Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
A little Wallflowers invaded my stream this morning. “6th Avenue Heartache” came out in 1996. About a homeless man, the lines that caught my fancy this morning is the refrain.
h/t Genius.com
The song has a Bob Dylan/Tom Petty flavor to it. That shouldn’t surprise; Mike Campbell, the guitarist who worked with Petty so much, plays the slide guitar, and Jakob Dylan, who wrote the song, is Bob Dylan’s offspring.
It’s a mellow throwback. Enjoy your day, and wear your masks, please.
Cheers
“Careless Whisper” by Wham came out in 1984. I vividly remember being on Okinawa, accompanied by the wife, and all these women being quite taken with this song. So sexy…yes, a wonderful slow-dance song, one that invited warm belly rubbing.
Dance forward several decades. I’m in the car on an errand, chasing music via satellite radio, when a song sort of familiar but also different caused a pause to listen more. Then, seriously, I giggled, because I was hearing a metal version of “Careless Whisper”. Modern tech in the car’s infotainment system identified the group as Seether.
I wasn’t familiar with Seether. Later, at home, I hunted more info on them from the web. Today, a little word and sound association, and here I am, playing Seether’s cover in my head.
Thought I’d share it. Emotional with a different nuance than the original, it’s an interesting cover of an old song, good theme music for interesting times..
Trump and his Pentagon are shutting down the independent military newspaper, The Stars and Stripes. One hundred sixty years old, working on a fifteen million dollar budget, it’s a bitter end to a venerable institution.
I was in the U.S. Air Force for over twenty years. Overseas, we looked to the Stars and Stripes for laughs, information, distractions, sports scores, and a touch of home. You could usually walk into an office and find a copy of the latest daily sitting on a table or desk, pick it up, and check it out. Sometimes the Jumble word puzzles were done, or the NYTimes crossword puzzle was half-finished, or the Sudoku was begun. In Europe, it was the source for finding out what events were planned, such as festivals and volksmarches. Everywhere, it told us what was happening at other theater bases, and when college registration and terms were beginning. It also carried the AFRTS television and radio schedules and highlights, and the show times for the movie theaters.
This all helped keep us connected and grounded. That was (pause to absorb shock) over thirty years ago for me. (Another pause to absorb shock.) Satellite entertainment was just becoming available, and we were watching tape-delay productions of ‘live’ shows. The Internet and web were just beginning to stretch and flex. Phones were still tethered to walls and desks by long cords.
So, yeah, as Zimmerman sang, the times they are a-changing. I usually look forward to change, hoping that we’re advancing our technology in ways to improve our lives and conditions, or defeat diseases and advance cures. I’m in favor of change that levels the field and delivers justice, equality, freedom, and opportunity for all. Perhaps the time has come for the Stars and Stripes to cease, because its purpose has been overtaken by advances. In memory, though, I’ll recall it fondly, and think of its passing with a sigh.
But then, that’s what happens with so much of our things, isn’t it? We outgrow them, and they fade away.
6:30 A.M., Friday morning, September 4, 2020.
I did not want to get up. Still sifting dreams, I thought I was due to stay in bed for at least another hour. I’d been up late into the morning, sucking up my latest TV addition, “Mr Inbetween”. An Aussie show, I’m watching it on Hulu. I love his daughter, Britt. Played by Chika Yasumura, she steals whatever scene she’s in.
So it kept me up and awake, and I didn’t want to get up. But the cats, particularly Tucker (my long-hair black and white big bruiser) (he’s a blokey-bloke) and Papi, the young ginger blade, thought the day required my attention. After a bit of failed negotiations and stalling tactics, I yielded, telling them and myself, “Here we go.”
Well, here we go led to the chorus, “Here we go, rocking all over the world,” out of the 1975 John Fogerty song, “Rockin’ All Over the World”. When I thought about it, though, I began remembering Status Quo playing at Live Aid 85.
For Fogerty’s release in ’75, I was a few months out of military tech school, newly married, and stationed at Wright-Pat AFB in Ohio. Ten years later, when Status Quo played the song at Live Aid 85, I was living in a tent city outside Cairo, Egypt, playing war games. Still married, though, but my wife was staying with her family. I believe I dimly recall seeing Status Quo’s Live Aid version while I was heading home, during a fuel stop at Torrejon Air Base in Spain. We had time to kill, so we walked around the exchange to see what was new and get an AAFES burger.
So this simple song is today’s theme music, brought to you by stubborn cats and nostalgia. I decided to go with Status Quo’s Live Aid version because I like the crowd’s energy.
Hope you enjoy it. I know I used it before, if memory serves (but it doesn’t always serve, does it?), but I’m using it again. Remember to wear your mask. Cheers
Today’s theme music is a ‘Feline’s Choice’. Each night, my fur boys crowd the door and meow a request to go out. I not infrequently imagine a musical circling around their activities. Often, when they go out and sit down, listening to the darkness and listening, they sing this Pat Benatar song, “We Belong”, from 1984. Only, my boys aren’t singing, “We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder” they’re singing, “We belong to the night, but we run from the thunder.”
They’ve changed other words, too. I only know some of them, as my flooflish is limited. I’m not personally a big fan of this song; too eighties. If you were there, you probably understand.
My mind is serenading me wit Red Ryder’s 1981 song, “Lunatic Fringe”, today.
Back when I was commuting and working in an office, I’d often think of this song. I always seemed to encounter people with perspectives and facts that didn’t align with reality. Feels like I’m seeing and hearing more of it on the television, radio, and intertubes. Yet, I always wonder if I’m the lunatic fringe, out of sync with reality. That drives me to verify and vet information, and trace stories, looking for the source.
All this is helpful while writing. I enjoy elements in what I read (or the movies and television shows that I watch), so I plug it into my writing. When I’m writing, I enjoy an imaginary reader wondering, “WTF?” This is especially true if I laugh out loud when I’m writing it.
Here’s a sample of “Lunatic Fringe” lyrics (h/t to Metrolyrics.com), followed by the song.
Lunatic Fringe
I know you’re out there
You’re in hiding, and you hold your meetings
I can hear you coming, and I know what you’re after
We’re wise to you this time we won’t let you kill the laughter
Lunatic Fringe – in the twilight’s last gleaming
This is open season, but you won’t get too far
‘Cause you got to blame someone for your own confusion
We’re all on guard this time against the Final Solution
We can hear you coming
We can hear you coming no, you’re not going to win this time,
your not gonna win
“You’ve yet to have your finest hour.”
I was rallying myself to get out of bed when the quote was remembered.
It’s a good quote Churchill, the second World War. (Has war stopped since then?) Queen put it into their 1984 song, “Radio Ga Ga”. After I applied it to myself (and wondering if it’s true), I applied it to humanity.
We — humanity — have been changing the world and our societies. Now the world is biting back, or so it feels. It feels like that because it’s us, and our moment. Review some history, and you’ll see that nature bites back pretty damn regularly.
So here we go with the theme music. Enjoy yourself, if you can, wherever you are, and wear your mask, please.
I’m in a mellow groove, brought on by a mellow mood. Thinking about how events shape emotions, and emotions shape logic, and logic shapes thinking, which translate to habits, behavior, and expectations.
This is connected to writing, sure, but to events in the U.S., and to politics, but even to myself, and how the events of my youth formed who I now am.
All of that propelled memories of some song lyrics.
“What? Really? Why, that’s unusual,” you probably thought.
I agree. (Despite my mellow mood, the snark is rising today.)
I saw the sign
And it opened up my eyes
I saw the sign
Life is demanding without understanding
I saw the sign
And it opened up my eyes
I saw the sign
No one’s gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong
But where do you belong
When others’ thinking seems so off to us, we ponder, what’s wrong with them? What will it take to open their eyes? We rarely know what they’ve experienced. We might think we do, but that’s based on our own experiences, and whatever clues we can muster from their lives. That’s often rendered down to their appearance, actions, and circumstances, which is pretty damn shallow evidence. Things — lives — are frequently more convoluted than the surface that we see.
Anyway, here’s “The Sign” by the Ace of Base, 1993, a mellow song for a mellow, reflective, morning.
One of my favorite songs is featured in my music stream today. “Lido Shuffle” by Boz Skaggs was released in 1977. I was immediately enamored. I like that refrain, “One more for the road” that he sings out. Although it sometimes comes out when I’m having a drink, more often it’s about trying again for me. That goes back to another part of the song.
He said one more job ought to get it
One last shot ‘fore we quit it
One more for the road
“One last shot ‘fore we quit it.” Put that on my death marker. (I plan on cremation, so just mention it when my ashes are spread. Don’t have a preference about where they’re spread; I’m stardust, and I’m already everywhere.)
I don’t like givin’ up, damn it. I’m always for trying one more time, but I don’t do it the same way; I think, what can I change? How can this be done differently?
I will often walk away, to think about it or let my brain work a problem on its own without my interference. I’ve often found success that way. It’s one reason why I enjoy working alone. Others will indulge in endless discussions about how and why. They want all answers given beforehand. I just like jumping in and doing it.
My attitude is a multifaceted plethora of clichés. A good plan now is better than a perfect plan later. Baby steps; make small changes and adjust. Don’t fear failure. If at first you don’t succeed —
Well, you got it. Please give the song a listen. It’s a jazzy, up-tempo ol’ tune.
And please wear a mask.
Today’s music arrives from yesterday’s doc visit. You’d think, then, it’s a doc-related song like “Dr. Feelgood”, “Doctor Doctor”, or “Doctor My Eyes”. You’d be wrong.
At the doc’s office, everyone politely asked, “How are you doing? How’s your arm?” Valid questions.
Wanting to be both upbeat and original, I sought different ways to answer. One was, “Hey, holding on, getting better.”
That was issued to Jocelyn, the xray tech. As I awaited the next round after her, memory picked up the holding on comment and supplied the 1988 Steve Winwood song with the title of, well, “Holding On”. It’s a typical Winwood hybrid, quasi rock and soul, with a brassy feel, big vocals, and optimism.
It worked well for passing doctor office time yesterday. I think, in this age of pandemic, change, elections. wildfires, and suffering, it’s good theme music for today.
Hold on. And wear your damn mask, please.
Michael Seidel, writer 