xp_logs | Jay & Cammie midday

Cammie comes across Jay watching TV and they talk about swimsuits and music tastes.

"Yanno, Ah always thought women looked fat in full pieced bathin suits," Jay said, gesturing to the TV. Slouched down in a single seat, he arched his back and shifted to the left, reaching behind him to scratch his back.

Cammie was walking around the mansion again. Coming out from self imposed exile after hitting Jean-Paul. She heard the comment and shook her head, looking at the TV, “Oh yeah, because you know showing off to guys has always been our number one priority over everything,” she returned.

"Ah'm just saying, look at her. Makes her thighs all plump n' her stomach bloated. It don't look good, no matter who ya are. Fat or thin, you can't convince me nuttin'," he said stubbornly and crossed his arms over his chest. Propping one foot up, his eyes remained on the TV a few seconds longer before he cast a brief glance to her.

“I don’t think she’s trying to convince you of anything,” Cammie said tilting her head at the TV, “I’m not a big fan of girls in or out of swimsuits. Most of them are catty bitches.”

"Most of 'em don't know art from playboy." Jay flipped over the channel to MTV. "Oh see, now here's art," he said, sitting up and bouncing his foot on the ball. His eyes fixed on the TV, imagining he was still beautiful with a voice that could capture any audience, like he was there and not here, on the couch, watching it.

“See, I’m punk. The art is in the words,” Cammie said. In the message or in how much damage you could do in a mosh pit. “You can sing as pretty as you want, but still say totally nothing.”

"There's a lotta good words in different genres, sure but they still gotta know how to sing, otherwise, they ain't no bother. Not worth listenin' to," he argued. "You gonna stand there all day or sit?"

“I could sit, or I could stand,” she said with a shrug, leaning over one of the chairs, “Someone giving a great message doesn’t have to have a voice like a song bird. Otherwise what would happen to bands like Flogging Molly or Dead Kennedys?”

"They woulda been flogged to death and stayed dead," he replied in a flat tone, shrugging. "It's just like screamin'. No one's gonna listen if yer yellin' in their ear."

“You know nothing about punk and metal, do you?” Cammie said with a laugh.
"Yeah, actually, Ah do. Most of 'em that pretend they can't sing can carry a note better than the ones that can. They just pretend they can't cause it goes against the code of music."

“Yeah, there are some of the ones who pretend they can’t that have awesome voices when they’re not screaming,” Cammie mused, “But the style calls for you to break your vocal cords in half.”

"Yeah," Jay agreed though he clearly didn't enjoy knowing that people who could sing, would go to the extent of wrecking their voices. "Sometimes it ain't worth it though. But most sing what they love, not what they're good at."

“What ain’t worth it, singing what they like to sing? I don’t know much about music like how it works and how you make it. I just know when someone is up there doing it and doing it good that everything clicks. And it’s awesome. It’s why I like punk shows, or metal shows. More energy than you’re going to get with someone piping a line to people like Britney Spears,” she said, with a wave of her hand.

"She's just a victim of marketing, that's all. They write her songs, tell her where to go, how to dress. That ain't music," though he liked her on some scale, he didn't admit that to Cammie. "If someone can't carry a tune, who cares 'bout the words tho'. Ah mean, if Ah can't stand 'em, fuck it. It's like that shit Forge listens to - ever heard it? Go ask him. He'll probably be all hyper cause someone asks about it."

“There’s a lot of that different type of shit around. What type of shit does he listen to?” Cammie asked with a laugh. Metal and punk were only two of the many types of screaming music.

"Oh Ah dunno. Like Ah said, ask him. Ah think it’s some heavy euro metal. Big symphonic harmonies type deal. Now Ah just call it 'shit' and he knows what Ah'm talkin' about." Jay smiled to himself, ran a relaxed hand briefly through his carelessly styled hair. "He knows it's shit. He won't be offended if ya call it that. But Ah warn ya though, get him talkin' about it and he'll defend it to the teeth."

“Most people do defend their music. Even when everyone else thinks it sucks,” Cammie said. “It’s a lot like art that way.”

"Maybe but when it gets to the point where he's draggin' you down to his shop for some music analysis, you gotta draw a line somewhere." Jay's eyes usually crossed at that point, glazed over and looking for an escape.

“Sounds like he’s your friend. Which makes it your problem,” Cammie said brightly. “I’ll just not bring it up now that I’ve been thoroughly warned.”