Good Morning, Midnight

By Maddie

To answer the question on the tip of all your tongues: Yes, it IS Friday! Finally!!! Got any fun plans? Hitting up some bars? Hanging out with friends? Making life-altering mistakes? I'd love to keep asking you questions so you can feel important, but I need to transition into an explanation of this post's title. I'm not the biggest Emily Dickinson fan, but she has a poem I like called "Good Morning - Midnight." It begins, "Good Morning - Midnight - /I’m coming Home - /Day - got tired of Me - /How could I - of Him?" Lovely, isn't it? What's even lovelier is the 1939 Jean Rhys novel of the same name. It's about a depressed, alcoholic woman, living in Paris, reliving her past. This may come as a shock given that description, but it's extremely sad. I'm not going to talk about it anymore because I'd hate to get you down on a Friday. TGIF and all that jazz. With that said, I know some of you out there love the feeling of despair, so if you're getting that urge to wallow in anguish and sorrow, just shoot me an email. I'll gladly send you some choice quotations sure to make you realize the meaninglessness of our lives and everything in them.


Cherry Cola
"Lola" by the Raincoats
The Kinks are a decidedly better band than the Raincoats, but I still love them and their cover of the Kinks' classic "Lola." I don't know why, but there is something about a group of women singing off key that strikes me to my very core. Maybe it's because I can fool myself into thinking I would sound like them if I formed my own band. I also love cherry cola. As a little girl, I'd order Roy Rogers instead of Shirley Temples when we went out to eat. Now that I've matured, I know females should drink Shirleys, males Roys, but I still get a craving for that super manly kiddie cocktail every now and again.





From the Vaults

Will this ever get old? I mean, to you. I know it won't to me, because I watch it at least once a week, as I do the video of my other favorite tantrum-thrower, King Curtis. It's been a little over a year since this was released to the public, which means it's been a little over a year since I've laughed harder than I ever will again. My favorite part is when he flares his nostrils and puffs like one of those pissed off cartoon bulls. So funny. Last summer, I was with my cousin when we saw Bill O'Reilly get out of his car with his entourage of douche bags. My cousin screamed, "We'll do it live!" through the fence, and even though I'm not sure if he heard him, it's one of my fondest memories.


Too Many Martyrs
Today is the anniversary of the murder of civil rights activist Medgar Evers. KKK member and true coward Byron De La Beckwith shot Evers in his back in his own driveway in 1963. Beckwith wasn't brought to justice until thirty-one years later, in 1994. (You've all seen Ghosts of Mississippi, you know the story.) I've recently gotten into the West Wing (this is related, I swear), and when I'm not fantasizing about Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman, I'm paying attention to the other attractive characters. I rarely take notice of plot development, but by pure chance I caught this: After Charlie, the Black boyfriend of First Daughter Zoey, is almost shot by white supremacists, Toby, the Communications Director, asks the President, "Why does it feel like this? I've seen shootings before." President Bartlet responds, "It wasn't a shooting, Toby. It was a lynching. They tried to lynch Charlie right in front of our eyes...We saw a lynching, Toby. That's why it feels like this." Medgar Evers wasn't shot, he was lynched. I don't have a joke here because I'm not clever enough/have too much taste to try to make this funny. Dr. Tiller's recent murder and Wednesday's Holocaust museum shooting have shown that right-wing extremists much like Beckwith are still around, expressing their frustration the only way they know how: violence. Here's a video of Bob Dylan singing his fantastic song about his assassination, "Only a Pawn in Their Game." Rest in peace, Mr. Evers - and thanks for desegregation!





:-/
So much for not being depressing. I tried - I really, really tried - but it seems Fridays are just as fucked up as every other day of the week. Or maybe it's just this Friday. I looked it up, and next Friday is the anniversary of the passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Yay! Next Friday will surely be the best day of our collective lives. Until then, I suggest you get your hands on a copy of Good Morning, Midnight.

6 comments:

  1. Maddie, this was fantastic. I liked your part about Medgar Evers. I can't read about American history or I'll die (a curse that was put on me by a gypsy I was unkind to). So, I have no idea about anything that has happened in the past, I only dream of the future. Future racism is even worse than past or present racism, sadly :(.

    The Raincoats are a great band. They're also one of the sloppiest bands I've ever heard. They're like a listenable version of the Shaggs. Their cover of "Lola" is probably their best song.

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  2. "It's about a depressed, alcoholic woman, living in Paris, reliving her past." you're talking about me and my paris themed gm post, aren't you? :'(

    seriously, though, i really like emily dickinson's poetry (and normally i hate poetry), and i also like what i've read of jean rhys. THERE IS NO SHAME IN LIKING MORBID ANGSTY POETRY ABOUT DEATH.

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  3. Where's the Post-Rap video of the day?!??!

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  4. O'Reilly heard your cousin yell it, because I remember the next day Bill featured your cousin on his show as the "pin-head of the day".

    I think one highest honors someone can receive is to be called a pin-head by Bill O...that is next to a Slammy award for best bow tie.

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  5. gary, i contemplated doing the post-rap video of the day, but then thought it'd be too obvious. i think we all know that only one post-rap song exists: "the lala song"

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  6. That Bill O'Reilly video changed my life. In fifty years when catastrophic climate change has killed most of our population, this video will be uncovered and our children will understand why we decided to let our world die.

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