Five Song Friday: Crossing the Unfinish Line
This Week: Ballpoint Pens, Violin Trauma and Slow Suicide
Once upon a time, Ronald Reagan forced me to do something I hated.
In grade school they said the President wanted me to circumnavigate the school property using only my legs. It was a test. Everybody had to do it.
No problem, I thought. I could use a good stroll.
Twice, they said.
Sure thing.
And also, go as fast as you can.
Say WHAT now?
Back then I was not built for speed.
I ran only in case of emergency. To catch a late bus or escape a cafeteria scuffle.
Running gave me no pleasure, but I didn’t have a choice.
So I ran. I ran and there was lots of jiggling and wheezing and moments when I wondered if I would puke or my chest would explode or there would be some spectacular combination of the two.
Thankfully, I survived.
And I found that after my heart rate came back down to normal, I still really hated running.
But I loved HAVING RUN.
I was high on oxygen, flushed with blood and felt a tad more… powerful.
Today I feel the same way about writing.
The process of sitting at a keyboard while trying to coax words and sentences from my stubborn brain? Slow torture.
Slow torture sprinkled with moments of hope, which are always followed by a tap on the shoulder and a punch in the face.
It’s paradise if you enjoy self-doubt, dry heaves and flop sweat.
Mentally, writing is like a perfect blend of being lost in the woods and falling down an endless flight of stairs.
What I’m trying to say is that writing is goddamn awful.
But HAVING WRITTEN? [chef’s kiss]
There’s nothing better. Doesn’t even matter if it’s good, as long as it’s DONE.
That’s why I want to pause here at this puny mountaintop for a moment to admire the view.
This week marks my 100th Five Song Friday.
I’m not looking for a celebration. Nobody needs to bring cake or kick off a standing ovation. That would be silly.
I just want to sit for a moment inside the writer’s high that comes from looking backward at a long trail of run-on sentences, sloppy tense shifts and long-form dad jokes disguised as social commentary.
It feels good.
But it also feels like I’m one of those guys who decided to walk across the continental United States without telling anybody.
And today I arrive at Venice Beach in California, exhausted and disheveled.
Limping across an imaginary finish line. Full beard. Kinda dirty.
A passing stranger asks if I’m okay.
I say yes, thank you. I just finished walking across the continental United States.
Why did you do that? they ask.
I say, I don’t know.
[extreme close up, fade to black, roll credits]
But here’s the thing: I’m NOT in California.
Writing 100 Substack newsletters didn’t physically get me anywhere.
I’m still at my desk in Virginia. Still wondering if my slumped, low-rider seating preference will leave me with a permanent hunch in my golden years.
What have I learned after about 100,000 words?
I’ll need to get back to you on that.
I didn’t unlock the hidden mysteries of music. I can’t prove the existence of a higher power or Chupacabras.
And I still have no idea why Chrisley Knows Best.
But I have enjoyed my time.
I’ve found a consistent outlet for purging myself of dumb thoughts and ridiculous sentences. Instead of allowing them to inhabit my head like gangs of vandal squatters, I can set them free into your email inboxes and web browsers.
Thank you for taking them off my hands.
Thank you for reading.
What now?
I guess I just keep writing until I puke or my chest explodes.
Or some spectacular combination of the two.
Sincerely,
DJ CrankyPete
Five Song Friday 100!
“TREES” - BIG SPECIAL
Do you like tough, tattooed British blokes with badass accents who make dope music? Do you have a secret fear that you will just laugh at a joke they make because you don’t understand their heavy accent and then realize they weren’t making a joke and then they look at you like Joe Pesci in GoodFellas and you think, oh great, now this is when I get a ballpoint pen in the neck? Then you’ll LOVE these guys!
“Faulty Receiver” - Pozi
Trigger warning: If you’ve had past trauma involving violins, this band is NOT for you. All of their songs have mad violin. They don’t even have a guitar! What kind of rock band even does that?
“Drunk on a Plane” - Izaak Opatz
Izaak Opatz has described his music as “Dirt Wave,” a blend of country/folk that isn’t afraid to mess with pop music hooks and stuff like that and such. This is a catchy song about, you guessed it, drinking alcohol on a plane. Even though he makes it sound fun, nothing fun ever happens on a commercial aircraft. Unless you count when that Alaska Airlines door blew off in midair, which sounded AWESOME.
“Brunch Mindset’” - Life Aquatic Band
The Life Aquatic Band plays music that has been described as “upbeat,” “life-affirming” and “optimistic.” In case you were unfamiliar with that last word, “optimistic” means looking on the bright side and feeling that everything will work out okay even though the whole dumb world is on fire and human beings are committing slow suicide by chugging a cocktail of ignorance, violence and high fructose corn syrup.
“Don’t Play Around” - DJ Nu-Mark, Aloe Blacc, Charles Bradley
I’m not a relationship expert. But if you need THREE musicians to convince your lady to “not play around,” it’s probably too late.
“I don’t want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don’t want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don’t want to do that.” - Lloyd Dobler