not even star-crossed, just unlucky...

well, my sister-in-law googled my lyrics and discovered the band that i had used for yesterday's quiz. i won't put their name here just yet, in case there's a few of you nonexistant readers out there who want to try and guess on your own. but in the meantime, if you want to know, just go to my sister-in-law's blog, and you can even link to a site that carries lyrics to most of their songs. also, in the line which i posted as "and a can for a heart" turns out it's "candle", not "can". of course, i like "can" better, since the song is comparing a wrecked relationship to a cigarette machine. hence the "she" saying the cigarette machine "has it made". anyways, i did not expect this blog to be an essay on why this song(or this band, for that matter) is so cool. but they are. you guys should check 'em out, as they sound very little like anything else you might hear on the radio, and most of the bands you might hear that sound like them have only come out recently, while this band has been around since the late eighties early nineties. my wife calls them "suicide music", but i think sub pop's official term is "slowcore" for those of you that like labels. i call 'em "cool", cause when it comes right down to it, i'm not really the wordsmith i would like to imagine myself.

but i enjoy expanding people's musical horizons, especially if i think they might like the little-known bands that i'm exposing them to. so if you would like to know more, or hear samples, or whatever, let me know, and i will try to do my best to aid you in any way.

so enough about that shit. what i really want to say is that i can't wait to move. it should be pointed out at this juncture that i live in an apartment complex. somehow or other, my family got put in the "poor white trash" section of the complex. what do i mean, exactly? you may ask. and you may ask, what are my qualifications for determining poor white trashiness? let me answer the latter question first. i come from a long line of poor white trash(on my father's side)(actually, truth be told, my mother says only my father acted that way, that the rest of his family behaved in a manner more suited for normal society, all i know is what i remember, and my dad was poor white trash), i grew up for the majority of my life in a mobile home, and not even a double wide, and not even a particularly nice "trailer", but, i might add, not in a "park" either.

but if there weren't all these nicely-built apartments here, i would currently be living in a trailer park. tubby girls have loud drunken arguments with their boyfriends at 2 am, then get pissed at the cops if they show up. someone near us owns a truck so fucking loud that if they pull into their parking space (which is apparently directly under our bedroom window) any time after my wife and i have fallen asleep, we are immediately awakened. plus, i live in pierce county, and for those of you nonexistant readers as know, seattle(and most of king county) looks down their cappuchino-dipped, hummer-driving, rei-sportswear-clad nose at us pierce county people as "country hicks", so there ya go.

now, in other parts of the complex, there are normal people, people i might be friends with, or, at the very least, not shoot hateful looks at under my brows as i pass them in the parking lot. i know, i have seen them at the pool, sunning themselves in old navy swimwear, i have passed them as i get my mail. but there are precious few of them anywhere near my building.

last night (or early this morning, i'm not sure, i didn't look at the clock), my wife and i were awakened by the sound of crunching metal, and bits of the kind of plastic used for light covers and grills on most cars hitting the ground. this was followed by laughing, and voices saying things like, "i told you to stop!" and "you've gotta do it fast!". now, the view of our parking space is blocked from any room in the apt by a tree, and i didn't feel like getting dressed at some ungodly hour of the night or morning and walk down to where i am sure to find a group of drunken sots standing around and gloating their stupidity, just to make sure my car wasn't hit. (if it had been, my wife would've seen when she left for work, and would've called me already.)

at the end of this month, we move to a house on a nearby military base. now, i know, to some of you that may sound like hell, but after a year in this apartment, i can't fucking wait.