You know the Prince song where the girl’s phone rings but she tells him, “whoever’s calling couldn’t be as cute as you?” I long to live out this moment in real life.
I was totally clueless about social interaction, and completely scared of girls. All I knew was that music was going to make girls fall in love with me.
The hungry feeling and the lonely feeling merged until it was hard to tell them apart.
I didn’t know what I was. I didn’t have a noun.
Falling in love with Renee was not the kind of thing you walk away from in one piece. I had no chance. She put a hitch in my git-a-long.
One of the billions of things I love about Beyonce: The harder she tries to come on crazy, the less crazy she sounds.
In my headphones, I led a life of romance and incident and intrigue, none of which had anything to do with the world outside my Walkman.
Morrissey was my Mrs. Garrett, the house mother from the Facts of Life, a soothing adult figure giving me words of wisdom.
It was bewildering and humbling to keep discovering how many brave things people can fail to talk themselves out of doing.
Sometimes great tunes happen to bad times, and when the bad time is over, not all the tunes get to move on with you.
The Stones suggested that if you dabble in decadence, you could turn into a devil-worshipping junkie. Paul McCartney suggested that if you mess around with girl worship, you could turn into a husband. So Paul was a lot scarier.
But the rhythm of the mix tape is the rhythm of romance, the analog hum of a physical connection between two sloppy, human bodies.
Girls take up a lot of room. I had a lot of room for this one.
Somtimes you lie in a strange room, in a strange person’s home, and you feel yourself bending out of shape. Melting, touching something hot, something that warps you in drastic and probably irreversible ways you won’t get to take stock of until its too late.
I was the only kid at Camp Don Bosco who would admit he was an alter boy back home, so I served two masses a day all summer. But I loved the cassock and surplice, ringing the bells, lighting the candles – it was like being a glamrock roadie for God.
Every mix tape tells a story. Put them together, and they add up to the story of life.
Nothing connects to the moment like music. I count the music to bring me back, or more precisely, to bring her forward.
It’s kind of amazing how popular ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ is. What other show can boast such an annoyingly sincere cast of doctors, sniveling through such perfunctory love triangles?
Julia Louis-Dreyfus is just perfect in ‘Veep.’ She gets to show off the spiky claws beneath her patrician finesse. The obvious way to play ‘Veep’ would be to make Louis-Dreyfus a folksy heroine, one with more common sense or populist heart than her enemies. But she isn’t one.
Most of an award-show host’s job is showing up and keeping a cool head and soldiering through it, whether it’s the Oscars or the Hallmark Channel’s ‘Hero Dog Awards.’