How could he have wooed Elizabeth with an Air Supply mix tape … successfully?
(unreleased material from "GLORIFIED DISASTERS" by Ashley Strand) Glorified Disasters
Feb 3, 5pm Crocker Memorial Church 1260 12th St, Sarasota, Florida 34236 Buy tix here: https://www.sarasolo.org Stratton had wooed Elizabeth with an Air supply mix tape -- successfully! How? He could do anything.
And when she broke up with him she gave the tape back. I’ll never forget finding him in La Bombe, wistfully listening to I’m All Outta Love. I’m lying alone With my head on the phone Thinking of you till it hurts I know you hurt too, But what else can we do Tormented and torn apart You cannot imagine the power of this moment. It was our first adult interaction. I heard the music, so I knew he was thinking about Elizabeth, but I didn’t know what had happened. My only thought was to tease him and make fun of him for Elizabeth being weird and gross and a girl. But I came over and he just looked at me with this face. He said, “please, Ashley, I just want to be alone with my tape.” I was stunned. I had never seen Stratton in defeat. Immediately, I had complete reverence for the moment. I said, “I’m sorry, Stratty,” and crept away, crouching down a short distance from the car, so I could watch him. I had never said, “I’m sorry,” to my brother and meant it -- without being under some sort of coercion from my parents. He had never said, “please,” to me. The Checker door hung open, Stratton twisted the toe of one shoe into the gravel of the parking lot, his head lolled against the rest, his young Adam’s apple protruding, as he stared into the distance, weeping. It had rained that day, and as I watched, the clouds parted and the sun broke through, suffusing the mist that hung above the parking lot, the soccer field, and the trees surrounding with a golden light. NOW. When I tell you my brother Stratty could do anything, believe me when I say he seemed a tragic hero --while listening to Air Supply! He could do anything! Maybe he wasn’t a tragic hero; but he was my hero. That’s the one thing I can’t forgive Stratty ... not that he was my hero and abused me in front of everybody, but that he really made me love Air Supply in an inappropriate way. You don’t understand the imprint-like effect this event had on my just-budding notions of romance. Listen, I’ve been trying to replace I’m All Outta Love as my anthem of heartbreak with a good song, like Bell Bottom Blues, or Hallelujah -- something! I’ve quit cigarettes, alcohol, most drugs, and God willing, some day I’ll beat the porn, but there’s no program for soft rock! Air Supply’s just a gateway: Dan Folgeberg, Gary Wright, Loggins and Messina, Seals & Croft, it doesn’t matter -- shit, I’ll listen to Bread if I have to! He doesn’t even know what he’s done! The other day, he actually had the gall to call me and say, “hey, do you know what I just did, I just saw the touring production of Mama Mia!” I said, “I have to hang up the phone now!” He said, “No, listen, it’s even better than just listening to ABBA because the story’s so good!” I said, “haven’t you done enough? Do you even know the difference between good campy and bad campy?!?” I hung up the phone. But later that same day, who do you suppose was humming, Take a Chance on Me? These are my scars. |