Petersburgian Case File #17: Kids These Days

Ahh that'll never get old. Dated? Oh incredibly, but I imagine it was about five minutes after it came out. Old, however? Never. Moving on...I got to bed fairly late last Saturday because, well, you know I was out hittin them Russian nightclubs, a shot of vodka every time they played a Gogol Bordello song.* Well it was either that or I actually got back home around 11pm and then was sitting at home catching up on the latest season of Louie. One of the two for sure. Not sure which though. Crazy, crazy night.

I have nothing snide to say about this man. He is absolutely wonderful.
I did originally want to put a Gogol Bordello picture here but honestly even the least ridiculous picture of him I could find seemed just way, way too broad and outrageous for a blog that, comparatively, enjoys showing an iota of self-restraint.

Point being, I was tired and hoped to get a good night's rest seeing as tomorrow was Sunday, the lord's day, the sabbath. Instead I am woken up fairly early by incredibly loud music being blasted outside my window and squeals of joy and merriment from little kids in the courtyard below.

You are by far the literary character I most identify with.
Bill Murray, that is. I mean, honestly, have you heard about the things he's done? That guy cannot be real.
On a Bill Murry related tangent I am quite upset that I shall no longer be in Russia come February if only so that I could post the same blog entry twice and have it be seen as cute and creative rather than just lazy.

Apparently there was some concert-y fun morning day thing going on for children and it just so happened that it was occurring right outside my window. But I mean I am not here to complain - St. Petersburg once the fall sets in can start to become a dreary town with its many a cold, rainy, cloudy days, so the sound of jubilant youngsters was a very refreshing wake-up call. Its the music that was being played that caused a double take in me because, well, when one things children one thinks:

*shudders*

Or, with the slightly older and slightly less developmentally advanced, one thinks:

A note of clarification: by that first slightly I mean slightly, and by that second slightly I mean significantly.

Less often though one tends to think of this:

He does birthday parties and bar mitzvahs too! Horrifying, horrifying birthday parties and bar mitzvahs!

And yet that is exactly what I woke up to on Sunday morning: Tom Waits' voice. Now let me be clear here in case you don't know this about me (and considering that this gets brought up fairly often, unless you are one of those strange page hits I get from Germany every once in a while** you probably already know) I really love Tom Waits. Absolutely adore him.*** Which makes waking up to his music, in Russia, coupled with the sound of children squealing to be one of the most bizarre and surreal and easily bordering on the nightmarish were I not so pleased with it, experiences of my life. I want to imagine this wasn't a fluke. I want to disregard that this song may actually appear in the soundtrack for the first Shrek film (which begs the question what the hell a song with lyrics like: "I like my town, with a little drop of poison / Nobody knows, they're lining up to go insane" doing in a children's film?) and just imagine that this is what life in Russia has done to these 5 and 10 year olds - harden them all into profound, dark little bastards who only derive pleasure from smoking, drinking, standing on a cold bleak September morning in the rain, and listening to Tom Waits being blasted from a speaker. I want to imagine that the only faults they find in songs like "The Piano Has Been Drinking" and "Bad Liver and a Broken Heart" is that Waits does not go far enough to accurately describe their existence. I want to imagine Waits playing a seeding St. Pete nightclub filled with 4 year olds drinking bourbon straight out of bottles. For the last number Waits invites them all on stage where he gets down on his knees and, arms wrapped around their shoulders, sways with them as they all sing "Hoist That Rag" and "Innocent When You Dream". And yet, nevertheless, there are people who tell you there is no such thing as paradise on Earth.


*Disclaimer: blogger.com, all blogger.com affiliated, and come to think of it this writer himself, as well, strongly, strongly discourage playing the aforementioned shots game as almost any human being attempting to do that in a Russian nightclub would undoubtedly be dead within a half-hour. 

** In which case: Guten Morgen! Freut mich, Ihre Bekanntschaft zu machen. Schraubenschlüssel teutonischen Rittern Apfelkern glücklich lebensbejahend grüne Lüge Löffel ablecken diese Untergang Parodien sind ziemlich komisch. Send your mistranslation complaints to google.com!

*** I still don't love Hell Broke Luce as a song, I'm sorry Nick - if you're reading this out there - I just, I can't get into it as music I get that the lyrics are powerful I don't argue that but - honestly I could easily sustain a many hour conversation about Tom Waits and by could I mean have. Nonetheless we best have some more Waits jam sessions when I get back - if only to scare the neighbors.