Yeah, your dad, he was a cop and punched you right in the head. You said “Fuck you, Dad! I hate you!” and that’s just what you meant. But your dad was a cop, I bet his dad was a cop, yeah but you’re no cop you see.
Housewarming Party (Nervous Energies Halloween session)
Joyce Manor - Housewarming Party
No, to me you are The Great Wall Of China Yeah, to me you are the golden gates of hell Yeah to me you are college camping trips and hockey. Yeah to me you are the lies that you tell Well its true! That I still love you For how long, I never could tell But our lives are the same, both in shape and in length For when you die, I will die as well
i went to my coworker’s housewarming party. i walk in, take off my shoes, get introduced to the two guys that are already there. i see an electric guitar lying on the couch, and i say, “who plays the guitar?” one of the guys - the relevant guy for the purposes of this story, we’ll call him, idk, timothy - perks up. “i do!” says timothy. “oh neat,” i say. “i do, too.”
timothy. oh, timothy. you poor, sweet bastard. you can see the hearts lighting up in his eyes. my coworker asks him to put the guitar away so we can sit on the couch and play cards against humanity, so he picks up the guitar and zips up the case, but you can tell: it’s killing him.
and sure enough, when my coworker gets up for five minutes and takes half the people in the room with her to go get parking passes, timothy beelines for the guitar case, whips it out, starts playing johnny b. goode. “let’s talk favourite bands,” says timothy. “do you listen to the black keys?” i do not, and i tell him so. “uh, arctic monkeys?” i shrug, noncommittal. “what about nirvana?”
i nod. “oh, yeah, i love nirvana.”
that was all timothy needed to hear. that was all timothy had been waiting to hear. his fingers switch positions on the fret and he begins to play the intro to smells like teen spirit. just rips through it. and then stops. and plays the intro again. because - and this is just conjecture here - that was the only part of the song he had learned to play. he’s getting a little frantic, so he looks up again.
“i really like jack white,” he says.
“me too,” i reply. “the white stripes are great.”
relief. sweet, sweet relief. there’s just one riff, and he is playing the fuck out of that riff. at this point, the people who went out for parking passes come back, and one girl walking in recognizes the song and starts to clap the drumbeat, so i do too, and then i start to sing seven nation army. i kinda killed it? i remembered all the words? timothy was like, his eyes were about to fall out of his head. and then.
he starts to play fell in love with a girl.
and i’m like, oh. my god. timothy.
incidentally, fell in love with a girl was the official theme song of a previous relationship i’d had with a girl, like, it was Our Song, because i was in love with a girl, because i am not romantically or sexually attracted to men, at all, in the least, and certainly not to poor, sweet timothy, who is quite literally declaring his love for me in the form of a white stripes song in the middle of a living room filled with people because i briefly mentioned that i like the white stripes.
so like, naturally, i start to sing. “FELL IN LOVE WITH A GIRL. FELL IN LOVE ONCE, AND ALMOST COMPLETELY. SHE’S IN LOVE WITH THE WORLD, BUT SOMETIMES” - here, a pointed look at timothy - “THESE FEELINGS CAN BE SO MISLEADING.”
we get to the end of the song. the next round of cards against humanity resumes. my friend gets a call from her mom telling her it’s getting late and she has to come home and i volunteer to take the subway home with her. timothy looks like he’s been shot. his eyes follow me to the door. he watches me put on my shoes. i yell “bye, it was nice to meet you guys!” he whimpers, “bye.” i shut the door behind me.
an hour later i get off the subway, walk back into the realm of cell reception, and my phone buzzes. it’s my coworker.