Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Some days I wonder and worry about it all. Then comes a day when I decide, screw it; let it roll.
From 1970, The Doors with “Roadhouse Blues”. Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel. The future’s uncertain and the end is always near.
Gonna tell you a story. About a kitty I know. When it comes to loving, she steals the show. Ain’t exactly pretty, ain’t exactly small.
Well, she was small of body, but big of mind, and HUGE of will.
Anyway, back to the theme music. Going with AC/DC. “Whole Lotta Rosie”. 1977. You either know it, or you don’t. That’s how stuff usually works.
You may not know this, but I was born in 1956, so 1977 was part of my extended childhood. Truthfully, my extended childhood will probably end within a few years. I’m holding on, but all good things must end.
Go in for more work in Peckerville today. Wish me luck. Cheers
Today’s music is owed to a cat. I opened a new can, put it in his bowl, and set it down in front of it. He took a step toward it, bent his head, sniffed it, looked up at me, and meowed.
“Looks fine to me,” I said. “Whatcha see is whatcha get.”
That naturally triggered the 1971 Dramatics’ song, “Whatchat See Is Whatcha Get”.
I gave another cat the rejected food. The other cat wolfed it down and then washed itself. The first cat, Boo, found kibble in the always there kibble bow.
Thinking about the song, I thought that it’s not only effective for telling the cat this is his breakfast choice this morning, but can hold to our politics with Trump. What you see, an ignorant, self-absorbed person and known cheat with a first-graders’ maturity level, and nursery-school knowledge of history and the U.S. Constitution, is what you get. That seems fine with the Trumpettes, but the rest of us are not pleased.
The song’s first words:
Yes, I think that’s apropos for Trump and the Trumpettes.
In our world’s tiny niche, this was a significant hit when I was a teenager around 1973.
Jim Croce had been around for a few years and had several hits, like “Operator”, “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown”, and “Time In A Bottle”. Then a black crash killed him, devastating us, his fans, although it was probably harder for his family and friends. It seemed like even as they were still talking about it on the news, he had a new song rising on the charts, “I Got A Name”.
I awoke this morning still streaming several songs heard in my dreams. Among those were “Sisters” from the movie White Christmas, and James Blunt with “Make Me Better”. But “I Got A Name” was sharper and stronger. It’s silly and sentimental, but here it sits as my theme music this morning.
Was walking and streaming to myself (of course, but who else could I be streaming to?), “No more speed, I’m almost there. Gotta keep cool now, gotta take care. Last car to pass, here I gooo. And the line of cars go down real slow, whoa. Radio’s playing that forgotten song. Brenda Lee’s coming on strong. And the newsman sang his theme song.”
Yes, it’s Golden Earring’s 1973 hit, “Radar Love”, at least how I remember it. I was pushing myself to get to nine miles for the day and reflecting on it all. Blueberry pickin’ at 6:30, the writing day at 9:30 (with forlorn results), drinks with a friend at three, then the final walking to reach nine miles. Mixed bag, you know?
The blueberries weren’t as fine and ripe this year. We came home with an ounce over eight pounds, which cost us $18.25. Long drop from those heady days of eighteen pounds for $36.
Meeting with FX was fun. He’s an established actor, most recently seen as a judge in On the Basis of Sex. After talking life and politics for a bit, we shifted to books and writing, and then movies we’d not like to seen remade, like Doctor Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. I also don’t want to see The African Queen remade, Twelve Angry Men, or Bridge On the River Kwai. I don’t think they can touch the Godfather series, but who knows what lurks in the minds of Hollywood producers?
Memories,
I make them now,
so far my brain hasn’t forgotten how.
Time shoots by in a quickening blast
and I recall with fondness a nebulous past.
Starry-eyed and glittery mind, I used to look ahead.
Now, sometimes, it’s wearying getting out of bed.
My oceans of thoughts seem dark but calm,
a prelude, or harbinger, of a once-remembered song.
I seek comfort, I seek reminders, I seek the past,
even though I know, like the future,
it never lasts.
Chicago was a friend’s favorite group when I was a teenager. Sometimes when we hung around at his place, he’d put on one of their tapes. He bought all of their early albums, so I became familiar with their songs. One such song, “Saturday In the Park” came to mind today.
You can see how it all came together, right?
Saturday in the park
I think it was the Fourth of July
Saturday in the park
I think it was the Fourth of July
People dancing, people laughing
A man selling ice cream
Singing Italian songs
[Chorus]
Eh Cumpari, ci vo sunari
Can you dig it (yes, I can)
And I’ve been waiting such a long time
For Saturday
[Verse 2]
Another day in the park
I think it was the Fourth of July
Another day in the park
I think it was the Fourth of July
People talking, really smiling
A man playing guitar
Singing for us all
If you’re looking for me, I’ll be in the park.
Happy post Independence Day to any United States citizens reading. We’ve survived another.
Happy Friday to the rest. We’ve survived another Thursday. The typical work week is ending.
Let’s have a little victory song. Just imagine: you’ve scored the winning goal. You aced a test. Graduated. Retired. Finished writing a novel, short story, or poem. Published something.
Here’s a 1972 offering by Gary Glitter to help you celebrate. It’s a bit repetitive but that beat’s helpful for asserting yourself and cheering yourself on.
Cheers
Began streaming this 1970 song yesterday afternoon during my après-writing walk-about. “For united we stand, divided we fall, and if our backs should ever be against the wall, we’ll be together, together, you and I.”
Although I often get down (trigger a background streaming of Kool & The Gang performing “Jungle Boogie” (1973)) by world events, especially with the rise of white supremacy and a growing impression that large segments of America’s population are concerned about only themselves, leading to a de facto policy of screw everyone else, and the Earth, too, singing “United We Stand” by Brotherhood of Man (1970) lifted my spirits.
Listen. Sing along. Hope.
This one comes completely via the memory stream, inserted their by a friend’s Facebook post.
When I was fifteen, I’d listen to this McDonald and Giles tune, “Tomorrow’s People – the Children of Today” (1971) on my old phonograph player. A quarter weighed the arm down against the needle skipping. I’d acquired some huge speakers and wired this hybrid stereo. I’d put this on, lay down, and listen to it at a soft volume. I found it relaxing and reassuring.
Bittersweet to hear this song, then and now. It’s about children playing in sunshine. One set of lines that always strikes me:
And who will open their eyes
To see what they can see
And then while looking around
Feel the warmth of reality
At the time I listened to this, I’d left Mom’s home and was living with my Dad. He was in the Air Force and freshly back from overseas assignments. I read and drew a lot, a loner, listening to music. I’d known families back then where the children lived in hard misery, parents who tortured their children with cigarettes or made them stay in a closet for hours in the dark. It was monstrous to think of adults treating children like that. Then, of course, I matured and discovered that there are adults who brutalize children and delight in it.
I admit, I never thought my government, the government that I joined and supported during my military years, would ever be part of the monstrosities we’re learning about in the Trump Camps. I’m ashamed and mortified.
Sorry that it’s such a downer of a post. Probably shouldn’t write this things until I’ve had at least a sniff of freshly brewed coffee to mitigate my dark side.
Michael Seidel, writer 