Estimados Estudiantes,
Below, I practice my Tortilla Soundtrack submission with Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train."
* I tried to justify my MVP selection with a song from my past. I may have drifted a little bit from my original instructions, but I'm happy how it came out.
* I encourage you to justify your song selection with the strategy you are most comfortable/confident with. Please follow my format instructions as close as you can. NEATNESS COUNTS. PUNCTUATION COUNTS. GRAMMAR COUNTS.
* I look forward to reading your selections. Every semester I download something new.
* Please contact me if you need any help or advice.
*CONGRATULATIONS ON A FINE SEMESTER!
Crazy Train
Before Ozzy Osborne came up with the title “Crazy Train” for his hit song, he called it “Diary of a Madman.” The lyrics describe the nervous breakdown of his bass player, but it could easily have spoke to T.C. Boyle’s novel. In the last chapter, Delaney went completely off his rails. He couldn’t handle his outrage and/or hatred. He blames everything wrong in his life on Mexicans. The mere sight of one could send him over the edge.
The best place to hear this song would have to be Part Three, Chapter Three. This is when Delaney and Jack are standing out on the street behind a police barrier – they’re watching the fire rise up from the canyon and approach their homes. Jack brought a bottle of whiskey. Delaney is both ANGRY and DRUNK! “Mental wounds not healing,” sings Ozzy. Who and what's to blame?” Delaney may not know who was responsible for starting the fire, but he doesn’t care either. Someone had to pay for this, and all he could think about at this moment were the Mexicans he had seen walking the trails through his canyon. “That was when Delaney felt the tall Mexican’s eyes on him….. He threw the look back at the son of a bitch and put everything he had into it. Clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Then just as the blond cop pulled at the man’s arm to swing him round and march him off toward the squad car, the Mexican spat and Delaney felt the wet on his face, saw it there spotting his glasses, and he lost all control”(289).
This song speeds up and slows down, speeds up and slows down – like the heart of a madman. In this scene, Delaney just goes off. He flails at the handcuffed Mexican with both fists. And he was just getting started. Over the next few pages, he would drink more whiskey before heading home to pick up his gun. Below, we provide you with a comparison chart between the song lyrics and the novel’s text:
Song Lyrics/ Tortilla Text Comparison Chart
|
Crazy, but that's how it goes Millions of people living as foes Maybe. it's not too late To learn how to love, and forget how to hate |
He’d been in Los Angeles nearly two yearns now, and he’d never really thought about it before, but they were everywhere, these men, ubiquitious, silently going about their business, whether it was mopping up the floors at McDonald’s, inverting trash cans in the alley out back of Emilio’s or moving purposively behind the rakes and blowers that combed the pristine lawns of Arro Blanco Estates twice a week. Where had they all come from. What did they want. . And why did they have to throw themselves under the wheels of his car (12). |
|
I've listened to preachers, I've listened to fools I've watched all the dropouts Who make their own rules One person conditioned to rule and control The media sells it and you live the role |
Delaney was clutching the pen like a weapon. He felt violated, taken ripped off—an nobody batted an eyelash… “What did you expect,” [Jack] said, ‘ when all you bleeding hearts want to invite the whole world in here to feed atour trough without a thought of who’s going to pay for it, as if the American taxpayer was like Jesus Christ with his loaves and fishes” (146). |
|
Heirs of a cold war, That's what we've become Inheriting troubles, I'm mentally numb Crazy, I just cannot bear I'm living with something that just isn't fair |
Delaney felt a thrill of triumph and hate – he couldn’t suppress it – and then both cops were bending over the suspects to clamp the handcuffs round the wrists, and the tall Mexican, Delaney’s special friend, was protesting his innocence in two languages. The son of a bitch. The jerk. The arsonist. It was all Delaney could do to keep from wading in and kicking him in the ribs (288). |
|
Mental wounds not healing Who and what's to blame I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train |
He was too keyed up to do much more than blow on the soup – Cambell’s Chunky Vegetable – and then he was in the hallway, standing before the full length mirror and watching himself tuck the gun into his pants and pull it out again while listening to the messages on his machine (345). |