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I have no shame and through this recent process of self-discovery that some, or one of you really for that matter, are aware of, I'll admit it..I'm so tired of harboring this dark secret that's weighed me down for so many years...I like country music. I don't care how many friends I lose through this admission...because if you do ditch me...I'll just drink a can of Bud and turn up the Garth Brooks even louder...afterall I've got other friends and they are in "low places". Garth is where it all started. Back when I was doing a brief stint of Ivy League eductation no less, a classmate introduced me to the twangy charm of Garth Brooks' music. The jaded urban hipster in me resisted at first but who can deny songs about drinking, marital woes and truckin, for too long...it's all the same when translated to the Brooklyn hipster daily grind of getting a good latte, dyke drama and riding the F train. Eventually I began to find myself in those songs, not in a ten gallon hat, leather boots and bolo tie but in a Joy Division t-shirt, checkered Converse high tops and manic paniced red hair. It's all good...and when it's not there's always a Reba McEntire song to soothe the soul. Cuz I might have been born just poor white trash but Fancy was my name goddamit! Labels: Music |
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