Doors
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Marge came home with a Doors CD. She though she would please Chuck.
Chuck was always talking about the Doors.
She put it in the CD player and loaded a pipe and toked some great weed.When Chuck came home, Marge was high.
"Marge, there's no beer," he said.
"I've got some good weed in the pipe and a Doors CD."
They sat on the couch and smoked and listened to the CD.
“Marge, somehow it doesn't ring true.”
“Chuck, how would I know, I wasn't born when this album was made.”
Chuck put an early CD compilation of the Doors in the CD player.
“Damn, Marge, it still doesn't sound like what I remember.
“I'll make dinner. Later maybe we can listen again, said Marge.
While Marge made dinner, Chuck hooked up his old Gerard turntable. He went in the basement and found his vinyl records. There it was, the 1967 release. The debut Doors album with Light My Fire. It was a well-worn copy. Nicks, scratches and dirt covered the surface. Chuck brought it upstairs and put it on the turntable, but did not put the tone arm on the record.
They ate dinner mostly in silence.
“Great meatloaf Marge. You are the best woman a man could have.”
“You could get lucky with comments like that,” said Marge.
Chuck washed the dishes and took out the garbage. Marge walked the dog.
When Marge came back with the dog, Chuck was talking on the phone with his brother in Denver. She could tell because the f-word was front-and-center.
Chuck's brother was a through-and-through Republican. Chuck was a rank-and-file Democrat. Two Chicago brothers, one had diverged from the party faithful.
Chuck poured a big glass of scotch after he hung up with his brother. They were the same in every way except politics. Marge was always jealous that his brother was more favored than her.
“I thought we were going to listen to the Doors,” said Marge.
“My brother always derails me with politics,” replied Chuck. “Let me finish my drink and then we'll listen.”
“I think I need to take the dog to the vet.”
“Why?”
“He's had diarrhea for the last three days.”
“That happens every time you hire that Jamaican housekeeper. I think she feeds him jerked pork.”
“I hadn't thought of that,” replied Marge trying to avoid a confrontation.
Chuck put down his drink and loaded the pipe. They had two tokes apiece. Chuck put the tone arm on the record.
They sat in silence and listened.
“I don't think it's much different than the CD I bought today,” said Marge.
“Are you deaf? It's completely different,” said Chuck.
Chuck played Light My Fire again.
“I still don't hear any difference,” said Marge.
“OK, I'll play the CD.”
Chuck played the CD version of Light My Fire.
“Did you hear that? Now listen to this” Chuck played the LP.
“OK, Chuck, I hear a difference. But nothing startling.”
"Jesus Christ, Marge. Yes, there are scratches and skips, but the soul of the record is there on the vinyl.
“Yes, Chuck. You are correct. I have to go to sleep. You know I have to get up at five-thirty.”
“That's a cop-out.”
“No, Chuck, I hear what you say, but I'm really tired and I'm afraid the dog will have an accident in the night.”
“You're just saying that to avoid a confrontation.”
Marge got up and went upstairs to the bedroom. Chuck started the LP again.
No fires were started.
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Author's Note
The laboratory of human relations.
This is very funny and as an early Doors fan I can totally relate. *
Very nice. Unfortunately, I can absolutely see this.
Thank you Gloria. Music can be a tough mistress.
Steven: Thanks for that great comment:"Unfortunately, I can absolutely see this."
Sarte or Albee? I can't decide. *
Thanks Jake. Sometimes the doors of perception get foggy.
“I thought we were going to listen to the Doors,” said Marge.
“My brother always derails me with politics,” replied Hank. “Let me finish my drink and then we'll listen.”
“I think I need to take the dog to the vet.”
~
Good form this piece - Great pacing. Also, like the change of the actual album's title and song list. That works - "Hank put down his drink and loaded the pipe." & "No fires were started." [That's a great closing. Yes.]
Side note: Absolutely agree with the notion here that "the soul of the record is there on the vinyl". Digital is clean and sharp - too clean, too sharp. Has no soul.
Enjoyed this piece. Good read. *
Sam: Thank you for your insightful comments. I received numerous e-mails from readers about the digital/analog divide. As someone who worked in the audio business for the last 30 years, I've heard it all. For film/long-form-TV digital is great because they typically use 150-300+ tracks which in analog would be untenable. Digital works great. No one makes analog pro machines anymore, parts for old ones are custom machined or found from odd-lot jobbers. The crime is not that digital can't make a nice sound, but that the public is happy with MP3. I worked for the Met Opera for the last ten years at my job. The recordings in the studio sounded great. The release on DVD's and CD's was less than stellar. I couldn't stand to listen to MP3's or equivalent.
Certainly in my in-box there are some fires, but only small ones.
A French composer friend had his latest composition released on vinyl. A he told me, I'm lucky if I sell a thousand recordings per release. Well, his vinyl became a great turntable hit with the DJ crowd. He sold over 40 thousand.
The story, as I had to explain several times, is about perception, as in Huxley's The Doors Of Perception. Not so much The Doors the group, and marriage.
But too much dissection kills the frog.
Thanks for your long comment and reading my humble prose.
My cat, Franny, Francis, was a Doors Man. I REALLY liked reading this story. I felt inside a story, fiction story, not imagining anyone's real past life, yet being there, for the first time in A WHILE. Hank Chenanski, made me think of by first name, and I thought Hank might have had a Marge, a sign of his emotional presence in this story. My favorite part is after their (perfectly pitched0 dialogue, he goes downstairs to get the vinyl, that sign of persistence and quest that I, too, undergo around the house in rechecking sources, especially, old and new books. He loses her totally after getting jazzed for a fight with his brother. I like the brother interlude. He forgets the soul of the vinyl quest to take the call. Diagnosing the dog's complaint as due to the maid's choice for dog food -- why am I noting this? It's a great story with nice style/form. *
Thank you Ann for the wonderful comments. I hadn't really thought of Buskowski's alter-ego Hank Chinaski, but wanted a male name that was sharp with a hard ending to contrast to Marge which is a softer long-sounding word.
The trigger was listening to Terry Gross's 1998 interview with Ray Manzarek, keyboardist with The Doors.
Ann-I changed Hank's name to Chuck to concur with my other Marge stories and to get away from any Bukowski allusions. I love Bukowski (especially the poetry), but don't want to be a clone.