The Random Griffith

Goofy status updates and other random gibberish

Posted in Uncategorized by Jackson Griffith on 10/01/2010

So I’ve bonked on writing about cars. I mean, I have 3,000 words of gibberish on Ford and General Motors, and then I was just beginning to swerve into Fabbrica Italiano Automobili Auburn Hills, and I realized it kinda defeats the purpose of blogging. So, uh, lemme get another cup of coffee, settle in and go off on a different tangent.

Oh, and while I’m at it, I should put my earbuds in and find a little background music more suitable, because they’re falling down on the job here at Temple on S on this overcast Saturday afternoon. When you hear “Hotel California” by the Eagles at any time, perhaps that should be a signal to bail and go elsewhere, but I’d already ordered coffee, and it’s bloody cold outside for us pussy-ass Sacramento people (sorry, Chicago, yeah, you’re tougher and this is short-sleeves and shorts weather for you) and I’d already settled in. The music here didn’t get any better, if you can believe that, and so I’ve popped in the buds and queued up Elliott Smith’s Either/Or album, which is my default setting for cold overcast days with coffee.

So: It’s important that some measure of spontaneity be at work here — Jeebus, isn’t “The Ballad of Big Nothing” a fucking perfect song? — sorry, uh, the point I was trying to make was that I’d gotten stuck in a rut because I keep trying to be precise and focused, and what happens is that my inner editor jumps in and then my inner perfectionist shows up and they open the refrigerator and get into whatever the antithesis of vodka is — Marmite, most likely, on grainy and “flavourless” toast — and then I’m sitting here wondering why it’s been a week since I wrote anything.

Got up this morning and was fixing to get cleaned up, had half my clothes off to get into the bath, and I have no idea why, but I changed my FB status to “Jackson Griffith wonders why ‘random sportf**king and occasional dinner dating’ isn’t an option on the Facebook relationship status update?” It’s always interesting what people respond to, and that one kinda struck a chord with a few fine ladies by the time I’d gotten myself cleaned up and good to go.

Now, I’m not trying to be a skeeze or skank magnet or anything, but the options “single,” “married,” “in a relationship” and “it’s complictated” are somewhat limited, don’t you think? And isn’t it all “complicated,” as one person who answered me put it? (Yeah, I know what people mean when they post that, but still.) And why isn’t there an option for “seems to suck at relationships but definitely likes to fuck”?

(Uh, I’m probably getting myself into trouble here, so I do hope some of you are entertained.)

Anyway, so I played a gig last night at Luna’s. It was quite nice; I was the opening lad, and some friends old and new showed up. I played a cross-section of originals, and realized in the middle of the set that I need to, ahem, retool some of my more, uh, romantic repertoire. I mean, I’m not David Houston, or Ricky Berger. The key to writing song lyrics, I think, rests in the reaching for emotional honesty. And while I’ve written my share of broken-hearted songs, and before that straight-up love songs, they’re not quite cutting the mustard these days for some reason. I need to move past that particular mental construct toward something less clichéd, and more nuanced.

I did bust out a couple of horndog original tunes, but unfortunately the females in the audience were all attached, because apparently word hasn’t gotten out to the footloose and fancy-free that I am the go-to guy for the music the ladies want to hear — all six-foot-six-point-six of me, with size-13 feet, too. So the first of those, a blues number I wrote a few years ago titled “I Am Almost Fixing to Get Ready to Rock and Roll” but never mastered well enough to play in public until recently, was somewhat wasted as an arrow in my quiver of musical seduction:

Hey pretty baby I been watching you dancing under the stars
Been sitting back undressing you with my eyes
Don’t stop dancing now come on baby you’re breaking my heart
You caught me off guard, yeah, took me by surprise

Hey lawdy mama I been watching you shaking your moneymaker
Yeah sweet pussycat this hound’s feeling that bone
And this doggy might growl if you won’t let him paw that fur
Dog’s gonna moan

Girl it’s time to be pulling your damper down
You better start turning your bread around
’Cause I’m almost fixing to get ready to rock and roll

Hey naughty lady I been watching you strewing your mess to the beat
Don’t know what I can do I’m losing my mind
You got something I want so bad, yeah, something I need
Can we make it happen, girl, show me a sign

Hey hot goddess I been getting all worked up watching you move
Caught you peeking at me to gauge your effect
I know you know what you’re doing to me by getting on your groove
So tonight let’s connect

Girl it’s time to be pulling your damper down
You better start turning your bread around
’Cause I’m almost fixing to get ready to rock and roll
Yes, I am almost fixing to get ready to rock and roll

Blues tunes, of course, tend not to be the métier of Barry White types; go to a blues show or bar, and a lot of the female contingent there seems to be a liquored-up version of what they called “hippos” on Jersey Shore the other night (and to be fair, the males in the audience often have the bearded and slovenly look of the perpetually scribbled, and I’m gonna get myself in some hard luck’n’trubble wif all you blues fans … you do know I’m joking, right?), so … uh, what was I saying? This beautiful and elegant looking blonde woman just sat down at the table in front of me; she’s drinking hot tea and, uh, what’s she reading? Eat, Pray, Queef? Um, yikers. No.

Anyway, the point I was trying to make before I became, uh, distracted and stuff was that sometimes when you’re busting out the Barry White intentions, it helps to stay away from the 12-bar form, opting instead for serious rhythm and blues ninth chords and more direct and to the point lyrics. It may even help to title the song “Barry White,” to avoid any confusion. So the next song I played was such a composition. And even though I did go home alone once again, and nothing came from my sincere musical ministrations of lust and other thangs, the tunes were fun to play:

Something’s got into me
Happens each time that we
Hook up to spend some time alone
Something I can’t explain
Something as right as rain
Oh girl you got me going

Every time I’m lying next to you I can’t get enough
Get up get up get up wake up ooh
Baby baby baby every time we spend the night
You make me wanna sing like Barry White

Singing so deep and low
Moving all deep and slow
Oh baby you take my breath away
Time to stir up the juice
Give it up turn it loose
And let the music play

Every time I’m lying under you I can’t get enough
Get up get up get up wake up ooh
Baby baby baby every time we spend the night
You make me wanna sing like Barry White

Oh baby baby I got so much love for you
I’m gonna make you cum all night girl that’s what I’m gonna do
Oh baby baby baby girl you know it’s true
And when the morning comes you’re gonna know I’m so in love with you

So in love with you
I’m so in love with you
Girl I surrender I can’t hold back
Got to give it up
Living to give you love
My train’s rolling down your track

Every time I’m moving inside you I can’t get enough
Get up get up get up wake up ooh
Baby baby baby every time we spend the night
You make me wanna sing like Barry White

Oh baby baby I got so much love for you
I’m gonna make you cum all night girl that’s what I’m gonna do
Oh baby baby baby girl you know it’s true
And when the morning comes you’re gonna know I’m so in love with you

Oh baby baby I got so much love for you
I’m gonna make you cum all night girl that’s what I’m gonna do
Oh baby baby baby girl you know it’s true
And when the morning comes you’re gonna know I’m so in love with you

And of course you do know I’ve only been writing here to entertain you, right? Yeah, I probably do need to go out and get myself laid, just for the gosh darned heck of it. But what’s more important, maybe, is me keeping a steady stream of writing going. Bottling things up, whether we’re talking about jam or jive, is not conducive to flow.

And these days, I’m all about the flow. —Jackson Griffith

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