Words are too frail for my dirty work. Language may be a virus but there are other contagions In my arsenal— a plague of hot breath spreading over your hips, the pandemic of fingers bruising breasts and thigh, and an acid tongue persistent as the rain flooding your basement, eroding the remnants of those that passed before me.
The day after Mick Jagger’s girlfriend killed herself I was driving to work, listening to the radio and I heard the song, Miss You, by The Rolling Stones. Frankly I thought it was in poor taste, but then I debated whether anyone even works at radio stations anymore or if its all just robots and then I worried that all Rolling Stones songs might be tainted from here on out. And then I immediately chastised myself for being so selfish. Then I thought about robot radio stations killing themsleves with music, but that’s a story for another time.
That night I dreamed Mick Jagger was an actual gun and he was singing to all of us. He was whispering prayer pleading to fuck the entirety of humanity’s brains out with his mouth gun tongue. I awoke spiritually disheveled.
Of course being an avid listener of pop rock radio classic hits, I hear a Rolling Stones song at least once a week, if not twice. So now I hear songs that formerly only spoke to me of the joys of fucking and perhaps drugging and chicken dancing and now I gotta think about suicide. Cue Al Camus winking offstage.
And then today, that shit putrid jeans model song, “Moves Like Jagger” came on the radio and I paused for one second. In that precious second I thought maybe if I listened to this song something would change in the month long Stones/suicide dynamic.
So like a clueless child I forced myself to listen to it. And…. its like something shattered inside of me. A delicate sense of enjoying the simple nuances of being an immortal eye of a deathless singular god was taken from me and I now live as a frightened animal in a terrifyingly indifferent universe.
I can no longer even listen to the crickets hush or a John Fahey tune with screaming in baffled terror.
I do feel better about the Rolling Stones when I hear them though.