Watched Chipper Jones tonight, leaning against the railing in the dugout in Kansas City, waiting for his chance to get into his last all-star game. The 40-year-old is standing beside Bryce Harper, the 19-year-old rookie from the Washington Nationals and the youngest ever to make an all-star team, and he's got a shit-eating grin on his face. The only thing you can think that he'd be laughing about would be some story about male or female genitalia coming from one of the younger players in the dugout. It's the stuff of boys, even if they are millionaires and professional baseball players. It was either tits and balls sorts of things or someone sat in a big wad of bubble gum and we're thinking it was the latter. Jones, while an old man, by athletic standards, might have reverted to juvenile humor there amongst the boys (and of course there's no REAL way of knowing so it's neither an implication nor a convincing story), but likely when he went home to his family tonight, he was a different, more distinguished father and husband. My wife often suggests that our house would be a mess if I didn't have her around. She's probably right, but I still fight the accusation, believing that I'd surprise her, even if there was no her to surprise. What I'm trying to get at is that there's no real way of knowing what we'd be like if the people around us were different.
It seems to be that the members of Deleted Scenes might be a little spazzier were it not for a few people who have existed in their lives. There are even hints of this on their newest record, "Young People's Church Of The Air," which just recently came out on Park The Van Records, though they are slight, perhaps just well camouflaged. Lead singer, Daniel Scheuerman, has fun with words and with titles, but with "Bedbedbedbedbed," he makes it known that there's someone out there that straightens him out like an arrow. The song goes like this:
"You are an immaculate girl sent from above
you are everything that I want, my love
my heart is filling up
I am alive
a raisin reattached to the vine
revived
won't you crawl into my bed
I will thee wed
you are a miraculous song in my head.
We live in difficult times
I fell behind
I did some shit that I can't deny
But you are a merciful girl
you helped me back
you cut my hair, and you cut me slack
won't you crawl into my bed
I will thee wed
you are a miraculous song in my head.
Your eyes do a thing where they talk
you turn me on
I can't always say what I want... hold on.
I am a tenuous man, eroding sand
but you are an impetuous girl
oh man, amen
won't you crawl into my bed."
The shit that he can't deny and the adderall that he's familiar with elsewhere point to the potential for men to be ragged and slapping along, off the tracks, playing grab ass, but therein lies the opportunity for someone to change all that, and give you the haircut you've been needing.