Whup! Shalooby
If you haven't already, I would urge you in the firmest possible manner to dial up iTunes and buy "Shine a Light", the soundtrack of the Martin Scorcese/Rolling Stones movie by the same name. The opening guitar line of "Shattered" is worth the price of admission alone. It goes something like:
As for me?
I see a line of cars and they are painted black.
Why? Well, I spent much of the day involved in the process of picking my daughter up at Kennedy Airport, that being her re-entry point to the United States from her three or so weeks in southern Europe. Standing around drinking coffee, waiting for her to clear customs, listening to the Rolling Stones on my iPod, I couldn't help but look at all the limo drivers and reflect that we are all, each and every one of us, but a cataclysm away from being limo drivers.
I think the mistake with the Stones is to have stopped paying attention to them after Sticky Fingers or Exile on Main Street. I mean, to do so would have been to have missed "Shattered," which, really, is just fabulous.
As part of this extended effort to bring my daughter home safely, I found myself on the subway earlier today, rocketing northward towards Tiffany's. Tiffany's is a nice enough store, by the way, but the man they have manning the customer service desk on the sixth floor is really an ass of the first magnitude. One of those loud-voiced people who feel the need to enunciate beyond what is normally called for and then be so smugly pleased with themselves for their clipped diction that you just want to reach over whatever counter might be separating you from such a person, grab him or her by the lapels, and kick the shit out of them.
This, I worry, will likely slow down the process of picking up my item, so I resist. Nonetheless, his exchange with a very pleasant Asian woman as I stood by--him with his over-aggressive enunciation and her with her difficulty with Ls and Rs. Who's that famous Republican that just died? Imagine that guy without the sense of humor manning the customer service desk at Tiffany's. Me? I'm still troubled.
The woman would spell her name (it included an R, plus a couple of disintuitively placed vowels) and he, while typing it in, would repeat each letter back to her in a loud voice, but each time screwing it up slightly. In the end the woman was embarrassed and likely thinking she'd go to Harry Winson the next time.
All this by way of saying that I was on the F train wizzing northward this morning and found myself staring at a different Asian woman entirely. And for the longest time I couldn't explain why I found her to be so attractive. Because, objectively speaking, she wasn't really that. That attractive, leastwise not in a classical sense. But there was something about the sharp, almost geometric parallelism of the line described by the top of her nostril (I was looking at her from about a 45 degree angle, so I could only see one side of her nose) and the line described by the ridge of skin that divides the upper lip from the lip itself... This, plus the lushness of her flume... I mean, really, it was just fabulous. Hours later I still can't stop thinking about it.
It also had something to do, I think, with fractals.
Anyway, she got up to leave the train a couple of stops before me and I found myself whispering the word "shalooby" under my breath. Quietly, I thought, but apparently not so quietly that the woman sitting next to me didn't turn her head and stare at me.
You think this job is easy? Is all I'm saying.
dah-dah dee dah dah-dah dee dah-dah dah dah dahLater in the song, after they repeat the riff, Mick replaces the last two dahs with the word "Shattered." They repeat this several times and really, it's just fabulous. Plus the whole "Whup! Shalooby" stuff.
As for me?
I see a line of cars and they are painted black.
Why? Well, I spent much of the day involved in the process of picking my daughter up at Kennedy Airport, that being her re-entry point to the United States from her three or so weeks in southern Europe. Standing around drinking coffee, waiting for her to clear customs, listening to the Rolling Stones on my iPod, I couldn't help but look at all the limo drivers and reflect that we are all, each and every one of us, but a cataclysm away from being limo drivers.
Whup! Shalooby.Me perhaps closer than some others.
(Shattered, shattered)
I think the mistake with the Stones is to have stopped paying attention to them after Sticky Fingers or Exile on Main Street. I mean, to do so would have been to have missed "Shattered," which, really, is just fabulous.
As part of this extended effort to bring my daughter home safely, I found myself on the subway earlier today, rocketing northward towards Tiffany's. Tiffany's is a nice enough store, by the way, but the man they have manning the customer service desk on the sixth floor is really an ass of the first magnitude. One of those loud-voiced people who feel the need to enunciate beyond what is normally called for and then be so smugly pleased with themselves for their clipped diction that you just want to reach over whatever counter might be separating you from such a person, grab him or her by the lapels, and kick the shit out of them.
This, I worry, will likely slow down the process of picking up my item, so I resist. Nonetheless, his exchange with a very pleasant Asian woman as I stood by--him with his over-aggressive enunciation and her with her difficulty with Ls and Rs. Who's that famous Republican that just died? Imagine that guy without the sense of humor manning the customer service desk at Tiffany's. Me? I'm still troubled.
The woman would spell her name (it included an R, plus a couple of disintuitively placed vowels) and he, while typing it in, would repeat each letter back to her in a loud voice, but each time screwing it up slightly. In the end the woman was embarrassed and likely thinking she'd go to Harry Winson the next time.
All this by way of saying that I was on the F train wizzing northward this morning and found myself staring at a different Asian woman entirely. And for the longest time I couldn't explain why I found her to be so attractive. Because, objectively speaking, she wasn't really that. That attractive, leastwise not in a classical sense. But there was something about the sharp, almost geometric parallelism of the line described by the top of her nostril (I was looking at her from about a 45 degree angle, so I could only see one side of her nose) and the line described by the ridge of skin that divides the upper lip from the lip itself... This, plus the lushness of her flume... I mean, really, it was just fabulous. Hours later I still can't stop thinking about it.
It also had something to do, I think, with fractals.
Anyway, she got up to leave the train a couple of stops before me and I found myself whispering the word "shalooby" under my breath. Quietly, I thought, but apparently not so quietly that the woman sitting next to me didn't turn her head and stare at me.
You think this job is easy? Is all I'm saying.
posted by Geoffrey at 7:58 PM
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