This song popped up in my playlist after I transferred a bunch of songs from my old phone. I’m sure a lot of people who remember Nirvana and Kurt Cobain will remember him as a musical genius. I don’t know about all that. I think Nirvana was about being at the right place at the right time. But that’s neither here nor there. Today I’m going to dissect the song lyrics to “In Bloom,” not line by line, but rather by each concept. Back in the 90s I wasn’t into them enough to sit down and think about the lyrics. But as I listened closer, I realized this is a song about an adolescent boy’s adventure in masturbation. (Lyrics in bold)
The song opens up with the words “Sell the kids for food.” It’s an awful thing when a parent has to sell a child during times of unbearable famine. It was and apparently still is a real thing. But here, figuratively speaking, the food represents his appetite for sex and the kids are his sperm. So what is always the end result of a male masturbating? Ejaculating. He is sacrificing his future children to suppress his appetite
“Weather changes moods” – Have you heard of Seasonal Affective Disorder? It’s experienced in mainly the fall in winter months and is described “feelings of sadness and depression that occur in the winter months when the temperatures drop and the days grow short”. From experience, I can verify that when Ryan doesn’t orgasm for two days minimum, he starts to get really cranky, and I mean super cranky. He starts to blame me for the empty gas tank in the vehicle that only he drives, for using 5 towels after I shower, and for eating the other half of his Cinnabon…eight years ago. The point is, he starts to become irrational and upset at the smallest things if he has not had a chance to release his demons. In the song, the masturbator has gone at least 5 days in the same “mood,” which explains his crankiness, i.e. weather-induced mood change. And after 5 days of being in “winter,” he’s ready for the weather to change.
When the weather changes, “Spring is here again,” it’s because he has finally orgasmed. He now feels like himself again. He’s no longer a Gloomy Gus. He’s not down in the dumps, or frustrated, because he has just masturbated and can face the world fresh without having to worry about trying to get laid, all thanks to his “Reproductive glands.”
“He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs” – The pretty songs is all the flirting, use of pick-up lines, and sweet talking he does to try to sleep with a girl. “Hey, girl, you know you want some of this,” he says as he points crudely to his crotch, forcing her to cringe as he directs her down his imaginary happy trail. He’s so oblivious to what it takes to actually meet a female, so he says whatever he hears on “Jersey Shore,” and calls every girl that rejects him a grenade. He’s so immature. “And he likes to sing along” because he flirts non-stop with every girl who will listen. He doesn’t know how experienced guys flirt (a.k.a. the lyrics) and even sounds like he’s never heard the song before. Nevertheless, he will talk his game until one day he gets the song right and the game he talks will actually work. Regardless, “[and] he likes to shoot his gun, but he knows not what it means” I’m torn between what a gun is here. It can either mean his penis shooting out semen or his mouth shooting out every cheesy pick-up line he’s every heard, not caring for anything except for the hope that someone will fall for it.
But, like the seasons, the relief and pleasure from a good orgasm is cyclical. Ongoing. It won’t stay warm forever and hunger must be fulfilled because “We can have some more.” Why? Because semen is continually being replenished. His gonads are making sperm non-stop and because of this he will always need to get it out. It’s in his nature to masturbate. “Nature is a whore” because a guy is constantly thinking about sex/masturbation, Mother Nature makes him pimp out his semen to feed his sexual appetite. When Ryan strokes his dick, there’s not necessarily “Bruises on the fruit,” but definitely chafing, minuscule tearing, and redness. Sometimes the coconut oil falls of the edge of the table and we just don’t see it. And even with lubrication, the constant rubbing on the penis can take its toll on a guy. It happens. But this doesn’t deter him from stroking his bald headed baby Jesus.
I can only imagine how hard it is to be a horny guy in his “Tender age in bloom” because he hasn’t bloomed yet (manhood). He spends a lot of his free time masturbating. A lot. I shudder as I recall the times I’ve walked in on my brother, who, for the life of him, hadn’t learned to do it when no one was home let alone lock the door. I didn’t anything I wasn’t supposed to – thank God. All I remember was the walking on him for the THIRD time, shutting the door immediately, walking back to my room, and sitting on my bed, completely baffled by what I was forced to encounter. Seconds later he walks in, I’m staring off in disbelief.
He fumbled his words. “Look…I…” he started to say.
I shake my head. “I mean…WHY? Why can’t you just lock the door?”
“You could have knocked!” he tried to reason.
“What the hell! You were just putting groceries away with me 8 seconds ago! That’s barely enough time for a cowboy to get bucked off a bull!”
He laughed. “I’m sorry!” He reached his hand out apologetically.
“Stop! Go wash your hands!”
That little story was, unfortunately, based on actual events in my life.
*Guitar solo* – The guitar solo is the young man in his room, strumming alone.
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This is the list you will never see in Cosmopolitan. These suggestions are not for women who are squirmish or still feel sex has a lot of dirty aspects. I actually wouldn’t suggest these techniques to any woman who isn’t married and totally in love with her man. However, our readers can decide for themselves if they want to give their lovers moments that they will never forget. These are the moves that will make him say, “She was the wildest woman I have ever had in bed.” Whether he stays with you forever, or he moves on, he will never forget you.
I listen to Pandora at work. A lot. It helps me get through the day not to mention keeping me awake. I recently added an 80s hits station because sometimes I need to do the Carlton in my office to an era-specific type of music. Today, I heard the distinct synthpop intro of Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” trickle through tiny mesh metal speakers on my standalone work PC. I quickly hit the thumbs up icon on the track. I love this song.
Today Angelina Jolie discussed the removal of her ovaries and fallopian tubes in an op-ed article in the New York Times. I never liked Angelina Jolie as an actress, but I never disliked her. I never followed her in the news, I never went out of my way to watch one of her movies, and I didn’t have the need to know much about her. I knew a few things about her, like she was Jon Voight’s daughter and Billy Bob Thornton was cheating on his fiancee (who supposedly didn’t find out until Billy Bob and Angelina were married) with her. She was just kind of…there. Eventually I saw more of her in the media not because of her movies, but because of her humanitarian efforts, her growing family, and health issues.
My excitement had been building exponentially as I planned to get a tattoo. Not a cute little heart on my wrist or a narwhal on my ass cheek. But something big, loud, and in-your-face. Ryan has told me many times that tattoos on a woman are hot, especially sleeves or legs. I had a tattoo before I met Ryan, but not in either of those places. So to hear him say that makes me say, “I love tattoos, and I want another one, so why not get it where my man wants it?”