She Talks to Angels

The basement smelled of musty carpet and damp plaster. My chest tight, body anxious, watching my best friend Hannah and the Landreau’s youngest son, Matt, making out in the corner. Penny was playing the ancient WWF pinball machine with Steve. I knew they wanted me to hook up with their friend, but I was less certain about that than I’d been about the neon yellow Champion sweatshirt and pegged jeans I’d worn to the party.

“Hey,” he said, clicking a cassette into the boombox. “Have you heard this?”

I’ve forgotten his name, but those guitar riffs? They’ve stayed with me forever.

My Blog Can Beat Up Your BlogMy friend Lance is offering up a challenge: I give you a song, usually under 4 minutes, then you give me exactly 100 words inspired by the tune. How the inspiration manifests, is up to you.

This week’s song is She Talks to Angels by The Black Crowes. I was 13 when this song was first on the radio, and while this isn’t precisely memoir (more a pastiche of memory and fiction), it captures the essence of me, awkward and unworldly, in middle school.

24 thoughts on “She Talks to Angels

  1. As I am exactly your age, I am fairly sure I was there! Also awkward and pegging my jeans. And the boy? I’ll bet he turned into quite the Lothario, already using music to pick up the pretty girls šŸ™‚

  2. I was the one with the music, or at least arguing with someone play it.

    I love the details. The sweatshirt, the wwf pinball machine, the jeans.

    excellent 100. Leeroy will dig this one

    1. Atmosphere, indeed. Hormones so thick you could slice them, and that awful damp, industrial carpet smell. I wouldn’t go back, but there’s a kind of silly nostalgia about it.

  3. I love the setting of the stage, and the carry through with this line – “I was less certain about that than Iā€™d been about the neon yellow Champion sweatshirt and pegged jeans Iā€™d worn to the party.”

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