sam described about my second-worst boyfriend recently “would rather mope for two months then move on to destroy someone else’s idea of love than stick around and bathe in the warm golden light of yours.”
And so it goes.
And so she goes.
See if you can spot where I subverted lyrics from the source material. If you try this exercise, let me know.
Silver
Something about seeing the ring
Must have looked like I swallowed one
It wasn’t your knee, your face, your vow
My heart’s not in it now
To object
Just protect
The decision I made
And the good man I kept
Cause I didn’t know who I’d turn to at your altar
If the man I fell asleep with
Would be the same one I woke to
So I ran
Any way to
What’s constant, would never falter
I ran away to
Anyone
Who wasn’t you
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop me if you want to
I would have worn black
And been too on the nose
But I didn’t care enough to fight when white
was what his mother proposed
This was supposed to be your hand
Your heart
Your life
Tears meant for
your suit
your tie
As your wife
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop me if you want to
I found a man of constance
My friends were sated
So I’ll cork my eyes and twirl ‘round the room
But the hand on the small of my back
And the head-on collision of aperture flash
Will feel as cold and cruel as the absence of you
I know what I felt
And what I haven’t felt since
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop it if you want to
You can stop me if you want to
Stacked your ring underneath his
Grabbed your face in my hands when I went in for the kiss
Weigh that finger down
All this beaming shimmering nothing
All this manicured and baby’s breath despair
I want to turn to you to mock it but you’re not there
It’s a ring,
Not a wall
Silver melts in heat it’s not as binding as you think
Silver melts in heat it’s not as binding as you think
Silver melts in heat it’s not as binding as you think
Silver melts in heat it’s not as binding as you think
Silver melts in heat it’s not as binding as you think
Silver melts in heat it’s not as binding as you think
They’ve said we love the photos, you’ve never looked more happy
Their projections have nothing to do with me
What song would you love a sequel to? Let me know in the comments. Send me your weirdest choices!
To watch:
I wanted to recommend a current play in New York, as my welcoming new colleague Iracel is involved with this theater: you can read more and buy tickets here. My colleagues are so brilliant, and it’s my pleasure to be the absolute dumbest person in the room, and I was very happy to share some of their brilliance here with y’all.
I, an ardent Vanderpump viewer, was in the work bathroom when I saw this and yelped. And then I remembered the stall next to me was not empty. Oops!
To listen:
I may have to write a companion poem to this song, which hey, if aforementioned second-worst boyfriend is reading this, it’s you!
This playlist has been the only thing I have listened to since February 29th. For Apple Music listeners here.
I appeared on the Best Week Ever podcast to talk Harrison Butker, Palm Royale, and the mouse in Kyle Richards’ car.
To read:
My friend Carey Purcell’s book on the feminist history of theater, which is currently discounted on Rowman.com!
Just want to shout out
, who writes the most vital newsletter on this damn site with critical and lovingly reported updates around transgender rights and healthcare across the US (and occasionally beyond):
This un-embeddable TikTok carousel.
Kicked my heels up like the Scarecrow bopping down the yellow brick road reading these interviews with Debbie Reynolds presented by
. “If I knew why I picked these kinds of men, I wouldn’t do it2” girl lmao for real“The Jewish transgender couple who fell in love and escaped the Nazis,” by Jaime S.K. Starr for Queer AF.
“The Israeli Defense Establishment Revolts Against Netanyahu,” by
for The Atlantic.
Speaking of:
, as always:
From
at :
“No Strings Attached: People are increasingly turning to ‘A.I. companion’ sites for physical and emotional intimacy—whether they’re single in real life or not” by Flora Gill for AirMail.
Yup.
This is literally just Simone:
This is literally just Lugosi:
Actually my babies:
Various and sundry:
One of my favorite memories of visiting Tulsa last year was meeting the sweetaspie Mary Beth Babcock, who runs the darling Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios on Route 66 and the yeehaw-friendly antiques store around back. We love Mary Beth in this house. She opened a new shop in Tulsa called Meadow Gold Mack, so if any of my six Oklahoman subscribers (who are you all?!) hit Tulsa soon, swing on by.
Literally me dancing naked around the apartment to get Matt’s attention:
This shit had me cry ing on the bus. I got some weird looks.
Snubes.
I asked Matt if I could do this with Simone and he said no and I had to decide if in fact I truly wanted to marry this man. (I do, but like…come on.)
Stylin’.
I hope this is how the week ahead finds you.
Love you bitches,
TG
The only exercise I do, I KNOW, MOM.
I’d own a Pomeranian sanctuary or at least a small mansion if I had a nickel for every time I’ve said this.
I have to admit that I'd never heard this song before but the video and lyrics were intriguing, as were your lyrics which were "Cath's response" Here is a spot where you subverted the lyrics:
But the hand on the small of my back
And the head-on collision of aperture flash - With his hand on the small of her back and as the flash bulbs burst
Love the lyrics and pictures, you’re amazing!!