Category: memories

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Tell me, again, how does this mind thing work? How do memories, dreams, events, and thinking interplay to bring other things up? I don’t have a grasp. I know I’m young, just in my sixties, but I do want to know.

Take this morning. Up and busy with cat attentions (this is where the cats gather to ensure that I’m going to feed them, and the head floofherder guides me to the write location by tapping my legs with a helpful paw, or darting across my path when I turn the wrong way). Not thinking of much, to be honest. Hadn’t had coffee, was drinking hot water.

I guess, if anything, I was thinking, “Oh, sunlight! And it’s not even eight! Yea!” And I was thinking, “Spring ahead with the clock soon, yea.” (And then doing the comparisons; so if it’s seven now, this will be what it’s like at eight, right?”

Into all of this came a song. As the sound entered my stream, I thought, hey, I know that song. That’s “Tubular Bells”. Theme music for the The Exorcist.

Song and movie came out in 1973. The movie was Oscar nominated and much talked about. It terrified people, and they wanted to talk about it. They were talking about it in restaurants and parties, cars and houses, on the radio and television. It was non-stop Exorcist.

“Tubular Bells”, by Mike Oldfield, was everywhere, too. The real question is, why did it make the jump from early 1970s memories to active placement in the stream today.

Guess it’s a haunting melody (heh, heh).

Any of you out there in netland familiar with this movie and song?

Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

Walkin’ yesterday, post writing session (which wasn’t an overly great session), my stream introduced a Traveling Wilburys song to my mind.

The writing session had been a lethargic affair, brief spurts of reading bridged by long periods of pensive thinking. Two thirds of the way through it, I noticed that the folks on either side of me had low energy as they pursued their ‘puter biziness, yawning, sighing, stretching. So I think it was a low-key energy tide affecting me and others.

Dream speculations occupied me afterward as I thought about a new recent trend in my dreams. Then came the song, “Heading for the Light” (1988) by The Traveling Wilburys.

I enjoyed the Wilburys album. It was released while I was still stationed and living in Germany. This was before the wall fell. Five talented individuals – Harrison, Petty, Dylan, Lynne, and Orbison — with well-established careers came together to record a song. One song led to an album. One album led to two, but death — Orbison’s — curtailed further activity. Harrison and Petty have since followed him. Only two Wilburys remain.

This song, unlike most Wilburys songs, has a hugely distinctive Harrison/Lynne sound to it. Not surprising, as they were the producers. But the lyrics, a look back at where a person has been, how they changed it around, and where they’re going now, was perfect for the moment, then and now.

The song hung around in the stream, and is there today, where there’s little light permeating the soft rain clouds. That makes it a nominee for today’s theme music.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

This song, “Goodbye Stranger”, arrived in the stream after watching people at the coffee shop and on the streets, and inadvertently eavesdropping (they speak, I have ears…it happens).

A woman regularly brings her dog into the coffee shop. She usually sits back by the community table, where I like to work when I can. Her dog is often a cause for conversations with others. So I’ve learned that her dog is a rescue from an animal hoarding situation, that she’s had to work with him, that his name is Atlas, that he does much better now, but that other dogs’ barking makes him nervous, that he is her service dog. I’ve learned others had dogs like him, or saved from similar situations. He’s often compared to a Ridgeback but he isn’t one, not a true Ridgeback, she says.

But I’ve never heard her name, or why she needs a service dog, nor why she is bald. She wears dark glasses, but she watches people, back from her space by the wall, with her service dog beside her…

I’ve decided that I don’t want coffee shop friendships. I’m there to work. Cruel of me, innit? So I keep myself to myself, but as I leave each time, I feel her eyes watch me, and imagine I turn my head and say, “Goodbye, stranger.”

But I don’t. It has caused the 1979 Supertramp song to find itself in my stream.

 

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Saturday’s Theme Music

I was working at the community table yesterday in the coffee shop. Another couple joined me. Plenty of space, no prob.

The community table is usually used by people powering up ‘puters. This company were only sitting and chatting. They were to my left. She was closer. He was keeping his voice low and demonstrating a pensive, almost furtive air, as if afraid of being overheard.

I don’t pay them — or anyone at the table — much attention; I’m there to do my thang. But I do often hear on some level. It’s part of the background blend of the coffee house business environment. He was complaining about another woman, and what she said and did. (Wife? Sister? Friend?) Whatever she did (his voice dropped into the bowels of softness when he addressed this) had him very upside. (Mother? But he looked in his fifties..) (Co-worker?)

Then the woman said, “You and I know what she will do, and does do. Others won’t know until they experience.”

“I still need to warn them.”

“I know, I understand, I understand.”

Drinks were consumed in silence for a little time. (Ah, secrets. Insights. The things that we know that others don’t.)

I left soon after (nothing to do with them, just finished for the day). Walking along, thinking about my writing, etc., (clouds were moving in, and the sun’s heat was missed), I slipped back onto her comment, “You and I know.” That planted the seed of an old Dave Mason song, “Only You and I know”.

I had to think a while as I walked about what year that song must’ve come out. Fitting it into my personal history, I struggled – ’69, ’70, 71? Had to wiki it upon my return: 1970.

That prompted a death check to confirm Dave Mason is still kicking (he is, seventy-three years old). I enjoy the song (along with the Bonnie and Delaney version) but haven’t heard it in a looonnng time. So I fixed that last night, and share it with you today.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Once again, I get up, begin the day, and develop an earworm. My morning earworms are frequently related to my dreams or my thoughts. A third category consists of songs that leap in. I suspect that I heard reference to them or part of them in passing and they snuggled into the folds of my mind until a quiet moment arrives when they can burst through into my stream.

(It’s odd how word association will cause a flash-in of another song; in this case, I had been about to write, ‘break through’, which triggered “Break on through to the other side”.) (Remember that one? Jim and The Doors? The 1960s?).

This morning’s streaming song is out of 1968. I didn’t know who performed it; Google and Wikipedia revealed it was The Foundations (I only remember them slightly). So, here’s this morning’s flow, “Build Me Up, Buttercup”.

From my head, to yours.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

This one came into the stream out of nowhere. I call it nowhere, but it’s connections in my brain, innit? Sometimes, the how and why of deliveries to the stream is self-evident; other times, the connections are deep or nebulous, or too esoteric for the conscious mind to easily hunt down.

Either way, I like to go with the flow. So, today, from 1970, we have John Fogerty with “Long As I Can See The Light”. It’s post CCR, but an interesting cover, from 2010.

 

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Just from the line, “Don’t look back in anger, I heard you say, at least no today,” I began streaming Oasis and “Don’t Look Back in Anger” (1996). I like the song but some of the rhymes don’t make sense. It’s like several different stories and perspectives are being shared, and none are finished.

But to not look back in anger is my takeaway for today.

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Monday’s Theme Music

This song is arrives from memories that my dream about Mom’s house stirred.

After thinking about the dream and remembering the period, I recalled a return visit. I’d brought some tapes to listen to. One was Uriah Heep, which had the song, “Sweet Lorraine” on it. I enjoyed the album and song, but the Moog synthesizer Uriah Heep used took Mom aback.

I claim to so vividly remember her listening and asking, “What is that?”

I answered, “It’s music,” because I knew she was referring to the synthesizer. It wasn’t the first time she’d questioned my music, always with a mild scowl, but never a demand to turn it off. (Turning it down was often requested, though.)

She, as expected, answered, “That’s not music,” which made me laugh. Her subsequent eye roll (she’s a master at it) increased my laughter.

So, for Mom and old times, Uriah Heep with “Sweet Lorraine” from 1972, when I was sixteen. Side note: David Byron, the lead singer, was another who died too young, 37.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Today’s music was brought to me by the muses. That’s my assumption.

See, I’d finished walking, and arrived at the coffee shop. Beginning to unpack my ‘puter stuff, set up, plug in, and turn on, I thought, time to rock. In response, “We Will Rock You” by Queen (1977) kicked into my stream. I decided it was my muses (sounds like a stadium full of them in there today) singing to me.

With a song like that, I expect an interesting writing session, good or bad. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Song

Walking in the cold, cloudy day yesterday, I thought of sunshine. I believed that I’d been promised some sunshine. Had I missed it?

The drizzle had stepped and the fog slipped off its coat, but low clouds still obscured our landscape. It offered its own beauty but it fell short when you’ve been promised sunshine. Tomorrow, I thought.

Meanwhile, my mind walked through sunshine songs. Katrinn and the Waves, Bill Withers, Cream, the Beatles, the Doors, Weezer, Soundgarden, and the Kinks all offered something, along with the Violent Femmes, Fifth Dimension, and Lovin’ Spoonful. Nothing caught the day’s mood.

Today, I came out and opened the blinds to sunshine. Yes, my heart sang. Before the first chorus ended, a mean, snickering cloud slipped over the sun and blotted out its efforts. No fair, my heart cried.

Songs about heart (and by Heart) poured into the stream, but Pat Benatar ruled with “Heartbreaker” (1979) took over.

Two sets of lines dominated from “Heartbreaker”. The first is that angry and defiant, “No, no, no!” Yes, there was today, no accepting. Second is the classic set, “You’re a heartbreaker, dream maker, love taker, don’t you mess around with me.” Plus, there’s all that thundering, driving guitar, crisp drums, and Benatar’s voice.

Yes, it’s the theme for today. As a bonus, Pat and her band have some nascent 1980s big hair on display. Gotta love it.

 

 

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