(TV) Re: Intro to TV

[secretX@webtv.net]

I first heard Marquee Moon when my first boyfriend, a rock critic,
insisted that I listen to it. He said Television was in town. He wanted
me to go see them. I said I couldn't because I had to get up early for
school the next day. He said he needed me to help him get a photo of the
band. (He was young and shy and I'd often have to go backstage as "bait"
to interest a band in being photographed.) So we went to see Television
at the Keystone in Berkeley. Tom played a translucent guitar. Between
sets I knocked on the backstage door and Tom came out. I asked him if he
wouldn't mind being photographed by my friend. Tom ignored the request
and started bombarding me with all sorts of interesting questions. Later
that night I was asleep and the telephone rang. It was 2 AM. It was Tom
asking, "Did I wake you up? Will you come to my hotel?" I said, "I
can't, I'm sleeping." He said, "Tomorrow then." I said, "Tomorrow is a
school day." He said, "Cut school and come as soon as you can." So in
the morning I took the BART train under the bay to San Francisco. Tom
was in his hotel room eating a banana. We spent two days in bed. (We
didn't spend a night together, only days. I left at sundown and came
back the next day.) Tom was handsome, inquisitve, and he seemed simple
like a hayseed. It was lots of fun and incredibly intense. We talked and
talked. He told me it was the only time he'd asked a girl to his hotel.
He asked me to go with him to Los Angeles for the next show but I said I
couldn't. Then he was gone. I wrote him letters. The next time we met he
was in town promoting Adventure. (To my delight he'd quoted me from my
letters: "Blah, blah, blah...") He suggested I move to NYC. Eventually I
did. We had many intense times, some exhilarating, some fun, some
turbulent, some confusing, some tragic, some in this apartment. It would
have been perfect if only there weren't a constant underlying angst, an
insecurity that perhaps was related to his feelings of inadequacy
stemming from the fact that he didn't have much money? I didn't care how
much money he had!! I wanted to live the spartan bohemian life but he
was afraid I would be swept off my feet by a rich guitarist I'd met, one
of his influences. ("I go for your check but your check has been
paid...So many go to bended knees for you....Cinderella with a new
treat...These influences I'm under...have stolen...."). He was wrong but
the doubt gnawed at him, I realize now as I listen to those old songs.
I'm sorry I wasn't more attentive. I should have been more
compassionate. I really did love him very much but I was too young to
know what to do. I guess I blew it. On the other hand, the angst which
gnaws at him is probably intrinsic. The angst is what fuels the
dissonance of his music. He'd be angst-ridden with or without me. It's a
deep down thing.

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