Sunday Lula was studying and I wanted to see how high the Mississippi and the Big Black had gotten, so I headed down Highway 18 to the River. There’s a headstone in Utica that I’m basing the latest issue of the Sandusky Review around, more or less, and in searching for it I couldn’t ignore the heavy shadows cast all over the cemetery. I do regret using all my film before I found the house with the Space Invaders pinball machine in the front yard.
Despite wide acclaim and adoration, Aimee Mann never really affected me until I saw Magnolia: then, gasping and suprised, I got it. The emotional content of her songs is often raw, but she hides it, mumbling out syllables, rounding out phrases. It’s only after you’ve dug the melody and played the song on repeat in the background for a few times that you drop your pencil, shaking your head, agreeing: Dear Lord. I’m in my thirties. I didn’t think it would be this way. “I thought my life would be different, somehow; I thought it would be better by now.”
But you’re still paying the same bills, still paying for the drinks you bought some girl in a bar in Starkville ten years ago that has been dutifully logged in a Mastercard database, bitter digits of memory that ain’t going away: thirty dollars then that’s eighty dollars now. You better wise up.
Aimee Mann – Thirty One Today.
Tags: 669, Aimee Mann, cemetary, polaroid, Utica
Studying was not worth it. I hate I missed the cemetery. Perhaps, you take me along with more film next time?
The Mississippi, it is high. I dig this shot and hope to see Space Invaders next time. Also, I am now haunted by the idea of all my past mistakes being kept in a computer database, so thanks for that.
Oh my god, do I feel your pain.
that looks like something other than a tombstone’s shadow.
That shadow looks like Easter Island. Am I one Sandusky behind?
I must have missed this post. It is a good one. Wait until you are 50! That is good stuff for songs but by 50, we’re too tired to write them. Love the pix, and now with my Review in hand, I’m certainly glad you made the trek.