Oh, friends. I’m awfully sad that today’s the last day of this blog. And I don’t really know what to say beyond that — though I’ve been drafting this post in my mind for the last couple of weeks.
I did have kind of a perfect moment this morning, though. It’s going to be a crazy day at work, one that requires me to be done up in full professional lady drag — suit, good jewelry, lip gloss, shoes with heels. But as I drove to work, “I Love Rock ‘n Roll” came up on my scan. And friends, I played that shit loud and banged my head like I was in black eyeliner and a ripped t-shirt. It made me very, very happy.
I haven’t been able to figure out that one perfect farewell song, or that ideal note to go out on, so instead I’m going to offer up three that pretty well cover the gamut of my manic musical taste.
(Let me also say that I struggled mightily to come up with the song that perfectly captures my friendship with Mama Kitt. I just couldn’t do it, because ALL songs are that song. As evidenced by this blog — every last stinking entry in it.)
First, the earnest and maudlin farewell must be from my beloved Patty Griffin. She actually has a lot of songs that would serve today, but let’s go with plain old “Goodbye”: Today my heart is big and sore / It’s trying to push right through my skin / ‘Cause I won’t see you anymore / I guess that’s finally sinking in.
She’s just my favorite. No getting around it. She speaks for the realest and truest corner of my cold black heart.
Of course, I could also sign off with some Aerosmith, whom I love nearly as much, though in a very different way. As I’ve said before, I’m a sucker for the much-maligned “Cryin’,” and kind of want it to be the last song played at my funeral. Hence its inclusion here as exit music.
Seriously, that song makes me feel like I’m wearing a miniskirt, dangling stillettos from one hand, and walking off into the sunset with my hair teased high toward Jesus. It may not seem lyrically like a swan song, but to me it sounds like one.
Finally, I didn’t feel like I could really go out without a showtune. But I couldn’t think of one that said au revoir the way I wanted to say it, so instead I’m going to go out with a “a new day’s dawning” message — one with a spirit of excitement tinged with wariness, joy leavened with fear of the unknown. All the things I’m feeling, set to a syncopated beat.
It’s the music of something beginning, y’all. (Also, Gleeks, check out young Lea Michele.)
Dear Mama Kitt, about to become Mama Kitt of two, I love you more than Broadway, more than hair spray, more than five scoops of Frozen Custard. I have loved our little blog project, and toast to many more years of riding in cars (virtually or actually) with the radio blasting.
And readers, you awesome few: Thank you, thank you, thank you for being part of our Auto Tunes party.
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May 12, 2011 at 10:39 am
One more for the road « Auto Tunes: We Drive, We Listen, We Write
[...] That TGOTS and I had arranged for her splendid final post to be the splendid final post, because it is so splendid. Anything I add can only be an [...]
May 12, 2011 at 2:01 pm
Carobird
Thank you for nearly two great years! It’s been a rare treat to peek into your wonderful, quirky and enduring friendship. The music–good, bad, and oh so ugly–was a perfect trigger for all those memories. I’ve often felt, especially these last few weeks, that one or both of you was living inside my head. And not just because western New York and southern Maine seem like cultural doppelgangers! As much as I’ll miss this blog, I’m eager to see what comes next for each of you. MK, your ruminations on becoming a foursome–or, more accurately, the end of being a threesome–precisely echoed my angsty last month of pregnancy. Things surely will not be the same, but we have to believe it will better. That’s our leap of faith. (Seven weeks in, I can also attest that some things are indeed worse; crying in stereo is a sound you never get used to!) TGOTS, I’ll be following your eloquent fumblings over at the new blog. I’ve been especially nostalgic lately, thinking mainly of past beginnings (even grad school is starting to get that lovely patina in certain lights!) and the sense of possibility and potential for change that accompanies a new venture. Here’s to resurrecting a bit of that youthful optimism for our middling years! (And to coming up with an infinitely better term for the later greater 30s. Ugh.) In the meantime, I wish you both balmy summer days racing through the streets, blasting the radio and singing along for all the world to hear.