On my walk to my internship this morning, one of my headphone speakers stopped working (not getting that fixed) so I could only hear half of Elanor Rigby. I hit next and Alicia Keys’ song, “Girl on Fire” came on my Spotify, and all I could think was, “In my biopic, there needs to be a montage where I start getting all my shit together, and this song needs to be playing during it.” My vision was curtailed when I accidentally hit the next button and a Ke$ha song came on. I hope none of her songs are used in my biopic, especially her latest gem entitled, “Die Young.” Whenever one of her songs came on at a party, my friend would instantly drop to the floor and begin to convulse to the beat while sort of spitting our her “lyrics.” That’s all I really think when I hear Ke$ha. I doubt her intentions are to make her audiences think. I doubt she thinks.
Last night, I “made” my roommates watch the American Idol auditions with me. There was this one kid from Cuba at the end who had a debilitating stutter when he spoke, but when he sang, it was like the voice of an angel, a Cuban angel. At the same time, my roommates and I said, “He’s totally faking it!” At another moment one roommate alone said, “I have this magnetic attraction to Nicki Minaj right now.” I think that’s the first time anyone has said that. The back-stories that come attached to the contestants on any show work on me. I particularly liked last night’s contestant who hadn’t sang in front of anyone before – not even his parents. Nicki Minaj was struck with a profound empathy by his story. She said that it took her just as long to perform for her mom. I mean, what was going to happen? A five year old wearing a blond wig and a leopard print onesie, shouting, “Lemme put this pussy on your sideburn!” Come on.
What do you know, Minaj and Ke$ha are the only words Microsoft considers as errors. Also, can Coke sponsor me now that I plugged American Idol?