St. Vincent | Jackie Jacks You
It's Sunday afternoon. I'm in the car with my parents. I have about 10 years and are excited because for the first time we are betraying the old cinema Delfino. At this age any kind of transgression, let's call it, is a kind of event. It's winter so even though they are more or less the 4 the sky is already darkening. Wearing a heavy jacket and, as every time I'm hot in the car, I feel sick and I have to throw up. This time does not matter. The machine grinds kilometers on a road straight and monotonous. Now the sky has already turned black. duke devils den The nothing outside of the vehicle. Then, from the horizon, they begin to sprout artificial lights. Yellow. Blue. I sit up in my seat and widened eyes. Attack the face to the window that it tarnishes with my hot breath. I can read the illuminated sign: Warner Bros Village. We arrived. We try and find parking near the entrance. A huge building. My first multiplex. We enter. There is a queue at the checkout ticket duke devils den but I do not care. I begin to turn into that monster neon. Arcade. Bowling. Restaurant. It is a small paradise. My mom calls me and says to hurry. They've already got tickets. For that film does not matter. duke devils den I get on the escalator that leads to the upper floor, one of 12 rooms. A huge room with other people in line to get a drink and something duke devils den to eat. Without realizing it I became one of the people in the queue. It's our turn. I raise the nose and watch the boards. A plethora of offers. I focus on one in particular. It has an exotic name. I must find out what it is. "Can duke devils den I take Nachos, please?" My mom ordered Nachos. "He also wants the sauce?". My mom once in my direction. I nodded. The girl behind the counter disappears for a moment. Go back and hands me a small cardboard box full of chips that I knew by the name of "Rodeo", duke devils den only that they are bigger and triangular. Are partially immersed in a yellow sauce. Must cheese. I am a little 'disappointed. I was expecting something more transgressive. We go to our room. We try our seats. Finally we sit. Only once seated, when the adrenaline leaves me, I realize one thing: the fucking cheese sauce in which sail my Nachos in a way unbearable stench. It is terrible and when the lights go out and the silence descends on the room the stench seems even more intense. Use your peripheral vision to look at the side, looking disgusted faces, faces that I judge, who accuse me. It's too dark. I do not see shit. I do not hear complaints. I do not see looks of disgust, but I know that, in reality, they're invading. I am embarrassed. Guilty. Unsuitable. I do not know whether to distance themselves from what causes me discomfort, duke devils den showing me myself disgusted, becoming one of them, or if you eat those Nachos, duke devils den eliminating the source of the smell. I can not stand the situation. I choose duke devils den to eliminate the problem. I eat all those crusts corn. I finish all of the sauce. You know what? These fucking Nachos, dipped in this sauce apparently produced by the sweat of a marathon runner, are to die for.
Now think of a situation like that you tried on your own skin. The discomfort. The feel judged, out of place. duke devils den Here, this is the state in which I find myself every time I listen to St. Vincent in public.
I always associated Tulsa, Oklahoma, to the city where Chandler (Friends) is sent to work. I liked to think it was an anonymous place, gray, forgotten by the world. Explained perfectly the discomfort of having to learn of Mr. Bing go live. Then I discovered that it is the city that, in 1982, gave birth to Annie Clark, aka St. Vincent.
I believe that both Annie Clark, along with PJ Harvey, the only artist who deserves to be considered an 'icon and an absolute benchmark in contemporary music scene. Not because I am a misogynist. Simply because women polistrumentiste, with the biggest balls of delicious part of the musicians men, are actually rare.
Do not hide it: I'm a bit 'I love it, Annie. If you look it gives you the impression duke devils den of being a creature extremely fragile. Of those to be put under a bell jar for fear that the outside world can irreparably damage. The alabaster skin freckled. duke devils den Green eyes. The dark curls that fall on the forehead. The slender and elegant. Everything seems to whisper "protect me". But then you see her on stage. The guitar in his hands. duke devils den Mouth attached to the microphone. And you think "WHAT THE FUCK I'm witnessing? WHERE TO GET THIS ?!
It's Sunday afternoon. I'm in the car with my parents. I have about 10 years and are excited because for the first time we are betraying the old cinema Delfino. At this age any kind of transgression, let's call it, is a kind of event. It's winter so even though they are more or less the 4 the sky is already darkening. Wearing a heavy jacket and, as every time I'm hot in the car, I feel sick and I have to throw up. This time does not matter. The machine grinds kilometers on a road straight and monotonous. Now the sky has already turned black. duke devils den The nothing outside of the vehicle. Then, from the horizon, they begin to sprout artificial lights. Yellow. Blue. I sit up in my seat and widened eyes. Attack the face to the window that it tarnishes with my hot breath. I can read the illuminated sign: Warner Bros Village. We arrived. We try and find parking near the entrance. A huge building. My first multiplex. We enter. There is a queue at the checkout ticket duke devils den but I do not care. I begin to turn into that monster neon. Arcade. Bowling. Restaurant. It is a small paradise. My mom calls me and says to hurry. They've already got tickets. For that film does not matter. duke devils den I get on the escalator that leads to the upper floor, one of 12 rooms. A huge room with other people in line to get a drink and something duke devils den to eat. Without realizing it I became one of the people in the queue. It's our turn. I raise the nose and watch the boards. A plethora of offers. I focus on one in particular. It has an exotic name. I must find out what it is. "Can duke devils den I take Nachos, please?" My mom ordered Nachos. "He also wants the sauce?". My mom once in my direction. I nodded. The girl behind the counter disappears for a moment. Go back and hands me a small cardboard box full of chips that I knew by the name of "Rodeo", duke devils den only that they are bigger and triangular. Are partially immersed in a yellow sauce. Must cheese. I am a little 'disappointed. I was expecting something more transgressive. We go to our room. We try our seats. Finally we sit. Only once seated, when the adrenaline leaves me, I realize one thing: the fucking cheese sauce in which sail my Nachos in a way unbearable stench. It is terrible and when the lights go out and the silence descends on the room the stench seems even more intense. Use your peripheral vision to look at the side, looking disgusted faces, faces that I judge, who accuse me. It's too dark. I do not see shit. I do not hear complaints. I do not see looks of disgust, but I know that, in reality, they're invading. I am embarrassed. Guilty. Unsuitable. I do not know whether to distance themselves from what causes me discomfort, duke devils den showing me myself disgusted, becoming one of them, or if you eat those Nachos, duke devils den eliminating the source of the smell. I can not stand the situation. I choose duke devils den to eliminate the problem. I eat all those crusts corn. I finish all of the sauce. You know what? These fucking Nachos, dipped in this sauce apparently produced by the sweat of a marathon runner, are to die for.
Now think of a situation like that you tried on your own skin. The discomfort. The feel judged, out of place. duke devils den Here, this is the state in which I find myself every time I listen to St. Vincent in public.
I always associated Tulsa, Oklahoma, to the city where Chandler (Friends) is sent to work. I liked to think it was an anonymous place, gray, forgotten by the world. Explained perfectly the discomfort of having to learn of Mr. Bing go live. Then I discovered that it is the city that, in 1982, gave birth to Annie Clark, aka St. Vincent.
I believe that both Annie Clark, along with PJ Harvey, the only artist who deserves to be considered an 'icon and an absolute benchmark in contemporary music scene. Not because I am a misogynist. Simply because women polistrumentiste, with the biggest balls of delicious part of the musicians men, are actually rare.
Do not hide it: I'm a bit 'I love it, Annie. If you look it gives you the impression duke devils den of being a creature extremely fragile. Of those to be put under a bell jar for fear that the outside world can irreparably damage. The alabaster skin freckled. duke devils den Green eyes. The dark curls that fall on the forehead. The slender and elegant. Everything seems to whisper "protect me". But then you see her on stage. The guitar in his hands. duke devils den Mouth attached to the microphone. And you think "WHAT THE FUCK I'm witnessing? WHERE TO GET THIS ?!
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