The C-Word

What’s up my motherfucking audiophiliacs? Just to let you know, I’m probably going to take the weekend off cause shit has blown up on my end. The kind of blown where doctors use that vicious and cruel C-word in regards to your father. And I don’t mean “cunt”. Holy fuck, I wish that’s what I meant. I wish this was about cunt. Why can’t this be about cunt? I wish this was about some crude and uncouth doctor sassing the fuck out of his ex-wife like some dickhead and, thereby, flippantly using this etymologically strange vulgarity. I wish this was about some poor unknowing Australian doctor that doesn’t realize how harsh this word can sound to the rest of the world. I mean the real C-word. That one. That piece of shit. The big motherfucker. The one that empties the stomach on impact. The one that drops jaws, causes unwanted hugs, and offerings to the equivalent to and rhyming with, “tots and layers”. The one that changes schedules and plans. The one where you suddenly take things “one day at a time” like there was some other fucking choice. The one where planning too far ahead suddenly becomes a nightmare. The one that either causes families to come closer together or pulls them the fuck apart. Cunt is so infinitesimally small next to this filth that quarks use them shits as toothpicks. It’s the C-word that partners with words like “exophytic”. What did you just call me, motherfucker? If lucky, it’s a word that ends up making a piece of skin look like a back end of a quilt. This C-word. That piece of shit. The big motherfucker.

I said I’ll “probably take the weekend off” cause I really don’t fucking know. Don’t ask me why, but there’s a cathartic effect to writing these shits. But I want to leave myself open to being a bastard and missing a couple days. You might even notice I changed my motto from “I listen to an album a day and write about it,” to “I try to listen to an album a day and write about it.” Because that’s the truth. Life is fucking messy. C-words pop up like weasels on Viagra and with half the charm. I just need a bit of time to mull, moil, maintain, and potentially maul. I’ll be back in full force soon enough.

Until then, keep listening, you audiophiliac motherfuckers. Seriously, keep listening. To each other, to yourself, and to music, keep listening.




2 thoughts on “The C-Word

  1. Pingback: Brad Mehldau – Finding Gabriel – The Brightly Off-Coloured Discophile

  2. Pingback: Loren Connors – As Roses Bow: Collected Airs 1992-2002 – The Brightly Off-Coloured Discophile

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