Date Night

Last night, the sons were both out for the evening and we had the house to ourselves.

My husband turned on the Jimmy Fallon Show, which was showing clips from the forthcoming documentary about the making of Exile on Main Street. We are both card-carrying lifelong fans of the Rolling Stones, and children of the 60s, so it was a real treat for us.

As we watched grainy images of their ramshackle mansion in the south of France, where the Stones fled to escape taxes in the UK, I was reminded of Gram Parsons. In a documentary about Gram Parsons, his time with Keith Richards in France is recounted at length by a narrator who notes that in the end, the Stones got tired of Gram and sent him packing when they decided to go on tour. For a time though, Keith and Gram were musical soulmates and spent all their time together, singing and playing guitar.

I said aloud: “Poor Gram, the Stones chewed him up and spit him out.”

Mr. SW took issue with this and said: “Listen, you can’t blame the Stones for what happened to Gram Parsons.”

Me: “Yeah but I’m just saying, when Keith got through picking his brain they booted him out.”

(Now, I realize that no one gives a shit about any of this. But bear with me.)

Mr. SW started acting like the Stones’ defense attorney. I in turn became Gram’s attorney. We traded increasingly tense arguments on our clients’ behalf. At some point I exclaimed, “Hey, I love the Stones, I love Keith, he’s my fucking style icon, I’m just saying that it probably hurt to be treated that way! I’m not saying that it made him go kill himself in Joshua Tree for god-sake!”

The show ended and Mr. SW invited me to follow him to the bedroom.

We lay on the new Sears Deluxe Firm Pillowtop bed and the argument continued.

Mr. SW:  “Oh poor little Gram, trust fund kid….”

Me:  “Oh god, why bring his trust fund into it! That’s not his fault! Look at Mick Jagger, he was upper middle class…”

Mr. SW:  “No he wasn’t, his father was a gym teacher!

Me:  “FINE, he was middle class, firmly middle class!

Mr. SW:  “Then don’t say upper middle.”

Me:  “Well, you don’t have to get nasty. You said trust fund in a nasty way. It hurt my feelings.

Mr. SW : “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just saying that you can’t blame the Stones, Gram was big boy, he knew what he was doing.”

Finally, I started to cry.

Me:  “I love Gram Parsons and now he’s dead and so don’t be mean to him!”

Mr. SW:  “I’m not being mean to him, I’m just saying the Stones didn’t kill him.
~

The evening ended harmoniously. I hope the subject never comes up again. But Mr. SW has pre-ordered the reissued Exile on Main Street. Maybe we should renew our marriage vows before it arrives.

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33 Responses to Date Night

  1. jools says:

    Sister Wolf! I’m so glad to hear both sons went out for the evening. I’m hoping that means Max is firmly on the mend. I think of him all the time. As far as style icons-I took the Stones’ album cover to a hairdresser to get a shag like Mick’s (pre-Klute). Did you see them at the Palladium? Little Stevie Wonder opened the show. (am I allowed to say awesome? Back then it would have been far out)
    Your blog has been rocking btw.

  2. TheShoeGirl says:

    I heart you real hard.

  3. Sister Wolf says:

    jools – Was that the one with the stupid dragon thing?? I saw that one, and the one at the Coliseum with Guns&Roses. I bet your hair looked great!

    TheSHoeGirl – Why thank you, Shoe Girl! I heart you back, xo.

  4. sarahwl says:

    i’m with your Sister Wolf! Gram seems to me like one of those people who never really grew the armor that comes with being an adult, and I, in turn, find myself endlessly sticking up for him around my boyfriend. boyfriend thinks the feigned innocence was Gram’s modus operandi for gettin’ with the ladies. ah well, i love Gram and i will always stick with him. did you know his father drank himself to death AND died in jail on Christmas night?! good lord the poor kid!

  5. theresa says:

    aw if this was facebook, I’d like this. Gotta see this documentary. I was raised on the stones.

  6. Siouxsie Law says:

    Brass Buttons makes me think that Gram didn’t have the easiest childhood. Brass buttons, green silks, and silver shoes. Warm evenings, pale evenings a bottle of blues. Trust fund, no trust fund. Sad.

  7. Sister Wolf says:

    sarahwl – Does your bf want to get together with my husband?

    theresa – It looks great!

    Siouxsie – and the tiny golden pins that she wore up in her hair. Haunting. xo

  8. Aja says:

    A long time ago, in a land far away, I had a boyfriend. We used to argue over some stupid shit. I thought there was something wrong with us because of all of our ridiculous arguments. Turns out everyone does it and we were just normal. The end.

  9. David Duff says:

    “Finally, I started to cry.”

    Typical! It’s the way you ‘wimmin’ win every argument, you’re all so sneaky and underhand. Please pass on my commisserations to Mr. SW and tell him that I just know he fought the good fight even though he was never in with a chance!

  10. dexter vandango says:

    Mr. Duff.. while I understand where you’re coming from to a degree.. please do not so cavalierly condemn women’s tears. They have their toxic emissions and we have ours… and usually theirs are a result of ours.. although I admit it is annoying when they turn on the water works at a simple observation that Colin Farrell looks like a miniature bully..

  11. hammie says:

    Had many a late night you’re wrong, no you’re wrong ruination of “date night”
    and it really ruins it for me. But the other party is usually dumbfounded that I don’t want to play after being insulted….
    xx

  12. I’ve got to say Mick Jagger was a very fortunate middle class kid! Easy to mistake for upper …his family obviously had pretensions to the upper levels!

  13. David Duff says:

    Dexter, stop sitting on the fence! As Lord Chesterfield said of sexual intercourse, “the position is ridiculous”, and anyway this fraternising with the enemy will get you nowhere, they never show mercy – as this blog demonstrates. It’s war, man, and no quarter must be given even if the enemy does possess the weapon of last resort – tears – and thus we are bound to lose. Dammit, Sir, “Play up, play up and play the game!”

  14. dexter vandango says:

    Alas, too late, Brother Duff.

    I’ve been trussed and gelded years ago. Besides the best way to defeat a woman is to surrender to her. They hate it when you give up too soon.

  15. Jill says:

    Come do it with us in Key West…the marriage vows…just to clarify!

  16. Cricket9 says:

    Dear Sister, you reminded me of many many mornings, afternoons, evenings and nights spent on arguing with my ex-husbands about, well, about everything. They both were stubborn as hell, and so was I. I still prefer an argument to the stony silence applied by my father to all the family when he was pissed off about something. He would not talk to anyone for, on the average, three weeks; I guess he believed in collective responsibility.
    Mr. Duff, I have to say that Dexter has much better understanding of the situation…no mercy for you, muahahaha!

  17. dexter vandango says:

    See, Brother Duff? If you want to kiss their asses ..you have to kiss their asses..

  18. I love a good argument on most any topic.

  19. Cricket9 says:

    I do, however, agree on Colin Farrell.

  20. jd says:

    Cricket9 – do we have the same father?

  21. Braindance says:

    I agree about Colin, very astute observation about the shouty “actor”
    Saying that though, the only person who clapped with any gusto after I finished Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious at the local pub’s Karaoke night, was a poor girls Colin Farrell. Everybody else just looked confused

    Crying to win, classic girl manoeuvre, and I am sorry to say, but I do not know who Gram is…

  22. David Duff says:

    Kiss arse, Sir! Never, dammit, like the brontosaurus, whose extinction I shall almost certainly emulate, I will go down fighting – or drowning in a sea of tears!

  23. Cricket9 says:

    jd, I don’t know – anything is possible! Too late to ask him… Tell me more, so we can figure it out!
    Mr. Duff, try it, you may like it.

  24. Silke says:

    been following this blog ‘silently’ for a while… now you love the stones! i officially love your blog now.

  25. jd says:

    Cricket9 – hmmm…well mine is still (stonily silently) here…I would dig deeper but I would hate to interrupt this record he seems intent on setting – almost 8 months now! If only my mother would take a leaf out of his book…

    It’s posts like this that make me miss having an other half to bully into submission…by any means necessary Mr. Duff.

  26. Cricket9 says:

    jd, I think that maybe they were spiritual twins, or something, but wow – 8 months! My father longest uninterrupted silence was about 6 weeks; I don’t remember the crime one of us (me and my 2 brothers) committed at the time. My mother was forever moderating, but it annoyed her for years; I’m an atheist, otherwise I’d believe that she achieved martyrdom…

  27. Taylor Grey says:

    I think since I was not around for a Rolling Stones passion to take ( I was merely a goal in my grandmother’s life) and I still like them, I shouldn’t pick a side. So, I choose the side of the Stones’ kids. Aka – Team Alexandra Richards / Georgia Jagger / etc. (:

  28. Andra says:

    Sister, you finally used “lay” correctly. You’ve made my day!
    I know, picky, picky, picky.
    Can’t help myself and I’m too old to change.
    Love

  29. Maggie says:

    I would give anything to see these guys live. I’m a little late, but I think it would still be worth it.

  30. I love Keith too but in this argument I’m on Team Gram.

  31. Ha, Max, looks like Mick is totally jealous.

  32. Jim says:

    I’m with you – Gram gave everything he had to the Stones, he was a loyal, sensitive and fragile. And then comes old wolf MJ seeing Gram too close to Keith so he has him kicked to teh curb. The sad part is Keith let it happen. No the Stones didn’t kill Gram but they didn’t help him either. But what to expect, just look what they did to Brian.

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