The email from my country writing mentor slaps me in the face. “A real man wouldn’t say that”, he says. I don’t care about being a real man; I just wanna be who I am.
When I fired up my songwriting application this morning, there it was, in my face again…a whole section on the Bible. I bristle at the expectation that I share in this fantasy.
But it’s worse than that…it is cultural to the core..
My waitress has an old fashion hairdo…in pile on top of her head…I ask for some hot sauce …she says in a polite southern way that they are almost out because a bunch of black people came through…wtf!
And when did trucks get hijacked for country use only? Ok, I drive a Prius but I have nothing against trucks. They are very useful if a bit expensive on gas.
And country music…damn…there is a theft if there ever was one. The lonesome wail across the Scottish highlands now belongs to the southern conservatives…fuck that I say…I am going to go all Jason on them and steal back the golden fleece…California Country here we come…wailing dobros and fiddles, not one mention of God or country, men with emotions…
