Right now I’m writing as the deliciously drawn out crooning of the chorus, “Shady Love, Shady Love, Shady Loooooahhhaahhhaahhhvvvveee” echoes through my speakers.  I feel a certain vibe right now, so I decided to try my hand at writing to music.  Most of the time, I don’t.  Mainly, because I need to think and the music can be a big distractor for me.  But, today I’m trying to write WITH the music to see what it does.

 

The number one author who writes to music in my book is Stephen King.  If you’ve read his book, “On Writing” you’ll know that writing to music is a common practice for King.  He writes to the heavier stuff:  AC/ DC, Guns N’ Roses, etc, I believe.  And I’m paraphrasing here, but I have this distinct memory of what King says about writing to music, “I use it as a way to wall off and go deeper.  I use the music as a way to shut the rest of the world out.”  This makes perfect sense to me.  Next time you read King, think of some hard rock, as you read.  It’s not hard to see that the “tempo” of his writing is consistent with that type of music.

 

“I want to get my Shady Love.  I’m gonna…I’m gonna…I’m gonna get my Shady Love.”

 

That’s what I’m hearing right now.  It’s a new song from the Scissor Sisters, which means the vibe of this post should be decidedly gayer.  As I’m writing right now, my thoughts are of clubs, cocktails, scantily clad men in sequenced speedos – you know, Go-Go boys.

 

Everyone likes pretty things…

 

And that thought process reminds me of the movie trailer I’ve been seeing lately for Matthew McConaughey’s new film, “Magic Mike.”  It looks like “Showgirls” with dudes.  It’s basically a Chippendales movie as far as I can see.  Wifesy and I watched the trailer and we both said, “That movie is CHA-CHING…It’s going to make dough.  Every straight girl in Peoria and Tucson is going to go see it.”  Then Wifesy said, “Sh*t, I’m not even into that dude-stuff, but I might want to go see Matthew McCoughney shake it.”

 

I was VERY surprised by her comment.  So surprised that I did a spit take with my pellegrino, which burns by the way.  You see Wifesy and I are married – awesomely and willingly – into a lifetime of each other’s “lady gardens,” but we’re not dead.  We still have eyes.

 

I just didn’t think McConaughey would be in her taste range.

 

Matthew in “Magic Mike.”

 

If I were to talk about a man I wouldn’t mind seeing scantily clad it would be someone dirtier.  I like dirty-sexy dudes.  You know, like a Benecio del Toro, but without the arroz con pollo belly or a Gael Garcia Bernal basically doing anything.  He can be eating a Sloppy Joe for all I care.  I’d watch him do anything.  Fine, it’s clear I have a Latin fetish.  So, if I were to define my perfect Chippendale, it would definitely be a naked man with the stage name, “Fuego.”  He’d probably be in firefighter gear.  I know, so hack.  But, a vag does and thinks what it wants.  It’s the heart that keeps things all committed-like.

 

…or maybe something like this. “Hi, Papi!”

 

These are the thoughts that flit through my head as I write this.  Gay club on a beach thoughts.  Sun, surf, go-go boys, and Charlize Theron.  I don’t know why Charlize, but let’s face it, as my current boss says, “Charlize is like a perfect cough drop.”  I suppose that means he wants to suck on her for hours?  I don’t know.

 

THE cure for the common cold.

 

God only knows where my thoughts would go if I were listening to Enya right now.  This would probably be a weepy post about my vag and my feelings and the plight of the almost extinct mountain lion.  Thankfully, for you, I’m listening to Jake Shear sing and shake his man-parts around.  And let me tell you, he uses those man-parts as if they were maracas when he performs.  One may even be out of his shorts.  The man doesn’t care and I respect that.

 

C’mon, this is so good. So good!

 

I’m in a wheely chair at my desk, typing, and shaking my lower half.  Literally, if you didn’t know me, and if I were in a video right now, shot from the waist up, you’d think I was taking some kind of wheelchair-bound, jazzercise class in my apartment.  I’m giving that shaky-bottom exercise chair that lets you hulu at your desk a run for its money.

 

What a-hole invented this? Sometimes I think they create these things just for comedians.

 

So, what about you?  Do you ever write to music or do you need it quiet?  Let me know below.  And just remember if I were into dudes, I’d want this to steal a line from the new Scissor Sister album to describe my wants… “(I’d want) a man who smells like coco butter and cash…”  But, I’m not, I’m into Wifesy, who thank god smells like fresh bread and a warm duvet.

 

Okay, not really, but you know…I was listening to music when I wrote this.

 

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Photo credits:  ellen-chair, scissor sisters, theron, latin-hottie, matthew, go-go boys, feature