The opposite of talking isn’t listening. The opposite of talking is waiting. – “Fran” Lebowitz

I feel as if I have spent my adult life avoiding the pregnant pause. I have always prided myself on being a superior conversationalist. I recall a friend once referred to me as The King Of Small Talk. But I have reached the tipping point and I no longer require a constant flow of chatter. Don’t get me wrong, I still love a genuine exchange of ideas. But too much of my day is consumed with blah blah blah. So when a friend informed me she has started cutting people off in a blunt manner, I was pleased. Letting a friend ramble on because you are afraid of being rude reminds me of people who stay in bad relationships to spare their partner’s feelings. Lame! I do enjoy playing armchair analysis and I live to psychoanalyze my peer group. But I am through babysitting neurotic girls! I am starting to suffer from a complete saturation from all of this trivial knowledge. My brain is like a giant sponge and I can only absorb so much. And it’s exhausting to respond with my trademark clever comeback to every anecdote. I nod and smile and push the speech to it’s logical conclusion. More often than not, I am thinking of how to terminate this awkward exchange with a minimum of blood. Or at least steer the topic to a neutral territory. It comes as no surprise that people love to talk about themselves. I am usually a captive audience who likes to savor the intimate details of personal lives. But I find that the majority of this discourse is stuck in neutral and lost for direction. The storyteller is on automatic pilot and there is no moderator in the debate of life. I have been guilty of going through the motions. I find it oddly comforting to get into a routine where I recite my lines on cue. But I have a genuine need to eliminate the non-stop noise from my public life. And as it turns out, all of this over sharing is ultimately unhealthy. No kidding! The NYT published an article examining the question of how much talking is too much talking. Apparently, this tidal wave of self-disclosure can contribute to emotional difficulties including anxiety and depression. The term researchers use is “co-rumination” to describe frequently and obsessively discussing the same problem. The psychologists say it has intensified significantly with e-mail, text messaging, instant messaging and Facebook. In this age of information, we are on the verge of a meltdown. Perhaps, we should have a moment of silence with our acquaintances as a token of our mental health. They say you are only truly comfortable in your own skin if you are able to co-exist with a significant other in silence. But for a compulsive talking head like me, it’s easier said than done. So I will attempt to embrace the narrow gaps in my verbal stream of consciousness. I encourage others to extend the same courtesy. After all, are you looking for feedback or attention? Before the words leave your mouth, edit yourself. Think before you speak.

I was not a very politically motivated young man. Politics were never my domain, which could be why the next track had so little impact on me. In retrospect, it is a modern dance classic, with a message that is probably just as relevant today with our current endless military quagmire. But I have to believe the average age of this conflict is much higher than 19. In fact, I recently read that the army’s new cut-off age is now 43. I guess I could still be drafted! But above and beyond the continuing hostilities in the Middle East, this song just makes me want to wiggle. I have learned to appreciate instrumentals recently. And the freestyle sampling gives it a totally 80’s retro touch. Who needs lyrics to get your point across, anyway?

I usually try to avoid cover versions like the plague. But Scottish pop-goth group bring such a fresh spin to this classic track, it is hard to resist. Of course, when I first heard this tune, I was not aware of its history. Instead, I was mesmerized by the dramatic tale of a housewife begging her husbands mistress to stay away from her man. This being the 80’s, the video involves all sorts of over-the-top hair and wardrobe choices. But that synth violin is fierce!

The majority of pop lyrics are rubbish. Poetry in motion rarely finds itself in the singles chart. So when the lyrics of a track match its sheer musical virtuoso, you should sit up and take notice. Perhaps, I relate to the message of this tune because I always find myself at the crossroads. I recall when I first heard this song, I was literally between a stone and a hard place. So I was pleased to discover somebody else felt the need to spell it all out on video.  oh, and it’s Martin L. Gore!

Stuart Price is an incredibly talented man. Between dodging phone calls from Madonna and Seal to resume production duties on their albums, he finds the time for his own side projects. A chance encounter with the legendary Human League LP Dare at a tender age sealed his fate as a synth pop genius. This track has a hard edge to it that is more appealing than his commercial efforts. The claymation figures in the video makes a unique visual experience.  Like a trip to the museum under the influence of hallucinogens,  this clip is clever and creepy!

I pride myself on being a pop pioneer. Often, I will latch on to and artist before they hit the mainstream. Such was the case with Terrence Trent D’arby. My confidence in his talent was so great that I purchased two concert tickets before asking my sister if she would accompany me. I eventually had to drag along my cousin who did not seem to appreciate his performance. This single came towards the end of his career, but it was brilliant. It features an unknown singer called Desiree who would become famous in her own right.

Babble – Love Has No Name

This track combines my favorite genres. The most obvious is the trip hop grooves of the 90’s. But the musicians behind this sleek groove are none other than Thompson Twins, 80’s synth pop exiles! It reminds me of Sweetbacks first LP.

Growing up in the 80’s, I was under the influence of Madonna. Like any other fledgling fag from that era, I was lead to believe that if only I was able to invent the proper persona, I could be famous. I actually made a list of adjectives I aspired to emulate. Never mind accomplishment, I truly believed I could get by on my looks and charm and my chameleon maneuvers. Perhaps, I was ahead of the curve, given this generations crop of fabulous nobodies. But I was able to obtain notoriety as I started to promote parties as a club kid. Running around town with a sense of entitlement and free drink tickets certainly felt like public adoration. Maybe my initial strategy wasn’t so far off. Part of the process was my elaborate dressing ritual. It literally took me 3 hours to transform myself from Stephen Dixon to Sebastian Jr. And my costumes were never so complicated. Rather, the apricot scrubs and mud masks gave me the time to perform my outrageous affirmations. Long before Oprah made them popular, I was talking to myself in the mirror telling myself I was funny, unique and gorgeous. In retrospect, it was like The Secret for the shallow.  Blocking out any data that might interfere with my skewed self-perception, I was able to approach the night with supreme confidence. A little chemical enhancement greased my self-esteem wheels, too. I was able to erase years of teenage self-doubt with designer grooming products and trendy junior sportswear. Brilliant! After I retired from nightlife, I did not alter my ridiculous routine too much. Sure, I was able to present myself to the world in an hour. But the essence of my bathroom time remained the same. Part beauty laboratory, part therapy session, part meditation chamber, part fashion workshop.  I continued to put emphasis on the preparation portion of my program. All dressed up and no place to go became a lifestyle choice. Long after I started to grow more confident about myself, and my status in the world, I would not leave the house without going through my maniacal motions. And music was always part of that habit. In order to set the mood, I used to play extended remixes of songs with a Machiavellian flavor. Imagining myself as a budding icon, I would listen to music that would perpetuate my self-delusion. So I was taken back in time when I stumbled across this video. World Domination was a track I used to play while I concocted my plans to conquer the night. The lyrics reflect the naive notion that you could transcend your everyday life by transforming yourself into a celebutante. Perhaps, this is why I don’t judge Paris Hilton and her ilk too harshly. When you are young and in the spotlight, it is easy to believe your own press clippings. The notion of hard work seems like a tedious chore for the hoi polloi. While I am no longer that juvenile jellybean, I have adopted certain aspects of my former ceremony. Perhaps, it is due to my OCD, but I still measure my facial cleanser. In fact, my roommates once hid my special spoon to prevent me from leaving the house. I was ill, but that was no excuse to cancel my nocturnal plans. And I always need the appropriate soundtrack to get myself psyched. Maybe life is just one big mind trick. If you can fool yourself into feeling smart and seductive, why not? So perhaps my formative years as a pretentious poser came in handy after all. In a city, where almost everyone seems like an impostor, you have the freedom to re-invent yourself. Why not indulge in a little urban role-playing? So in the spirit of blond ambition, I present this classic flashback. While the Belle Stars never became big stars, I’d like to believe they are out there somewhere giving attitude. I will think about them the next time I dress to impress. Because we are all attention addicts!

Rachel Stevens Negotiate With Love Music Video DVD Rip HQ

This is about as plastic as pop gets, but somehow I find this song hard to resist. RS resurrects a three minute new wave slice of perfection. Enjoy!

Life On Your Own
Current mood: touched
Category: Life

Christopher McCandless: Happiness is only real when shared.

In the intense society drop-out drama Into The Wild, this is the protagonist’s last piece of acquired wisdom. Which is kind of odd when you consider that this character believes that human contact is not necessary for happiness and never seeks out romantic relationships. In fact, he spends the final leg of the film in a “magic bus” far away from all civilization. He certainly seems to have many private joyous moments before he eventually meets his maker. As somebody who spends the majority of his down-time alone, I started to wonder whether this statement was true. It brings to mind the old proverb “No man is an island”, in other words, we all rely on others and no-one is self-sufficient. But do you really need to depend on others for your emotional satisfaction? Or can you “make it happen” all on your own? Don’t get me wrong, I love to socialize, but I don’t feel the need to surround myself with miscellaneous persons all the time. You can call it extreme independence, but I accomplish a lot in the privacy of my own company. Like Mr. McCandless, I enjoy social encounters when they present themselves, but I don’t go out of my way to seek them out. But perhaps I am missing out life’s great rewards. It didn’t always used to be this way. Back in my heyday, I used to always travel with an entourage. This was a coterie of confidantes chosen for their ability to amuse and entertain me. The companions usually served as fashion accessories, because they were also selected for their style. In retrospect, it was probably not the deepest foundation for a friendship, but I did enjoy the company and the attention. Nowadays, I usually fly solo, unencumbered by human accouterments. As I become older, I find I have less time for OPP (other people’s problems). This is a change of policy for me, because I used to feed off the second hand drama. I loved to experience the emotional roller-coaster without ever taking the relationship ride myself. But maybe I am denying myself the only true source of happiness. But I have been single for as long as I can remember, and I would probably resist any future coupling. I am reminded of the Quirky Alone movement which continues to offer an alternative to the serial daters amongst us. I looked up the official definition.

Quirkyalone: noun/adj. A person who enjoys being single (but is not opposed to being in a relationship) and generally prefers to be alone rather than dating for the sake of being in a couple. With unique traits and an optimistic spirit; a sensibility that transcends relationship status.

Is this just another word for Loser? Is this like telling the world you are celibate, when in fact you can’t score a date? or does this represent a genuine alternative path to self actualization? I have always considered myself a rebel, but perhaps the conventional wisdom on romance is too great to resist. But the majority of folks seem to take equal parts ecstasy and agony from their significant other. Although I would never completely cut off human contact like Supertramp, I don’t need it to exist. As long as you are constantly seeking validation from others, you are always going to be insecure. Maybe my advanced age had provided me with a little insight after all. Or maybe this whole post is just an elaborate defense mechanism. Whatever! I will probably continue to be a “solo artist”. Whether that makes me a quirky alone or just another lone wolf, I don’t know. But I will try to “share” more often, just in case that is the secret to enlightenment.