Back in the day, CD Rogue made me a mix tape. Yup-- a a real tape: a magnetic strip of joy and metaphors, ala Annie Lennox and Neil Finn, spun on spokes of electrical battery-charged goodness. Of the material possessions I would save in case of fire, that tape is one. Who needs diamonds when you have the gift of song? Music is so personal, and yet so public. Gotta love a paradox. In any case, been thinking about what mix tapes my characters might have on hand, and their theme songs, if you will. Maestro? Be so kind. I've limited the lists to three. Many of these I've used in the past, but was fun listening again.
Not bad, not bad --really nothing to complain about. Misty, chilly, great sleeping weather in fact. But often I find myself as restless as a fruitfly on a one-day shore leave, and my lifespan is 23 hours. Just have to get done what I can, and sleep can wait. No rolling over under warm covers today.
Ceniza is restless. Maybe a change of clothes...or weapon style...or another monster slain, or herb gathered will satisfy. And while trying to ignite the world with her power, she's feeling a bit fizzled out...she gets the fluff and tinder smoldering, it catches, and then the rains come, the oxygen diminishes, and her competitive nature to bring fire, to control it, is once again humbled, humiliated even, by more powerful forces who remind her, again, like a lesson she cannot learn, that she is merely a catalyst, the stick and not the spark, she made nothing, created nothing. Only the gods are allowed to dance with fire--she is here by invitation only. She bested a hunter with her abilities yesterday, but not the rogue. Never the damn rogue.The rogue with the amazing daggers and skills--he also reminded her of her place. She blinked into walls, and he noticed and laughed at her clumsiness. Mages are tricksters, fire mages especially, but they are also prideful. Tease them enough and at some point, you might get burned. She knew he meant no harm, it was her ego that was weakened and bruised. Not his fault.
She would never be great, only good. Only good enough. She wondered why did these over-powered fighters ask for her company? It certainly wasn't for the challenge, for they bested her every time. She didn't know, and tried not to care--if she wanted to be powerful, she supposed she could, if that were her only focus, and all else fell away. Antiguo Amor looked up at her, and tried to get her to smile by blowing smoke rings and jumping through them. He created his own entertainment. Shouldn't she do the same?
Ah, the ships of the shores of Ashenvale. The lavender sky embraced the indigo treeline, transparent periwinkle stars freckled the universe with wine kisses. Ceniza stood on the prow and waited for it to set sail with unusual patience for her. The moment of serenity passed, and off she went. This ship was going nowhere.
When the tasks were done, the goals met, she put on her finest robes and went to Booty Bay. Ah, it is so beautiful here...the temperature a perfect 24 C/75F, winds from the North to balance the humidity, and the goblins were friendly. They looked at her admiringly, appreciatively, and unlike the citizens of Stormwind, respectfully. She could be so stupid sometimes--what was keeping her from living here? She could go anywhere in the world in her portals, and if she made this her home, her hearth, she could come here anytime. The innkeeper took her reservation with a minimal amount of gruff, she drank a bottle of junglewine, and went straight to bed. If you want to find her, look for her in the Salty Sailor Tavern, just under the gryphon master, next to a large hanging shark in Booty Bay.
Most of you have turned off the soundtrack of Azeroth eons ago. You need your focus for Vent or Mumble instructions and conversations. A few weeks ago I purchased the soundtracks because I still love the music in Azeroth--there are riffs that break my heart, ones that make me nostalgic, and ones that make me want to dance.
So, it was a lovely evening, northwest light staying longer, trying to do something, somewhere.
Love Led Zeppelin = but no Stairway: Party on, Wayne. Party on, Guarf.
And...guildmate had music on...
And...it was...
Journey.
I grab my nearest knitting needle and kill the horror that is Steve Perry out of my brain.
And...
I don't think it's too hyperbolic to state that late 70s/80s music, the vanilla, visionless rock can drive a nice shaman to eat ground glass, no milk. Perhaps I am doing a disservice to vanilla.
Everyone likes what they like, and music is incredibly personal. And I am not quite as elitist as perhaps the protagonist in High Fidelity by Nick Hornby may be: I can sing along to a Go-Gos song or Romantics, because what I like about you, you know how to dance, when you go up down jump around think I found true romance (you're welcome).
But the art and courage of a mix tape should not be lost. I realize crude metallic tape to pound out grooves, and petroleum based materials are no longer used but shiny shiny shiny circles are, which are replaced by even smaller and more powerful etched space, but the song remains the same: our personal soundtracks rock. (And if given a choice, Danny Elfman would write the score for mine.)
Preferring Pretenders and Police to Motley Crew and Scorpions, I like my music a bit more - something else. Cowboy Junkies and Cocteau Twins, kd lang, INXS, Roxy Music, Peter Gabriel, RHCP, carried me to Nirvana*, Garbage, Beck, Weezer, Radiohead (though I usually can't finish a whole song- don't know why), James Brown, Pink Floyd - not so much anymore --and Rich F., wherever you are--thank you for learning the first hook of Wish You Were Here...and everything is frosted with Crowded House/Neil Finn. Beatles, naturally. Love me some Los Lunaticos--Los de Abajo, Desert Fish by Oojami, Presidents of the United States, millions of peaches, peaches for me, millions of peaches...peaches for free...
And those barely cover it, but those may be my go-to's. Belly dancing and Latino music when I need to dance, Neil Finn when I need to sing along, and turn it up to 11 because, it goes to 11.
Now every time I see my friend Lolan I sing the Kinks' "Lola" to myself...she walked up to me and I asked her her name and in her dark brown voice she said LOLA...L O L A lola...l...l...Lola...
And the music in WoW can be beautiful and haunting, too. And annoying. But every time I fly around Howling Fjord I feel like I'm in a Ken Burn's Civil War documentary. The tavern music is especially festive and fun. So, here I am with open arms, asking you to never, ever play Journey again. Or I may have to counter-attack with my rendition of "Since I've Been Loving You." Off pitch.
