Back in the late '90s until leaving there in 2000, I wrote a weekly newspaper column about music, radio and whatever back in Troy, Alabama.
After going through some old files on a CD dating back to that time, I found this. It was a column I intended to run, but for whatever reason(s) I went with something else. Suffice it to say I was "in a mood"..............
This is about love, comittment and pneumatic attraction. It's from a guy out on Pocosin Road, and here's what he writes:
Dear Talmadge: I am writing to you with deflated sadness and I feel as if all the air has been let out of my soul.
You see, I'm not a very social guy, and never dated much while in high school or college. People would make fun of me, calling me "Mr. Alone All The Time Cannot Get A Date To Save His Life So We're Going To Laugh At Him."
But deep inside, I dreamed of companionship. That special someone who would complete my life. I tried putting a personal ad in the Citizen, "Single Unsocial Recluse Outcast Male Seeks Woman To Have A Happy And Prosperous Life With." Unfortunately, as fate would have it, the ad ran next to Talmadge Gleck's "Disc-Claimer" column, and never got read.
Then one day, my life changed. I was checking the mail, and amidst all the pre-approved MasterCard applications and Have-You-Seen-This-Missing-Person postcards with pizza coupons on the other side, there was an unmarked package. I opened it, and found an inflatable life-sized female doll. At first I was hurt and angered over this cruel joke. Someone HAD seen that ad in the Citizen, I thought.
But I dug out my old bicycle pump and I gave this woman her life. And she gave me mine. I named her Ariel. But to me she was just "my sweet Air" Ariel and I did everything together. We took rides around the countryside, just my Ariel and me in my ‘91 Ford Tempo. It got to where Ariel was a big help flagging down tow trucks when the car broke down (an almost daily occurrence).
We first declared our love for one another on a picnic table down by the lagoon behind TSU. Well, actually she didn't say anything -- my Ariel was not much with words -- but her air valve popped out. For me, that was all I needed to know. She loved me just as I loved her.
All Summer, it was my Ariel and me. Two soulmates who had the world on a string ... and I was carrying the balloon.
Then, tragedy struck. Ariel and I had an argument ... I caught her one night trying to slip out the back door. I asked her why, but she just clammed up and wouldn't speak. Not a single word. Then, in a fit of rage, I plunged a bacon fork into her arm. At first, I figured I could patch things up with Ariel and, with a little more air and TLC, she would forgive me.
But it didn't work. Before I was able to reach for the duct tape, my Ariel zoomed out of my arms with the force of the expelled air. I tried reaching for her, but she got tangled up in the ceiling fan in the den. My Ariel ended up in about 238 pieces on my den's floor, right in the front of the TV.
I was stupid, I was a fool, and now I'm lost without my Ariel. I could get another one, but it would not be the same. She was literally the air that I breathed.
So, Tal, would you please play "Imaginary Lover" ... and dedicate it to Ariel, who has gone to that great air compressor in the sky. It was our song, and it will remind me of the great times we had.
Poindexter ... here is your longshot dedication!
Chris Cornell, My mom, and Me
5 weeks ago