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June 25, 2006
Why My Family Can't Go Out in Public Anymore
As much as I love music, I've got an embarrassing problem with it. I'm a big ol' crybaby, and nothing makes me weepy faster than music.
I bawled while watching Bruce Springsteen & the Seeger Sessions Band performing Pay Me My Money Down on Conan. Jimmy Fallon on spoons, even!
This afternoon, I got teary-eyed while thumbing through Annie Leibovitz's American Music.
My crybaby tendancies regarding country music are well-documented.
But last night ... last night I reached a new low in the musical bawl bag. I am no longer fit to go out in public if there's even a slight chance music will be played. At least, not until the new brain drugs take effect, hopefully sparing me and everyone I encounter from the burbling spring of emotions that bursts forth from every orifice of my face whenever two notes are played.
The first full day of the new anti-crazy drugs went fairly well, but the antianxiety stuff wore off somewhere around dinnertime. I was a bit of a basket case and didn't want to stay home. Clara Jane had taken a late nap, so we decided it would be okay to delay bedtime and go out for a bit.
We went to a coffeehouse, the one I was visiting the other night when I encountered the makeshift memorial service. In the past I've seen signs at this coffeehouse advertising live music on Saturdays, but I didn't see any such signs the other night. Surprise surprise, we walked in to find a cute little floppy-haired guy playing guitar with a pal on the bongos.
I wasn't happy about this. Live music, especially in such close quarters, tends to really get my bawl baggishness kicked into overdrive. Throw on the lighter fluid that is my current emotional state, and there's gonna be a crying inferno, Folks. Coffee in hand, Clara Jane and I settled into a table far from the music while B. went back to the truck to fetch a forgotten sippy cup. I don't even know what song they were playing. It wasn't sad. It's music. That's all it takes. When B. returned, I had my glasses lying on the table, face buried in my hands, weeping into a brown paper napkin.
The duo played played another song I didn't recognize, and I was able to compose myself a bit. My face slowed its leakage. But then the singer decided to be a real asshole.
"Next we're going to do Jeff Buckley's 'Hallelujah'. If you know Jeff's version, please don't get your hopes up with mine."
Do I know Jeff's version? Oh hallelujah, yes, I know Jeff's version, along with Leonard's version, Rufus' version (my favorite), and John's version.
This song? It's the atom bomb of the Make Robin Sob Like Someone Just Died genre. This song has the power to send me into a fit that could lead to health-threatening levels of dehydration, so plentiful are the tears and the snot and, yes, even the drool. This song is emotional desiccant. Do not eat.
"Oh please God, no. Not this song. No no no. Anything but this song," I muttered to B., sinking down in my chair.
Before the singer had finished talking, I was plotting my escape. Never has the fight-or-flight instinct been so strong. The door was right there, not four steps away from me. Hell, this was an emergency situation. I had enough adrenaline in my system that I'm sure I could have stood up, sprung straight into the air, lept over the table and Clara Jane, and been out the door before he'd strummed the first chord.
But the "rational" part of my brain intervened. You know, the part with my shame center. Not that it usually works worth a shit, but last night, as I prepared to take flight, it said, "Now wait just a second here. Do you really want to be 'that fat girl who inexplicably cried into her caramel macchiato, then stormed off at the mere mention of that song'? No, you want to be able to show your face here. And you don't want to be responsible for crushing that poor guitar boy's ego. Just sit your crying ass back down, put the damn napkin over your face, and deal."
Instead of being "the fat girl who inexplicably cried into her caramel macchiato, then stormed off at the mere mention of that song", I opted to be "the crying fat girl with the napkin on her face who keeps crying and crying and Jesus Christ, what the hell's the deal with all the crying? Shouldn't she be in a hospital? She should really consider laying off the espresso."
The boy did quite well with the song. Well, the parts I could hear over my sobbing sounded good.
A sidenote: if I ever invite you to attend a concert with me, you might want to put a lot of thought into how much public embarrassment you're willing to tolerate before you accept.
I should mention that this wasn't paricularly sad weeping. It wasn't. The music weeping's never really rooted in sadness. It's just ... music weeping. I could probably get emotionally touched and weepy at a Gwar concert. So please, don't feel bad for me and my weeping. I'm fine. Really.
Through all my weeping, Clara Jane was busting a move, standing on her chair, cookie in her hand, shaking her groove thing, which really, ain't easy to do to "Hallelujah". By the time the singer started on his version of Coldplay's Yellow, she was out of her chair, arms in the air, swaying from side-to-side. All she needed was a lighter in her hand. She grabbed B.'s finger, insisting that he twirl her around and around and around until she'd just about unscrewed his finger.
When they started on "Folsom Prison Blues", Clara Jane completely lost her mind. She ran to the other end of the coffeehouse, B. hot on her trail, planting herself behind the duo where everyone could see her. She then proceeded to fling her arms in the air, dress raised, stomping and shrieking to the music. The drummer played to her, egging her on. The other patrons laughed, adding more fuel to Clara Jane's Disco Inferno.
I, of course, sat there and cried.
With 2/3 of my family having completely disrupted this poor guy's otherwise decent set, we shuffled out the door, me with my tear-streaked face, B. with his gnarled dancing finger, Clara Jane exhausted from her performance, our work there, complete
Posted by Robin at June 25, 2006 07:49 PM
Comments
That Clara Jane sure does have moxie.
(Also: the Hallelujah song makes me weep, too.)
(And, hey, all of this stuff just means you're interesting, something that many folks are never quite able to pull off.)
Posted by: Summer at June 25, 2006 09:38 PM
Hallelujah makes everyone cry. Although John Cale's version is better, hmmmph.
I'm considering some medication myself. Seriously. My jaw hurts from all the teeth clenching I've been doing the past month.
Posted by: mary at June 26, 2006 01:59 AM
have your heard the k.d. lang version? we played it at my aunt's memorial. it brutalizes me everytime. that and Cold Play's Fix You. oh lord. it is late and i can't sleep and YOU KNOW i am going to have to listen to them now.
xoxoxo to you my dear.
Posted by: jenB at June 26, 2006 02:28 AM
John Cale's version of "Hallelujah" is my favorite; it makes me weepy every time I hear it. His voice has such depth and loss.
I've never heard Rufus Wainwraight's or k.d. lang's version. I'm not the biggest fan of Cohen's version (although I will always love him for writing it in the first place), and Jeff Buckley's version just puts me to sleep.
Posted by: Whitters at June 26, 2006 09:39 AM
I am very much with you on the public crying spectacle. It's not so much music that gets to me - though I will kill the person who puts on country or Christmas music because they are like tear gas. Music behind movies and tv kills me. You can take any semi-heartfelt scene add some sentimental music behind it and I am bawling. This past weekend the movie that had tears pouring down my face was....wait for it.... Cool Runnings. What the hell is wrong with me? Hormones on parade. I am always the one that friends turn to during movies to see when I am crying only to heckle. Glad I can share in my pain with someone else.
P.S. Love the site. Found you on JenB
Posted by: SparklieSunShine at June 26, 2006 10:59 AM
Sorry to double comment you, but after commenting on this entry I noticed your list of books read in 2006 that is something I do on my site also mainly to keep myself focused and make sure I don't push of doing the things I love most (reading). Anyway, I loved your list set-up. I will have to keep checking back to get your take on books. I already copied down some title to look into.
Also I checked out your Myspace and I love that song playing by Gossip. I don't listen to them currently, but they have a style I really enjoy. I also love Sleater-Kinney, Ben Folds, New Pornographers, Rufus Wainwright, and Gilmore Girls. So I was happy to see that.
Posted by: SparklieSunShine at June 26, 2006 11:10 AM
You know I get the music weepiness, and U2 does it for me the best. Well, U2, Wilco, Neil Young, Boss, Beatles, even Simon and Garfunkel. Shit.
I remember the first time I saw Bruce (you know, when he sweat all over April and I), the tears errupted immediately after hearing the first few notes of Thunder Road. I think that song really does me in the most.
I just got home from my weekend and I'll be out the door in a few to traipse about Little Italy with Lisa. I owe you an email, and hopefully you'll hear from me tonight or tomorrow. Take care and do not the reaper...I mean the music weepiness. It can be embarrassing, but I think it's good for us.
Posted by: Blossom's Dad's Ho at June 26, 2006 01:40 PM
I like that music makes you cry. I like that it gives you an emotional release. I guess it is embarrassing in public but feeling music so deeply must mean something. Having it touch your core has got to be what the composer and performer had in mind all along.
Clara Jane seems to have the same sort of thing...she just expresses it differently. Let's hope her music-fueled-passion-dance thing doesn't translate later into a successful career as a pole dancer.
Posted by: DixiePeach at June 26, 2006 02:28 PM
I can't imagine that was a fun outing but, man, it was fun to read. There have been entire four month blocks where Hallelujah had to remain permanently off the record rotation lest there be major scenes.
Posted by: Moose at June 26, 2006 03:06 PM
I wonder when Alan Jackson is going to record his own version of "Hallelujah"...
Posted by: Holley at June 26, 2006 08:03 PM
I thought Hallelujah made everybody cry. I cried during the Wilco documentary, I'm Trying to Break Your Heart.
Posted by: Katya at June 26, 2006 08:47 PM
Summer, we have moxie by the truckload over here.
Mary, take the drugs. They're good. And also send me your new URL when it's up.
Jen, I bought k.d. lang's version from iTunes today. I hold you personally responsible for the weeping that occured. My God! Beautiful.
Whitters, I admit I'm a little bored by Jeff Buckley's version. It's beautiful, but doesn't have quite the whallop of the others.
SparklieSunshine, I also get the TV and movie weepies. Badly. We're talking really bad shit, like there are episodes of "Designing Women" I can't watch without sobbing. Oh, and you have excellent taste in everything!
Ho, Simon & Garfunkel have produced some of the most gut-wrenching shit out there. "America"? "Bridge Over Troubled Water"? Oh, man.
Dixie, B. subscribes to Chris Rock's theory of parenting daughters: his primary goal is to keep her off the pole.
Moose, it was actually pretty fun. We all get a sick little kick out of my emotional displays. Never a dull moment!
Holley, there was a public crying incident last week involving Target playing a video of Alan singing "I'll Fly Away". Fucking bastards.
Katya, did you catch the documentary on the Sundance channel? It was on this morning.
Posted by: Robin at June 26, 2006 10:51 PM
I have to look for something under my seat when they play the national anthem at ball games. One of my best memories was standing, slightly drunk, at the Boston Pops 4th of July extravaganza with my pals. We watched the synchronized fireworks display and held hands with strange foreign tourists and yes, I cried, but it wasn't because of the Cider Jack.
Posted by: allison at June 27, 2006 07:22 PM
No, I didn't see it on Sundance. I rented it from Netflix. I love that song the doc is named after.
Posted by: Katya at June 28, 2006 08:07 PM
What is the drug and is it helping more as time goes on? I'm supposed to be tough, but I can't get through a song at church, listen to the national anthem, let alone sing it. At times, thoughts of every sad thing that I've known about (not bad things that happened to me, but to others) engulf me and I begin tearing, unable to speak. I began weeping in the shower the other day, remembering some how grateful some poor children were when I gave them a patch from my sleeve. I can't even figure out what the emotion is, except to say it is sadness. Can someone tell me what I'm feeling, why, what to do about it and if there is medication to help. The doc had me on amitriptyline a while back and that helped some. Maybe resuming at a higher dosage would be a good thing to try. But I'd also like to understand exactly what I'm sad about. Why cry during the national anthem or a wedding?
Thanks,
NF
Posted by: NavyFlier at July 2, 2006 11:43 PM




