So I turn 21 tomorrow. I’m not exactly planning a big bash, because a) I don’t much like big bashes and b) it is (ashas been the case for eleven years) on a performance date. Anyway, these are the last free hours I’ll have for a while, so I thought I’d getthis entry out of the way.
I’m not going to drink. I’m not going to start drinking. I don’t think that’s really a big deal. I don’t mind answeringwhen people ask me why I don’t drink; I have plenty of answers to go around (”it’s not what I do” is the most popularlately). What gets to me is the sheer shock in some of my friends’ eyes when they find out.
“Like at all?” they ask. “Ever?”
I have friends who drink, and I don’t treat them any differently than my friends who don’t. Their choices don’t definewho they are; I don’t think I’ll ever understand why mine apparently does.
I’m going to enjoy being able to get into clubs for 21-and-over concerts. That’s really the only difference thisbirthday makes to me. Having gained the right to do something doesn’t mean you have to go out and immediatelyoverindulge in it (how many people go binge voting when they turn 18?). In fact, it doesn’t mean you have to do it atall. A privilege is a privilege, a choice, not an obligation.
Alcohol’s a good disinfectant. The day I see it accomplish anything other than that, or aid anyone or in any waycontribute to the general good, I’ll try drinking it. I’m not holding my breath.
Also! Has anybody else heard Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed Girl” lately? I’m not even going into the mess Everclear madeof it (they had to slow it down because their bass player wasn’t good enough to play it at the original speed),I’m talking about the original recording, the one you might hear at a supermarket or a party with a DJ. IT’S THE WRONGVERSION.
I LIKE this song, and I own one of the CDs it’s on (a re-release actually titled “Brown-Eyed Girl,” with about eightother songs), and I know the lyrics. Toward the end, the original lyrics go
…sometime I’m overcome thinking about
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium…
And the version that’s getting played now, all the time, is as follows:
…sometime I’m overcome thinking about
Laughin’ and a-runnin’, hey hey
Behind the stadium…
It’s pretty badly done; the line is obviously copied from where it appears earlier in the song, and you can hear thatthe bass and drums are different in the background. It’s jarring and annoying and stupid. I’ve been kind of hoveringbetween “annoyed” and “outraged” about this for years, and today I looked it up and found out
That’s right: the version you hear now was originally a censored single in 1967. Let’s say that out loud, tomake sure we read it right: 1967. My mother was younger then than I am now, and somehow the censored version isstill getting played.
I could make some point about how this proves censorship is pervasive and insidious and, well, annoying, but that’skind of redundant. What’s more important is getting the REAL SONG out there, on Morpheus and Kazaa, and replacing thestupid stupid 1967 single. Download now and strike a blow for not-stupidity!
(That’s kind of a weak ending. Hmm. Opening night and the school show went well; tonight’s the real test, to see if wecan keep it up. Wish me broken legs.)
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