Today’s little ditty was released by a small, unknown band came out in 1981. It had some small chart success in America and maybe a few other places in the world. You may have heard it because presidential candidates like using it, as do professional sports teams and television networks. I think it might have been in an obscure television show called The Sopranos. For reasons that defy easy tracking and explaining, my mind used it as my wake-up music.
Here’s Journey with “Don’t Stop Believin'”. If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.
I’m streaming the original Beatles’ version of “With a Little Help from My Friends” (1967). Don’t know. My streaming began with Ringo singing the third verse.
“Would you believe in love at first sight?”
“Yes, I’m certain that it happens all the time.”
Why this, today? Don’t know. Some inhibitor breakdown in the stream, a word caught in the wind, a flash in the brain, or maybe a neuotransmitter collision. I usually imagine my neurotransmitters as little sports cars racing through my head on beautifully constructed highways and country roads. Lately, though, ala Sim City, my neuro landscape is more like a hot and humid city under constant expansion, construction, and repair. There’s a lot of jackhammer and bulldozer noise. Big rigs transport loads of information as commuters struggling to get to work in their part of the brain creep along in traffic.
Floofsation(floofinition) – the impressions and feelings known when with a housepet, or while remembering a housepet.
In use: “Seeing the empty ceramic food bowl, he pulsed with deep floofsations of seeing his little long-haired cat rushing up to the bowl, dancing from foot to foot as he ate and purred. Hearing memories of the purr recalled the cat jumping on his lap and gazing at him with shiny, wide green eyes as he kneaded and purred. Teary, with a lump rising in his throat, he remembered how the cat would curl up, look back up at him, and gently bite his chin.”
I don’t know what triggered what filters on my mental streams this morning to be streaming this song. Dreams? Yes, I had several vivid dreams that I recall. Stress? Don’t think so as I don’t seem stressed today. Cats, food, mineral deficiency, too much of a mineral or vitamin?
I don’t know. The human body is a mysterious beast without a decent, modern diagnostics button. Something may have mis-fired, or it all worked exactly as planned. Either way, I’m now streaming “Lovefool” by the Cardigans (1996) on an infinite loop. Posting about it usually stops the loop, so…here we are.
Something mellow popped into my head yesterday. I’d finished some yardwork and was enjoying the warm late afternoon air. The temperature, sunlight, humidity, and silence combined into a rarefied sense of relaxation. “Groovin'”, the Rascals’ hit from 1967, began wending through my memory stream.
Thinking about the song reminded me of an incorrect lyric where people sang, “Life would be ecstasy, you and me and Leslie.” Everyone wondered, “Who is Leslie?” Leslie was “endlessly” misheard as Leslie. It’s a fun mondegreen, innit? I like singing Leslie instead of endlessly because it makes me laugh inside. Yes, I’m a simple-minded guy.
Hope you soon have some sunshine and time to relax and do some groovin’. If you’re not sure how to groove, I can’t help you. I think it’s something that you need to grok.
“Smile Like You Mean It” by the Killers was released in 2005. I always took it as a song about putting on a brave face when you run into the ex or something goes wrong. We have so many other expressions to cover it, like don’t let them see you cry, never show weakness, and never let them see that you’re hurt. That’s pretty much how I was raised, to keep pain private, to always be tough and strong. Part of that seemed to be all about being manly, but it was also about not letting others take advantage of you through a perceived weakness.
I’m picking up good vibrations today. Spring has sprung. Tulips and daffs are fading, shedding, and drooping (sounds like I’m talking about my hair and body), but the rest of our area is richly green. Trees are coming into their fullness.
The vibrations could be coming from my coffee, though. Its rich smell triggers a wonderful vibration deep in my nethers. The taste accentuates it, and then, when that caffeine arrives, it’s like, take it home, baby.
Or, it could be the productive results of a good night of rest, some wild and interesting dreams, a pleasant morning work-out, or a contact air from the neighbors smoking some early morning marijuana.
There’s a good chance that it’s all these things. Whatev, the Beach Boys’ 1966 hit, “Good Vibrations”, immediately piled into the stream. Absolutely one of my favorite songs, I enjoy it for the multiple changes, the theremin’s use, the quick but delicate bass line, the harmonies, and the lyrics. It came out when I was ten years old as well, so I float back into some finer times when the melody is in my stream.
Heard this one on the satellite radio yesterday. Memory gates crashed open when I did.
Chicago released “Color My World” in 1970. The slow ballad was an instant hit at school dances because it was a modern song, sloppy and sentimental, but with a slow tempo. That made it a perfect slow-dance song. Slow dancing was important to me as a fourteen year old. One, I could dance with girls to it. Two, I could dance with girls to it.
The song’s author and vocalist, Terry Kath, died just eight years after this song was released. He was also Chicago’s lead guitarist. His extended solo on “25 or 6 to 4” mesmerized me when it was first released, and I still enjoy it.
To begin in the dream, my older sister and I were in a walk-in closet. No reason ever became clear as to why we were there. She was chattering, as she’ll sometimes do, which irritated me. A song was playing. The song was muffled, as though it was being heard through walls. I knew the song but I couldn’t place it because of her chattering.
Then I was in a car, driving. My car was fourth in line. We were on a street with a double-yellow line. The three cars ahead of me were on the left side — the wrong side — of the road. I didn’t know why. They were going very slowly. The road was in excellent shape but the fact that we were on road’s wrong side annoyed me. No signs were visible to account for that. I wanted to change over to the right side but not knowing why they were on the left side – what did they know? – kept me behind them, following. I was hugely irked.
Music played then, something about going straight. Then the song, “Amber” by 311 played. I thought amber is all about warning, as in amber flashing lights. “Amber” didn’t end, but “Forty Days and Forty Nights” began. That song, covered by Steppenwolf, was what I’d heard in the closet with my sister.
It was still streaming in my head when I awoke, so here it is, today’s theme music, the Muddy Waters classic as Steppenwolf did it in 1970. Enjoy a little bluesy rock.
Being part of this era of pop-culture and consumer living is wonderful. We witness the rise and fall of trends, and technology grants us visitation rights with what was then and how it was done.
I grew up in the cigarette culture. Born in 1956, the doctors and nurses were probably smoking when I was delivered. Everyone was smoking in the 1960s. Movie and television stars used cigarettes as props for being cool, sophisticated, and fashionable. Mom and Dad smoked while doing everything from working on the car (yeah, that was a thing, then, and it was probably not a safe thing) to entertaining guests. Children stole cigarettes and smoke in secret to be like their parents. A smoky haze filled bars, airplanes, and restaurants.
I didn’t smoke cigarettes. I smoke marijuana, a little hash, and then cigars and pipes, but never cigarettes (yea, me?). I never smoked much of any of it, and quit any smoking thirteen years ago. I have sometimes vaped some marijuana since then.
I was thinking about the cigarette smoking and their commercials, jingles, and slogans. Do you know about those days, when cigarette advertising was as dominant as medicine advertising now is? If not, you should learn about “Tareytons are better, charcoal is why,” and cigarettes that were made for women, or manly cigarettes like Camels and Marlboros, and the meaning behind LSMFT*.
We made fun of it all back then. Winston had a jingle about how good their cigarettes were. I’ve included that below. We sang a different song about Winstons.
“Winstons taste bad, like the one I just had. No filter, no flavor, just toilet paper.”
Michael Seidel, writer 