When I initially took these pictures a couple of months ago I had anticipated the topic of this post to revolve around the fantastic pair of thrift store sunglasses I'm wearing. Unfortunately, this is one of the major drawbacks of stockpiling images. By the time I’m actually ready to post them the original topic I had in mind seems rather, “Meh,” in its relevancy toward my current life. I guess I would still like to toot my own horn at the fact that I found these specs secondhand for two dollars! Can you believe someone willingly parted with these babies? “Toot! Toot!”
Now I’d like to focus on a more current subject. It’s quite possible I’ve told this story before…my memory is admittedly not the sharpest… however, some things in my mind are just too funny not to repeat. A very old and dear friend of mine was once driven to the brink of insanity by a song that was stuck in his head. The fact that the song was Tina Turner’s, “Private Dancer,” has always given me the uncontrollable giggles. Basically, this friend is of the rugged woodsman variety. I can’t seem to get past the flannel clad image of him strutting around shopping for canteens and humming, “Private Dancer,” through his full beard and mustache.
I remember the day he confessed to me his proclivity for this song. He looked me in the eye…ironically, across a table filled with enough food to motivate one to chop wood…and stated he could not get Tina’s song out of his head and it was seriously starting to scare him. After I stopped laughing…which was about the time the check came…I realized, “Oh man, I think he’s serious.” It suddenly occurred to me that my friend was being haunted by a ratted hair, red nailed, plunging necklined, epically structured shouldered succubus whose song of lust was sending him to an early grave! Okay, maybe that last sentence was a tad dramatic, and please don’t take that succubus comment to mean that I have something against Tina Turner. I simply want to convey just how much her lusty song was sucking the life out of my friend. Well, and admittedly another friend told me all about succubuses?…succubi?...over coffee the other day and I wanted to try out the word for myself. Give me a break, alright.
The reason I’ve had my friend's misery on my mind lately is because I myself have been experiencing the same issue. For some reason…that I can only attribute to karma… I cannot get the 1978 song, “I Wanna Kiss You All Over,” by Exile out of my mind. It started about a month ago and has occupied a rather distracting amount of my headspace. For example, there are many times I will be on break at work trying to pack as much leisure reading in as I can in a half hours’ time. I’ll be devouring the page of some thriller and in my head it will sound something like, “She was running through the forest. Tree branches were whipping her arms as she passed. Welts were starting to appear on her milky white skin. These lesions could only be seen by the reflection of a harvest moon coming from a nearby creek. As she ran she couldn’t help but wonder if her pursuer would use this body of water as her ultimate demise. How ironic that the same place she had spent so many happy times as a child would ultimately lead to her death. Now, as she sprinted through the near impossible overgrowth, she attempted to hear if HE was getting near. What was that?! A twig snapped followed by the screeching soun…I wanna kiss you all over. And over again….”
I can honestly say that many years after my friend's near bout of insanity I too have caught the bug. I hear this song when I’m reading. I hum this song when I’m working. I sing this song when I’m grocery shopping…and people look at me awkwardly until I notice that I’m doing it rather loud. Lastly, I think this song while I’m writing…so much that it seems to have dominated a post that could have been about a topic as exciting as eyewear. I fear the day that I will become so absorbed by this tune that I will no longer be able to finish a pos… “I wanna kiss you all over. Till the night closes in… Till the night closes in…”