jedijetboy Registered User
Posts: 64
(8/23/01 1:52 pm) Reply
what some guy named Teek wrote
at the NF message board there's handfulls of idiots and one or two cool people. Teek is one of those cool people, and he wrote this, and thought it impressive enough to post here. I also post it here because of how familiar it sounded--sort of errie. I'm not saying your style fygmynt, is "Common," or anything--not at all! WHich is why I find it strange that Teek writes, what I appear to be, close to your style. But I could be, and proabably am, way off. interesting though, and a good read, (if not a bit indulgant) Nelly fan or not.
Even when I was a teenager, I never really had strong loyalties to any specific musical artists or groups. And
when I watched MTV shows like "Fanatic" and "Becoming..." I was fascinated by the amount of heart the
fans put into their devotion to their favorite musician. I couldn't comprehend feeling such strong adoration for
the distant, unreachable singer behind the song no matter how much I enjoyed the music.
Yet now I find myself captivated over one album. When I listen to Nelly's music I am mute with awe,
motionless and mystified, as though I'd been walking along a moss-covered trail through sunlit trees when a
nymph suddenly sprang forward and hugged me tightly and ran off giggling. Sometimes a song ends and my
breath comes up short in my chest, which aches but not with pain, like I was a child still smiling and gasping
after having been tickled to tears on the picnic blanket by affectionate parents trying to wear me out before
the fireworks start. When I sing along to the "myself" litany at the end of "...On the Radio," my voice forgets
that it's poor accompaniment and struggles to somehow merge with the harmony in my headphones, as
though a friendly passing spirit decided to grab my soul by the hand and take him for a stroll across the
surface of a lake while I tread water.
And no matter how many times I am wrenched back to my bedroom (where it turns out I've been all along,
imagine that, with four walls and an actual body) by the empty electric hiss at the end of the CD, it's not a
nymph or a spirit or an angel I think of... something far away and unreal. It's not even the tune itself that
sticks with me, as might be the case with some catchy number with words sung by a pretty voice but
written by someone else. I think of Nelly. And it's like she was just there, sitting in her sock feet and leaning
back against the pillow, drinking a Fresca and laughing when I stumble over the lyrics or make up my own.
She left just before I opened my eyes, and I could swear the pillow is still warm.
I can try to explain it away and tell myself that Nelly writes her lyrics and sings her songs from the heart. I
can nod at the thought of her soulful voice and poetic words striking a chord within me. I used to think that's
all there was to being a fan. I couldn't ever figure out the part about wanting to meet a celebrity, someone
you'd never met, and telling them how much you love them, but I figured I just didn't get it.
I get it now. I've already met Nelly Furtado. Being a fan means missing her when she's gone.
...i have caught shreads of understanding
and moments in the place
where the life of an ancient olive tree
and a mayfly
are equally long
in a way that has nothing to do with time...
Re: what some guy named Teek wrote
wow, that was neat, and i think i see what you mean about his style being similar to mine. i suppose i could imagine myself writing that. hmm...
hey vivers, you seem bitter recently...very anti-obsession, anti- to the point that you see it where it might not exist. what teek wrote doesn't seem obsessive to me at all, just enthusiastic. did you have a bad experience with something along these lines? perhaps that would explain your recent vigilance?
Re: what some guy named Teek wrote
you know who i live with, you know what i posted at the aqmb. you should know why i'm so anti-obsession.
...i have caught shreads of understanding
and moments in the place
where the life of an ancient olive tree
and a mayfly
are equally long
in a way that has nothing to do with time...
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