Saturday, February 26, 2005

Kinda on topic but mostly off topic, read why!

I'm going to delve into the musical side of The Seventh Inning Stretch today.

I'm a big fan of lieder, I've said that before. You know you're a big fan of lieder when you almost get into a fistfight while arguing over the stylistic points of music of the Romantic period.

The biggest reason why I love this music is simple. The angst that is so much a part of German music of this period (of any period) is an angst I feel is common to young, middle class, suburban American males.

Hey wait I'm a young, middle class, suburban American male, awesome.

The root of that angst is usually this; "I didn't get the girl. The girl I love deeply is with another man, woe is me." That's pretty much the premise of the second half of Schubert's Die schöne Müllerin and all of Schumann Dichterliebe for those on the distaff side you always have Frauenliebe und Leben ("I miss my man and he may never come back.") also by Schumann.


"I didn't get the girl." That's me in a nutshell, although I'm not like the characters in the Schubert and Schumann songs, who I believe were stalkers.

(If you havent figured out by now, this is where things get off topic)

People say I'm too timid around the ladies, well that's wrong, I'm not.

I suffer from Perpetual Wingman Syndrome, I always end up the wingman even when I'm trying to be the wingleader. I think I'm too nice of a guy to tell a buddy to back off when I'm talking to a girl.

That always happens to me. I also have a feeling that no matter what their ethnic background is, women I'm attracted to, in turn are attracted to tall, skinny, white boys. Which sucks for me, because despite my name I'm stocky average-height, Asian boy. So I'm talking to a female at a bar/party/club/wherever and one of my very good friends, who's tall, skinny and white shows up for the swoop and in the span of ten seconds I'm back to being the wingman corroberating all of his exploits. Also whatever attention and chemistry I had with said female gets instantly transferred to my friend.

This sucks. Why am I too nice of a guy to say, "Back off bro, let me spit my game." I guess nice guys do finish last.

Attention, if you are tall, skinny, white, male and have problems hooking up, become my friend and those problems will cease. Just my fucking luck.

The silver lining to all this is my sexual frustration is what fuels my artistry.


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