flamgirlant
The Poison Tree - “Welcome To The Neighborhood”
In high school I had a serious crush on my French teacher. I didn’t take French until my sophomore year, but caught on incredibly quickly. I threw off the curve. Mr. L and I would sit in the back of class playing Mille Bornes and talk in French about how stupid the rest of the kids were while they all retook the test they failed but I aced. He skipped me ahead a year. My efforts overreached my abilities but he encouraged it. I dreamed in French. My major first time through college, thanks to him.
He was tall and blonde. Occasional mustache or beard. He had a bit of a mullet and it was often permed. He wore Zubaz. And ugly Cosby sweaters. But oh, was he dry. And sarcastic. Passionate. Funny.
He’d play music while we took tests or worked on projects. When it wasn’t French music, it was Harry Chapin.
Steve Salett and The Poison Tree remind me of Harry Chapin. Seemingly simple melodies full of depth. Songs you’ll find yourself humming under your breath without knowing. A rich, unassuming voice that can catch you off guard.
I’m charmed.
I bet Mr. L would love this.
Just not at the same time I’m buying tampons. It’s like I’m advertising to the folks in line “hey, while the playground might be closed there’s a back entrance to the fun zone”.
Jefferson Airplane - “Third Week In Chelsea”
My absolute favorite Jefferson Airplane tune. Man.
My folks split up when I was in 6th grade, though I don’t quite remember it. I call the time between 6th grade and Junior year of high school my “fuzz” years. Being a chubby, shy, brainy kid going through puberty a bit before everyone else was hard enough (emphasis on BLOOM in early bloomer), add a divorce to the mix with two younger sisters to take care of and things just became… to much to handle. Trying to figure out who the hell you and navigating your place in the world without having a solid anchor and managing your messed up family as a teen is pretty tough. So I guess I sort of swirled everything together… mixed the high points in with the low to make them more bearable. Just means I have very, very few specific memories of that time.
And then I just… gave up. Told everybody to take care of their own shit for once, made it to graduation and then got. the fuck. out. You know how sometimes you find a song that can help change your life? This song found me just as that fuzz cleared.
To think, without Jefferson Airplane I may not be the sassy, (arguably) well-adjusted, realistic broad you know today. Though I’d still have a decent rack. ;)
