Fame is a Fickle Dude
In Which the Prudes Bid Integrity Farewell and Aim for (and at) the Stars
I am a wearer of many hats. I’ve worn the hat of a camp counselor, playwright, grocery cashier, journalist, and nanny, to name a few. But my proudest hat, excluding the elegant cap of the Prude, is that of the songwriter. It is true! I am a bard, a troubadour.
In recent years I’ve cast myself rather headlong into the music scene, gushing my emotional bowels out upon audience after audience. I’ve been writing songs since I was sixteen, when I first picked up a guitar and strummed an original murder ballad in an attempt to impress a boy. I am unashamed to admit that much of my best creative work has been done with the purpose of impressing a boy. Using the power of song, I have impressed at least one boy into marrying me, and I arguably impress my child (also a boy) each day with my intricate, ever-evolving original composition entitled “You’re My Chunky Boy,” an epic piece that will someday reach the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Like any independent artist, I am constantly looking for ways to improve my craft and appeal to a wider audience. For this reason, I occasionally dip my toe into the pool of popular music. Pop girlies, as you know, are enjoying a Renaissance, and rather than writing them all off as airheads, I look to them as potential guides to gaining the world stage.
I’ve taken notes on many a girly pop song, and I can place them squarely into two categories: the Obscene and the Obsessed. The first category is rather self-explanatory. Personally, I foresee no success in going the obscene route, seeing as every double entendre I’ve ever made has been an accident. The second category of songs are written by the love-lorn, relatable girls, the confessional songwriters bleeding themselves out on the page. These are the 26-going-on-16 Taylor Swift proteges who write lines like “you left your book of poetry on my nightstand/and your t-shirt on my floor.” Even now, married with children, I find myself thinking “same, girl!” when I hear a line like that. This is mysterious, considering that the only laundry on my floor is my husband’s socks. Also, did I mention that he was my first kiss? And that it happened in my twenties?
This power to move a woman’s spirit, despite all her actual circumstance, is intriguing. I’d like to be able to write like this, but the problem is I’m just too darn happy with my life right now. General misery is a prerequisite for the Obsessed songwriter. So I’ve created a device to help me in my quest for girlpop fame.
His name is Robert. I have no ex-boyfriend, so I decided to make one up in order to inspire my songwriting moving forward. He is tall, dark, handsome, and the root of all my problems.
Robert is famous, because the common thread among famous breakup songs is that they are about famous people. Robert is an actor, which is why he was able to be so two-faced and make me miserable. Robert is intelligent, witty, and a reader of poetry (this is required!). He wears t-shirts to indicate that he is relatable despite his sophisticated mind and very large bank account. Also, he wears them so that he can leave them on my floor.
Robert is older than me, because he has to have taken advantage of my innocence when he wooed me and betrayed me. In one of the songs on my Robert Album, there will be a line referencing this age gap, and it will be the sucker punch that really gets the audience foaming at the mouth.
Robert is my greatest regret, but also our chemistry was like magic. In my song “Magic,” I will write positively about Robert, and about the many many t-shirts he left on my floor, and the t-shirts that I left on his floor, and we will all wonder how I was able to walk around with all those t-shirts lying everywhere.
The truth is, I’m not able to walk around. Since Robert betrayed me, I have spent every day crying on my bathroom floor. This is at least partially because there’s no more floor space in my room, due to the t-shirt situation.
Oh, and one other thing about Robert—he’s got a new love interest. Let’s call her Tina. She is also famous. The timeline is fuzzy, but Robert and I were together in August, and now we are not, and he is with a new girl. I have a heart, so I’m not over Robert, but it seems like he’s over me because he has no heart. As much as I want to hate Tina, I just can’t, because girls support girls. So I will write a song warning Robert’s new girlfriend Tina about all the ways that Robert can hurt you if you aren’t careful.
I can go on and on about Robert, but I don’t want to give away too many details about our relationship. Our relationship was and is very private and personal to me. I will leave at least one very obvious detail about his identity in each of my songs, but that’s it! No more. And if you ask me direct questions about him in interviews, you’re very rude, and frankly, sexist.
I’m very proud of this new songwriting device. I didn’t expect to get as emotionally attached as I did, but I find Robert very handy for blaming all of my relational issues on. I was so young when he hurt me and made me cry and I still have his t-shirt in my closet, so you can’t just expect me to be ok all the time. At least this is what I tell my husband, who is very confused. But the good news is that my new album, The Robert Sessions, will be out next year. I’ll hit the Billboard charts before I know it!
—E.S.F.
Release You're My Chunky Boy!
Hahaha! How to become a female pop star. Effie is on her way!