So, I was thinking, is there such a thing as the perfect song? I used to think so. My father first played me Schubert's Ave Maria when I was a kid, and I thought an angel was singing to me. Then it was beautiful, beautiful "Casta Diva" sung by Maria Callas. Then Mozart, oh my Lord in Heaven, Mozart....
Flash forward, I was going down on some chick when I was 17 and heard "Hey Jude" for the first time on her mix tape. I actually stopped an act of sexual congress and rewound the tape to hear the song again. Ok, so I went back down after the song started. Jesus, I was 17.
Then, I heard "Three Days" by Jane's Addiction. My world stopped.
Now, I'm 36, and I just heard (not for the first time, but maybe for the first time, if you take my meaning) the Rolling Stones playing "You Can't Always Get What You Want".
I suppose it's not the songs. I've always known the songs. Maybe they are all perfect in their own way.
Look people, I study demonology for a living, and I'm about as deep as a wading pool, so forgive the ridiculous shallowness of my epiphanes, but God knows I am trying.
I mean, for fuck's sake, my first single on the radio was about my best friend showing me his pierced dick and me throwing up. I'm not exactly William Blake. Hell, I can't even drink real Absinthe and be Rimbaud. But I can still try, right?
Flash forward, I was going down on some chick when I was 17 and heard "Hey Jude" for the first time on her mix tape. I actually stopped an act of sexual congress and rewound the tape to hear the song again. Ok, so I went back down after the song started. Jesus, I was 17.
Then, I heard "Three Days" by Jane's Addiction. My world stopped.
Now, I'm 36, and I just heard (not for the first time, but maybe for the first time, if you take my meaning) the Rolling Stones playing "You Can't Always Get What You Want".
I suppose it's not the songs. I've always known the songs. Maybe they are all perfect in their own way.
Look people, I study demonology for a living, and I'm about as deep as a wading pool, so forgive the ridiculous shallowness of my epiphanes, but God knows I am trying.
I mean, for fuck's sake, my first single on the radio was about my best friend showing me his pierced dick and me throwing up. I'm not exactly William Blake. Hell, I can't even drink real Absinthe and be Rimbaud. But I can still try, right?