goth – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

I Can’t Sing. I Will Never Pretend I Can

Years ago, I was in Durham and on the phone with my dad. I let him know I landed and was at my hotel. Even at my age, I have to let my parents know where I am. Sadly, my dad’s been gone for over a decade. Maybe he knows.

Anyway, I said, “You know I used to sound like John Lennon. Now I sound like Paul McCartney.” He retorted, “You make all the young girls cry.” He didn’t mean I sing like Barry Manilow. He meant my voice would make anyone cry. He’s right.

Sure, I wish I had the voice of Bono, Ian Curtis, David Gahan, Peter Murphy, Robert Smith, or the Moz. Oh, and the two Beatles I mentioned. They were gifted. There are many others in my boat. Far too many. But sadly, some of them think they can sing. I attend many events where we sing by the campfire or as part of our religious services. There was a guy there who used to like to sing and dance. He often said he was shocked that people didn’t recruit him from Lincoln Center to sing at the opera house or in the other theaters.

What do I do? I sing along or use their time up there as the time for a bathroom break. Some of them sing fast. Some drag it out. What should take 3-5 minutes turns into 45 minutes. That’s a lot of time in the bathroom. But it also gives you time to run over to the kitchen and get tea.

But then there are the personalities. The opera star had none. Some of the others are wonderful people. Some retired. Some working. They mean well. They want to sing. I still want to pitch for the Yankees. I blame my mother for never signing with the Bronx Bombers. That’s really a joke. Steinbrenner would have never signed me. Rightfully so. But these days, I might play and be better than whom Hal and Cash have signed.

How do I pick which “concert” I attend? There are places I go where those leading can carry a tune. But they are not friendly. In some cases, they are downright nasty and mean. I used to alternate. I recently decided I’d rather let my ears suffer with poor singing, as opposed to suffering unfriendliness.

Nostalgia

How Music is the Driving Force

Over the last few weeks, I saw performances by Paul Simon at Forest Hills Tennis, Bon Jovi at the Garden and Joe Jackson at the Beacon. Future shows include Squeeze at Radio City Music Hall, David Byrne at Forest Hills Tennis, Sting at Brooklyn Paramount and Belinda Carlisle at Palladium Times Square. I hope to see more. I do have a few Yankees-Red Sox games on tap.

All brought back memories. Or, as my mom said, nostalgia. Bon Jovi’s on-stage commentary put it best. He said, let’s party like it’s 1999. We all know Prince, whom, sadly, I never saw did that. Bon Jovi said Let’s go back to 1986. He references when his hair was a little fuller and his jeans were tighter. He continued, saying that all of you listening to me now were much younger back in the day. Probably all in high school and now we’re older.

As I listened to him, I was blasted back to my high school job at the Greenridge Plaza McDonald’s and when we closed the store. We all brought cassettes to put into the boombox to blast while we cleaned up. Remember cassettes and boomboxes? We had one of our managers, Uncle Dave, or Disco Dave, with his choices. Others had their choices. We used to fight over what we’d listen to. We heard a wild mix of Bon Jovi, the Cure, David Bowie, Cinderella, Depeche Mode, Genesis, Guns & Roses, Love & Rockets, Madonna, Mötley Crüe, Poison, U2, Van Halen and Wham. I liked most of it. Couldn’t stand and still can’t Cinderella, Mötley Crüe, Poison and Van Halen. Plenty of other acts made our playlists. They were either on mixed tapes, or albums that we pulled in and out of the boombox. We did not have the luxury of Apple Music.

Hearing Bon Jovi pushed me back to those days. I had visions of us in our uniforms scrubbing the grills, sweeping and mopping the floors. It made me think of the times we hung out in the parking lot after we closed. In our cars, we played what we wanted. In front of the stores, some of us had beer. Not me. I did nothing. That’s usually the case.

As for Paul Simon, I wasn’t around for Simon & Garfunkel’s heyday. I did see their reunion tour in the 2000s. I have seen Simon solo a few times and saw Art Garfunkel once at the original City Winery on Varick Street. As Simon played songs from the “Graceland” album, it reminded me of being driven to Scout trips, particularly our winter ski trip—my first- and only-time skiing. I did not do well.

It also reminded me of when I played music all night and kept my sister up in the next room. I made mixes. Most of the new wave and goth bands. But had to include the classic rock tunes. Elton John, Billy Joel, and the Beatles made the cut. Billy Joel was my first concert. I called in sick when I was supposed to close McDonald’s. I got to the former Brendan Byrne Arena with my family. Seated a few rows behind me were several of my coworkers. No one said a word about my illness.

I constantly listen to the Cure. Many times, I flash back to what was perhaps my first date, seeing them with the Pixies and Love & Rockets. We were too young to buy beer. Not that would have as I was driving. We had M&M’s at Giants Stadium.

All of the other bands mentioned do something similar. People who knew me in college often say they remember my Cure and Depeche Mode posters hanging on my dorm room wall. Sid Vicious hung on my room’s wall at home.

Good music, particularly the best generation of music ever, the 80s, is the driving force of keeping things going.

Dan’s Attacked With Moldy Bread

Jerry and Gili were playing quietly. Gili was getting bigger. Jerry watched over her. She was strong. She still loved her milk. Sarah and David Benjamin were eating their baby food. Anat was briefed on their superpowers. She was ready. She expected her day with the twins and her kids to be relaxed.

The Drop on the Cyclone, Luna Park, Brooklyn, NY

She played Bauhaus the Cure in the background. She understood the kids would listen to whatever they wanted when they got older and developed an appreciation for music. But she wanted to push them towards goth. Who wouldn’t?

Anat was working on her taxes. In a switch from his usual beat of Staten Island’s south shore, Dan was out in the frigid weather patrolling Coney Island undercover. His expertise was required. Nothing unusual was happening. The Coney Island Polar Bears were in the water. People were eating hot dogs in Nathan’s, and parents took their bundled-up kids to the NY Aquarium. It seemed like a normal winter day at the beach. He texted Anat he’d be home in about two or three hours and asked if she wanted him to pick up pizza from L&B Spumoni Gardens. Of course, she said yes. Saying no would be criminal.

The polars bears were exiting the water. Near the Cyclone, some kids were goofing off. But nothing Dan had to address. As he walked back to his car, he noticed a tall girl, about 18 or 19, wearing a stained blue sweatshirt with the name “Christy A.” running down both sleeves. She was taunting some of the other kids. Dan figured it was just a group of kids goofing off. He didn’t see it as a threat. Until he saw moldy, stale bread flying at some of the kids. One piece clocked a girl in the head. She fell. He raced over to her to see if she needed help. Bread with larvae was flying everywhere. He saw Christy A. shooting it out of her mouth and hands. He yelled at her to stop. She started to jump up and down. Pieces of bread almost nailed him in the throat. Christy’s hair was fire red, as was her face. He pulled out his weapon and fired three shots. All were knocked down by bread.

Christy raced toward the subway station. Dan chased her. She nailed him in the eyes. He temporarily lost his vision. She hopped on the F line. She did tap her OMNY card. At least she didn’t jump the fare.

Dan immediately texted Anat. You’d think he would have texted the Coney Island Precinct that is in the subway station at Stillwell Avenue. He knew this was something that Anat and her “family” would handle better.

100 Years or Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Does Music Make a Difference When Shooting and Editing Photos?

By Mitchell Slepian

Hello, readers. As my regulars are aware, ninety-nine percent of the time, the images in my stories have been shot and edited with my Nikon camera. As Paul Simon sings, I like to take photographs. My Kodachrome sits on a table next to an old Nikon that was a workhorse and is now out of commission.

Sheepshead Bay by Emmons Avenue – Edited to Sir Elton

When shooting and editing, I always have songs in my head. One of my all-time favorite songs is “100 Years,” the opening track on The Cure’s “Pornography” album. It might be the darkest, most goth album of all time. I listen to it nonstop. Here’s a taste of Robert Smith’s (The Cure’s founder, lead singer, and possibly the best songwriter ever) lyrics. “It doesn’t matter if we all die. Ambition in the back of a black car.” I listen to lots of other great artists. Some are happier than The Cure. Of course, some are just as dark. Here’s a partial mix: Bauhaus, David Bowie, Billy Joel, Depeche Mode, Erasure, Sir Elton John, Joy Division, John Lennon (probably the best musician of all time), Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, The Psychedelic Furs, The Smiths, Siouxsie and the Banshees, U2 and The Who. And the list goes on.

It’s not unusual for me to have some of these lyrics floating through my brain when I’m shooting. “Confusion in her eyes that says it all. She’s lost control. And she’s clinging to the nearest passerby.” – “She’s out of Control,” Joy Division “Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her. Slashed her wrists, bored with life. Didn’t succeed, thank the Lord.” – “Blasphemous Rumors” – Depeche Mode “Back to the howling old owls. Hunting the horny back toad” – “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” – Sir Elton and “Before you cross the street. Take my hand. Life is what happens to you. While you’re busy making other plans” – “Beautiful Boy” – John Lennon. He always nailed it. They all do.

One can be sure the songs in my head while I am shooting affect how they are taken. I might adjust the ISO and F-stop based on how I am feeling. In case you were wondering, I do not listen to music on my iPhone. I hate headphones. I used to wear my Walkman’s headphones slightly above or below my ears. Sometimes I still do that with headphones when I am Zooming or watching things on YouTube. Songs always go through my head. It gets me through the days. Or as Robert Smith says, “In Between Days.” That’s on the “Head on the Door” album.

Bees Fetching Honey – Edited to the Cure

The other day, I was editing some images from Emmons Avenue, Sheepshead Bay and the New York Botanical Garden while listening to Sir Elton. Then I switched to a mix of The Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, Erasure, and Psychedelic Furs, Siouxie and the Banshees. Erasure brings back memories of camp. The Cure, Erasure, and the Furs bring back old memories of dating and driving around in my old Caddy with the girls I liked. We usually listened to those bands. My first date was to see The Cure with Love & Rockets and the Pixies as the openers. We were too young to buy beer. We shared M&M’s. I still think about all of this when certain songs play.

Look at the images and see if you can tell the difference. This was written and edited to Led Zep’s “How the West Was Won.” With final touches while listening The latest from The Cure: “Songs of a Lost World.”

Alana’s in Pain

Alana’s looked like she was about to burst. She and Marc were chilling in his camp. Why they were there, no one knew. Even they couldn’t figure out why they weren’t home. The two had no clue where the nearest hospital was. Marc remembered a few hospital runs in camp after they went to Action Park. Someone always got hurt.

They had a mix of Adele, Joy Division, the Cure, U2, and Depeche Mode playing, and even a little Billy Joel, Elton John, the Ramones, and Beatles made the setlist. The fire was burning. The weather was perfect. Marc kissed her. He was very nervous. Their doctor didn’t know of their powers. They had no idea what would happen when the baby was born. They did their best research by reading Star Wars books.

Alana’s water broke. She was in the leanto that Marc slept in during his summer years. She was on the floor on top of a green blanket. The cots were long gone. She started to scream. March began to shake. Wi-Fi was nonexistent in this part of the camp. Due to the connectivity issue, they couldn’t find a video on YouTube showing how to deliver a baby. It was too late for Marc to get her into the car and use Google Maps to guide them to a hospital.

Alana’s face was redder than a tomato. Marc was pretending to be an OB/GYN. She screamed. No one heard her. Or maybe someone did. Suddenly lightning flashed. She cried. Clueless, Marc was holding her ankles. He almost fell. As Marc was falling, a hand pushed him back up. He freaked. He turned around and saw the Woodsman with his herd of buffalo. The Woodsman motioned to Marc, who stepped away. A buffalo waltzed up to Alana. It looked at her. Alana’s eyes froze. She laughed. Suddenly, a boy and a girl popped out. They were perfect.

Marc is Busy at Work

Marc was sitting in his office. He was pleased that his website updates took. He began writing some corporate statements. He has yet to respond to the headhunter from the other day. The job market sucks. So, who knows what roles are real and lasting? It’s too bad he can’t be a superhero for hire. He goes about his business and takes of business. He often has to work solo. But loves it when he and Alana tag team. Toss in Anat and Jerry, and they are unstoppable. They are their version of the Fantastic Four.

Everything was so quiet. It was late Friday morning. Marc was wondering what he and Alana would do Friday night. She’d light candles. She probably got the usual takeout dinners. The two of them sometimes cooked. It was an experience.

Alana texted him that she just bought a challah and was gonna cook salmon. Marc texted back his approval. The market was tanking. What else is new? The Cure was cranking on YouTube. “Disintegration” came on. It brought him back to the 80s and his first date. He took Laura to see the Cure at the former Giants Stadium. The Pixies and Love and Rockets opened. It was a night of darkness. They loved it. The two were too young to buy beer. They shared M&Ms and held hands. She kept saying how angelic Robert Smith’s voice sounded. Still does. He remembered Depeche Mode dates with Dina and Erasure with another girl. And all the shows he saw with Alana. They will continue to see many more. Of course, he saw a few shows with Jen. Some of these women were camp girls. Not his. He went to an all-boys camp. The girls went to the typical jappy camps. Anat and Jen met and had their first fight at one of those camps. It was the only time Jen ever beat Anat. She didn’t yet have her powers. For the girls in those camps, it was who had better clothes. The guys in those camps weren’t much different. Marc was more rustic and met the best people ever.

His group was extraordinary. Anat fights with dried fruit. This delicacy played a significant role in Marc’s camp. As did dairy products, voodoo, and resting. Sometimes things went wrong. But everyone was always very apologetic for their wrongdoings.

Just as “People are People” came on, Marc hit send on the document to senior leadership. He anxiously awaited their response. He sipped his water and again checked MarketWatch. The Dow was lower than earlier. Don’t even think about the NASDAQ.

About an hour or so later, his inbox lit up with comments. Minor edits were made, and the document was approved and scheduled to go live Monday morning. Marc grabbed his coat and headed to the subway.

He approached the station and saw some madman spitting at people. He usually stayed away from these crazies. He knew he could stop them. But too many people filmed these individuals.

A young child was spit on. The guy was throwing things out of his pockets. The kid’s mom was in tears. She looked like a sweet young woman. She was dressed like the girls from the camps Marc’s girlfriends went to. Alana didn’t bother with camp. She only went one summer. Alana was the mixed-up cutey in all black. She kept to herself and listened to Joy Division. She’s still mourning Ian Curtis’ death.

Marc couldn’t let this kid get hurt. His mom was shaking. He walked up to the perp. He told him to stop and leave the poor little boy alone. The guy tossed a bottle at Marc. He then launched a decrepit old sweater. Marc ducked. The guy got closer to him. Marc shot pomegranates out of his eyes. He loved the feeling. He always wondered what Palpatine felt like when he was shooting Force lightning. The assailant fell back. He rose back up. Marc nailed him with honey. It hit him in the eyes. He fell back. Marc fired a few pomegranates and wished Alana was here to fire her apples, wine, and figs. Marc saw that guy was not getting up anytime soon. People were circling the nut and taking pictures. Marc used that as his chance to run down the stairs and catch his train.

Jay’s New Woman

Jay was tired of being beaten by Alana, Anat and Marc. To add a bigger insult, his kid, Jerry, was now beating him up. Jerry is only in first grade at the Dwight School. Jay knew Diane was cleaning herself up and wanted nothing to do with him.

Jay decided to go to church one day. Diane was heading back to shul. She was taking everything slow. Jay liked some new woman—a goth chic. Anat and Alana are as goth as it gets. Marc floats between that and his Brooks Brothers, Lacoste, and Ralph Lauren classic prep look. Musically, the superheroes are all on the same beat. Jay’s a metalhead. We know Anat went to Stanford and loved Mike Mussina.

Jay and Kari, his new chic, were fighting. The two of them are cut out for each other. Both are super dumb. The two were getting high on the beach. Someone told them to leave. Jay wanted to be tough in front of Kari. He fired glass at the guy who wanted him to get away. Jay was laughing as he was beating this poor man down. Kari was laughing so hard. Her fat belly shook. Her piercings were shaking.

The man was in a lot of pain. Jay wouldn’t let up. All of a sudden, Jay was drenched in merlot and Chenin blanc. Alana was running on the boardwalk and heard the man’s screams. She looked over towards the ocean and saw what was happening. Alana was angry. She hates it when people break up runs. She worked hard at staying in her perfect shape.

Jay shot glass at Alana. Kari was goading her guy on. She thought he was cool. Kari was so stoned she had no idea what he was doing. She saw Alana run down to the beach and tried to trip her. Big mistake. Alana belted her with figs. She fell on her fat butt.

Meanwhile, Jay was ready to fire broken glass at Alana’s face. He wanted to see her black lipstick and eyeliner turn red and blood flow all over her Joy Divions top and shorts. Glass exploded from Jay’s fingers. Alana saw it coming, shot Malbec at it, and knocked it back into Jay. Guess who turned blood red?