For anyone who's ever wanted to be a girl in a song, or to fuck the lead singer
rkb:
what does it say about me I wonder that I wanted to be a girl in a Dylan song, a sad-eyed Sara or an artist who don’t look back or one who made love like a woman but broke just like a little girl - loved (if you could call it that) then left by, or leaving, an irascible pothead poet with no social graces but an ear for lyrical beauty, someone as mysterious to me as, ultimately, I would prove to him, someone who could take my fuck-ups and make out of them something people would want to remember, someone who may hate me but would never forget me.From “Mary, Queen of Arkansas” by Diana Joseph (part of her memoir I’m Sorry You Feel That Way) - read a longer excerpt on her blog:
At age fourteen, what I wanted to be most of all was applauded, and if that wasn’t possible, I wanted to be a girl in a Bruce Springsteen song. A Jersey girl. A girl named Sandy or Wendy or Candy or Cindy or Sherry, Rosalita or Crazy Janie or Mary, Queen of Arkansas. A girl idolized by an intense and poetic man who had curly dark hair and brooding dark eyes and who wore a clean white tee-shirt every day. I spent hours in my bedroom, kneeling as if in supplication before my Emerson stereo fully equipped with AM/FM radio, cassette player, and turntable. I played the warped and scratchy Springsteen albums I bought at a garage sale.
