Another floof-inspired choice. Two of our three boys squared off. Mewing, yowling, and growling, Boo said, “There’s not room for two of us in this entryway.” Papi’s got us back up. “You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? There’s no one else here so you must be talkin’ to me.”
It was Saturday night. “Enough,” I said. “Keep it up, and I’ll get the squirt gun. Boo, be quiet. Papi, go around him.”
They did as told. Yeah, surprised me, too. Guess they feared that squirt gun. As Boo went out and I closed the door behind him, I finished, “Saturday night’s not alright for fighting.”
That, of course, introduced the Elton John/Bernie Taupin tune of that name from 1973, when I was just seventeen. Here we go.
Today’s song is perfect for the moment. A cat’s attentions awoke me about five this morning. Dream pieces stayed with me while I attended the cat, and since I was up, visited the water closet. Sometime during this period, ELO’s 1975 song, “I Can’t Get It Out of My Head”, started streaming because I couldn’t get that dream out of my head.
Now, like the title, I can’t get this soft, mystical, prog-rock song out of my head. Over to you.
Thinking about having a beer with friends at our annual Haroldfest tonight when this energetic old rock song streamed in. Even though it’s by this group led by this guy named Santana, I don’t I’ve heard it on the radio in about four decades.
The lines that brought it into mind:
You can understand everything’s to share.
Let your spirit dance brothers everywhere.
Let your head be free. Turn the wisdom key
Find it naturally, see you’re lucky to be
Sing it loud
It’s time for you to all get down
Yeah do it.
The Wayback Machine injected another song into the stream yesterday.
I was out walking through an autumn day. Reds, golds, oranges, and yellows have been splashed across the foliage but leaves aren’t dropping yet. Temperatures have dropped in a fallish segment, thirties to forties at night, fifties to sixties in the day, with rain showers.
As I walked through this, I noticed how many people weren’t dressed for the day. Maybe, like my friend, in his loud flowery, tropical shirt, they’re making a last stand for summer. Perhaps they expected the area to follow its tradition of quickly reverting to warmer weather, or, it could be that they’re just denying that the season changed, or they’re not paying attention. I also thought that they were tough people, unfazed by chilly, soggy weather, and were wearing tee shirts and sandals because the weather wasn’t affecting them like the rest of us mortals. The majority them looked cold and a bit miz, though.
So, reflecting on the weather change, I chanced to glance upon a far-away scene, where the leaves were a splash of fiery color on the mountain. Natch, the WM poured a 1975 Marshall Tucker Band song, “Fire on the Mountain” into the stream, and off I went, humming and singing as I continued on.
Of course, “Fire on the Mountain” is about a futile search for gold so a man can improve his family’s situation. He fails and dies. That’s often life, innit?
“That’s why you can’t hold me down. You can’t tie me down. I gotta gotta gotta get away.”
I awoke with Jimi Hendix 1967 song, “Stone Free” in my stream. (I think I was missing up choruses, though.) I think it came about from judgement calls on people like Greta Thunberg about everything except what’s she say. People were throwing superficial criticisms at her; some even suggested that she was mentally ill. Most also mocked her as a child because she’s still a teenager.
Never mind that she’s making intelligent points about the environment. Never mind that elsewhere people are quite willing to use teenagers as soldiers or proclaim them able to carry and give birth to a child, or to be married.
Thankfully, Greta is above being shamed for who she is and is proud of what she does. I only wish I had her balls.
I’m sorta maudlin in my reflections today, and the stream reflects that. As friends and stars pass with greater frequency, I found “Shooting Star” by Bad Company (1975) streaming in me. So many folks and fur friends seem like shooting stars, blazing a fast trail through the night, gone before you can fully appreciate what you see. But sometimes that trail lights up the sky and leaves an impression that keeps you looking and longing for more.
Johnny told his mama, hey, ‘Mama, I’m goin’ away. I’m gonna hit the big
time, gonna be a big star someday’, Yeah.
Mama came to the door with a teardrop in her eye.
Johnny said, ‘Don’t cry, mama, smile and wave good-bye’.
Don’t you know, yeah yeah, Don’t you know that you are a shooting star,
Don’t you know, don’t you know. Don’t you know that you are
a shooting star, And all the world will love you just as long,
As long as you are.
Johnny made a record, Went straight up to number one,
Suddenly everyone loved to hear him sing the song.
Watching the world go by, surprising it goes so fast.
Johnny looked around him and said, ‘Well, I made the big time at last’.
Don’t you know, don’t you know, Don’t you know that you are
a shooting star,
Don’t you know, oh, yeah, Don’t you know that you are
a shooting star, yeah,
And all the world will love you just as long,
As long as you are, a shooting star.
Don’t you know that you are a shooting star, Don’t you know, yeah,
Don’t you know that you are a shooting star, now,
And all the world will love you just as long, As long you are you.
Johnny died one night, died in his bed, Bottle of whiskey,
sleeping tablets by his head. Johnny’s life passed him by like a
warm summer day, If you listen to the wind you can still hear him play.
Planning a trip home, to see Mom in PA. I guess as part of that, Harry Chapin’s 1974 song, “Cat’s in the Cradle” started playing. Perhaps it’s because I’m not planning to see Dad, and I feel guilty. Mom and Dad each have birthdays in October’s last week. Mom lives in PA, Dad lives in TX, and I live in Oregon. Arranging to see them is a challenge with flight schedules.
The song came out the week that I entered the Air Force, as my Dad had done decades before. During basic, we heard little music and saw little of the outside world until basic was finished. Naturally, hearing this song after my basic was completed struck me as completely, and sadly, true.
Anyone, “Cat’s in the Cradle” is in my stream, so I’m presenting it to you.
I read that The Beatles’ album, Abbey Road, was released fifty years ago. It’s not a surprise; it came out when I was thirteen, and I’m sixty-three. The math was straightforward. It’s more astonishing not for time’s passing — hey, that happens every day — but for the shifts that it signaled in pop music, the world’s ever-changing politics and alliances, and the monstrous technological surge recorded during that fifty years.
I won’t say it was all peace and love in 1969 because it sure as hell wasn’t. Older people were lamenting the youth, and the youth was out to change the establishment. Major civil rights advances had been achieved. Bottled water existed but wasn’t the ubiquitous commodity that it is today. Corporations were gaining power but we hadn’t yet witnessed the emergence of the super-CEOs of now, compensated and treated like they’re dictators of small countries. The U.S.S.R. and Warsaw Pact countries, and Communist China – the P.R.C. – dominated movies and novels as the U.S.A.’s greatest threat. Computers were still big machines and novelties. VCRs, DVD players, cell phones were all creeping over the future’s horizon.
History update completed, when I contemplated the release of Abbey Road, the song that popped into my stream was “Oh! Darling”. I like its bluesy sensibilities and active bass so I thought I’d push it on you.
A beautiful sun warms a clear blue sky here in Ashland, southern Oregon, this morning. All is calm and serene. Into this streams a song by America, “Lonely People” (1974).
I’m fortunate to have family, but more, a writing process and endeavors which I enjoy, and a couple cats. Thanks to all this, I rarely have moments of feeling alone or isolated. But there are too many out there who are lonely people, even when they’re with friends and family, and more who are lonely, and alone, in isolation.
It’s them I think of this morning.
This is for all the lonely people
Thinking that life has passed them by
Don’t give up until you drink from the silver cup
And ride that highway in the sky
This is for all the single people
Thinking that love has left them dry
Don’t give up until you drink from the silver cup
You never know until you try
Michael Seidel, writer 