They've got cars big as bars

Today I did something I've been meaning to do since early Friday evening.

I found the "Fairytale of New York" mp3 and played it. On repeat.


I think Andrew thinks I'm playing when I say I don't want to sing something.

Like the_forecast telling me I can do Super Smash Bros. Melee, and then watching me not even manage to choose which character I'm going to be.

Or like comradexavier telling me Risk is easy and everyone can figure it out, and then me crashing and burning almost immediately because I have no talent or skill at strategy.

My boyfriends should listen to me more.

I'm sure Andrew did listen. I know he heard me say "But I don't know the words!" ... but he also probably saw some glint in my eye or something, because I love "Fariytale of New York," and verlaine even said once that it's his favorite karaoke track, and how can you argue with an endorsement like that?

Well, you could try I don't know the words. But I wouldn't recommend it; that one didn't work for me. In many other respects Andrew knows there's a difference between a good song and a good karaoke song--he often says himself that he doesn't want anything to do with melodies, because he can't sing them--but if it's about me, he's never impressed by professed incompetence.

Maybe that's because my reason is unique: the whole point of karaoke is that it tells you the words. But it tells you them in a way that can be pretty unhelpful if you're half blind!

The first part of the song is easy: a couple long slow verses, all sung by Male Voice. Ha ha. I stand around and watch. demiurgician thinks there's something wrong with me. I wait. But then it gets fast! And I think Oh shit! That's when Kirsty MacColl starts singing...! And I still have no idea what the words are! I probably could read them off the screen--I can always read them--but not soon enough to do me any good!


"I told you!" I shouted repeatedly at Andrew afterwards, but it didn't help.

He tried to tell me all the words, "Theyvegotcarsbigasbarstheyvegotriversofgold," but since he did it just like that, with no spaces between the words, I had no idea what he was talking about. So that didn't help either.

But I don't want to give up on the song just because that sucked, I told myself. I shall do my homework.

So that's why I played it four or five times now (mostly while I took a shower, which is good because everyone can sing in the shower). I'm better at the lyrics now, but I feel a little weird. Approaching the song as homework made me forget what a fucking good song it is. I'd make you all listen to it, if I could.

And a little weird because Andrew and I sang it together, too. It was fun to get to call him names--especially "You scum bag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot," which just rolls off the tongue; try it!

And after that comes the line that the whole audience screams at Shane MacGowan in the live version we have somewhere. "I coulda been someone," he sings, all rough and charming and Irish, and then Kirsty MacColl or everyone in the world or me comes back with "Well so could anyone!" ... a harsh truth, even when set to lively folk chord changes.

Then Female Voice sings, "You took my dreams from me, when I first found you." Any time when I haven't just listened to this song a bunch, I'd probably just blow this off, but now I have to remind myself this is not real. No one took my dreams from me. Songs I sing at karaoke are not my life. I just never had any dreams in the first place...

Male Voice's reply is "I kept them with me, babe. I put them with my own. Can't make it all alone. I built my dreams around you." And then, though I still hear the rough voice of a man known for many songs and few teeth, I see someone else.

And I'm sure I would have thought of him even if we'd never sung it at karaoke, if I'd ever actually bothered to think about it.