The holiday season music has brought my favorite holiday song into my stream.
Here’s Bob Rivers with “Walking Round in Women’s Underwear”, a light parody.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Today’s theme music will not be for everyone. I’ll be surprised if anyone likes it, because that’s King Crimson’s nature.
The song, “21st Century Schizoid Man” (1969) was once said to be dedicated to Spiro T. Agnew.
I was biased against Agnew because my eighth grade civics teacher talked at great lengths about him, and didn’t like him at all. She particularly didn’t like how he attacked the press and its coverage of him. You might remember Agnew if you study twentieth century American politics or lived through the times. Agnew was Nixon’s first Veep until he was indicted and resigned after a criminal investigation into Maryland corruption. Whether the song is dedicated to Spiro T. “Ted” Agnew, the song’s lyrics are few but memorable. Here’s a sample for you.
Cat’s foot iron claw
Neuro-surgeons scream for more
At paranoia’s poison door
Twenty first century schizoid man
I’m thinking of this song today because I feel a little bit like a twenty-first century schzoid man on some days. Not today, particularly, but you know, some days.
The Father and Me Dreams
My Dad was a special guest star in my dreams last night. I was a teenager in all of them, not really surprising, because that’s the era of my life that I saw the most of him, as I lived with him for three years after things became dark and unpleasant with Mom’s husband. Then I graduate from high school and left home.
In one memorable part of the dream, Dad and I were following a young tabby cat. The cat had gone down a sidewalk. I hurried after him, and discovered him rolling around on the cement walk in some freshly cut grass.
After that, the dream scenes fluttered and crackled. There was Dad and I driving in a car, and I’m looking out the window, checking out passing scenery. We throw a baseball back and forth in sunshine. I hear his laugh. Dad enjoys laughing.
The dreams grew darker and faster in nature. Then, suddenly, it became “This Is Your Life” from when I was in my mid-teens.
Life wasn’t going well. Most of my time was spent reading books, riding my bike, playing sports, drawing and painting, and listening to music. Although I enjoyed math, history, science, and literature, school was a bore. I was becoming a loner and acted out out a lot, and the dream managed to feature sharp memories of that era. In one sequence, a boy two years younger than me was riding a bike. A bunch of us children were in front of his house on a late summer afternoon. We weren’t doing much but hanging. I think I was fourteen. This kid, though, was riding around and bantering with others. Then I heard my sister say, “He spit on me.”
I don’t believe I’d ever reacted as fast to anything in my life, and I have always, from childhood on to even now, been known for amazingly fast reflexes.
He was riding his bike by me. My hand shot out, caught the rear of his bike and jerked it back, pulling it out from under him. As he fell free, I tossed the bike to one side, stepped forward, grabbed the kid, and hauled him to his feet. I told him he needed to apologize to my sister. I remember that other kids there were freaked out and afraid I was going to do something terrible to the kid. But he apologized to my sister. I released him. He took his bike and ran to his house.
His mother came out and confronted me. I was unapologetic. I told her nobody was going to spit on my sister while I was there. She didn’t know her son had spit on my sister. That changed things.
The scene was just a brief flash in my dream, the part where my sister said, “He spit on me,” and I grabbed his bike. I remembered the rest, along with other memories from that period, after awakening.
The whole dream and memory sequence left me emotionally shaken as I went about my morning routine. As I wondered why I’d dreamed so much about my father and childhood, I reached out to him to ensure he was okay.
Retro
It seems like the Internet was more fun when I was younger, and it was too. I’ve become jaded and cynical, and the net has become commercialized and polarized. Back in those days, I worked in a place where my team were all in cubicles. This parody, based on James Blunt’s hit song, “You’re Beautiful”, put it all in perspective.
Sunday’s Theme Music
A song fragment (songment?) had been trapped in my stream’s turbidity, no quite accreting enough other notes to become fully recalled, and driving me insane. All I could hear is the lead vocalist say, “Come on, move me.” Some guitar then followed.
Four A.M. this morning, the song finally fully entered my stream. It’s a little ditty called “Going Mobile” by a band called “The Who” that was released in 1971. Included on one of my favorite Who albums, Who’s Next, I don’t think of “Going Mobile” as their finest work, with interesting instrumentation lacing together some confusing and conflicting ideas.
Play the tape machine, make the toast and tea
When I’m mobile
Well, I can lay in bed
With only highway ahead
When I’m mobile, keep me moving
Being a literal sort, I always thought, how can he lay in bed with only highway ahead?
At least my brain can rest easy with the song remembered at last, and I can go on with other matters. Back to you, Jim.
Saturday’s Theme Music
Two songs are competing in my stream today. I can’t remember one of them. I remember two lines and a few guitar chords and licks. I hear the vocals, know the voice, but can’t remember the vocalist, song, or group. Using the few clues I have, I’ve hunted for its identification, and I’ve failed to find satisfaction. So, screw you, song.
The other is another Aerosmith song. Reflecting on that, a room mate was forced on me during part of my assignment in the Philippines (1976-1977). Forced is the correct expression because regulations forbid people in my specialty, which involved controlling nuclear launches, from having a room mate. Yet, most of my assignments found me with a room mate for part of the time, as the local commanders would sign a waiver to the reg. Of course, the waiver was usually rescinded after the command got wind of it, and the room mate was found another place to live.
This guy, Eric, was a large Aerosmith fan. He had a huge stereo, big speakers, amp, turntable, tuner, equalizer, tape player, but only four albums. Two of them were Rocks and Toys in the Attic, so I heard them a lot. I realize, that’s why I know those albums so thoroughly.
Anyway, today I’m streaming “Same Old Song and Dance” (1974). Sure, it’s December, a brand spanking new month, the last month of 2018. 2019 and January will soon be on us. But you know, it feels like the same old story, the same old song and dance, my friends.
It’s some ol’ school rock.
Clothing and Cats
Getting ready for Friendsgiving, I selected my attire. I would wear a green vee-neck Tommy Bahama sweater.
I’d bought that sweater the year I moved from Half Moon Bay, California, to Ashland, Oregon, which was 2005. Funny, though, I bought it while on a visit Half Moon Bay to spend Thanksgiving with friends. I bought that sweater a few days before the holiday, and wore it that Thanksgiving. Here I was, thirteen years later, putting it on for another Thanksgiving.
I’d been thinking about my clothes for several previous days before that. The shirt I’d worn earlier that day had been bought in 1998. The one worn the day before was also bought in the late nineties. My shirts, sweaters, and underwear seem to last a while. My jeans and shoes don’t.
I was thinking all of this because I was thinking about cats. I’d moved up with two in 2005, Pogo and Scheckter. Pogo died the following year, killed by a car. His ashes are in our bedroom.
We moved to this new house in 2006, now with just Scheckter. Within three months, we also had Lady and Quinn.
Lady was a rescue. A man I knew through the coffee shop had rescued her. I used to buy him coffee and bagels, and donate cat food to him. Lady had been living behind the movie theater. He started feeding her but it took a year to earn her trust. Now his health was falling and he had to move. Moving meant giving up five of his six cats. He could take one. He had homes for four more. Only Lady, skittish and shy, didn’t have a home.
Then, on a cold, windy midnight, I’d gone out to call Scheckter in. Quinn instead turned up. Since it was a nasty night, we gave him food and shelter. We hunted down his owners and returned him to them, but he kept coming back to us. They moved, leaving him behind.
So, for seven years, it was Scheckter, Lady, and Quinn, three wonderful cats who got along well. 2013 found us losing Scheckter, and then Lady, leaving just Quinn.
Not to worry, though. Three more cats, Tucker, Boo Radley, and Papi (a.k.a. Meep), found us. We were a four-cat family for a while, even though Tucker, Boo, and Papi often fought. As Scheckter and Lady were dying, Tucker showed up and begged for food and help. We tried to find his people but no one claimed him. He had medical issues which took a few years and some money to resolve. Then came Boo, also begging for food, and also unclaimed. Next was Papi.
Quinn remained the sweet lord of the house. He was diagnosed with lymphoma in this past September and died two days before Thanksgiving. He had a strong will until his last four days. I tried keeping him comfortable and helping him, but he finally told me, I’m done. I didn’t want to accept it, but you can’t argue with some things. I cried and let him go.
We’re back down to three cats. They get along better, although there are daily hissing encounters. I couldn’t help but thinking as I dressed on Thanksgiving, I wish my cats would last as long as my clothes.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Today’s song streamed into my head after I thought of another song.
The other song was “Sara Smile”, by Hall and Oates, which I thought of after meeting a friend’s daughter named Sarah. After thinking about it while walking, I remembered “She’s Gone” by the same duo.
“She’s Gone” (1974) came out during a period of struggle in my relationship with my girlfriend. I’d graduated high school and she was traveling Europe with a nun. I felt lost, and ended up enlisting in the military, upsetting just about everyone I knew. That’s life, right? “She’s Gone” appealed to my sense of loss, frustration, searching, and self-pity. I particularly enjoyed the lyrics, “Think I’ll spend eternity in the city. Let the carbon and monoxide choke my thoughts away, yeah.”
What a time. Hormones, you know? Etc.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Today’s theme music comes via Patriot on Amazon. I’ve been watching the first year. I enjoy the underplayed, minimalist, absurdist show, but its opening theme song caught my attention. I felt that I knew it but I didn’t know anything about it.
Wikipedia provided the needed details. “Train Song” by Vashti Bunyan. Originally released in 1966, I thought I knew it from that era, but found that it could have been from exposure as its use in Reebok ads or “True Detective”. Whichever the route, I find it haunting and sweet. In an aside, I discovered Vashti Bunyan has been called the “Godmother of Freak Folk.” Would that be Frock?
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Today’s song emerges from the country-rock genre (crock?) and the mists of 1973. 1973 was a good year and a bad year, a memorable year and a forgettable year, a year of tests and trials and learning, and a year of growing, wondering, coping with hormones, and passing days doin’ nothin’. I was seventeen for ’bout half of the year, and sixteen for the other half.
“Amie”, by Pure Prairie League, is a light melody with folkish overtones. The lyrics are easy to hear, learn, and remember. It’s a good song to sing to your floofs, should you feel a need to sing to them.
As always, the lyrics catch me. When hearing the song, you might think, this is about the singer trying to woe Amie. It’s not. This is about the man’s ambivalence about his relationship with Amie, and her decision to move on. Meanwhile, he laments that she’s taking so long to decide. The decision’s been made, dude.
Don’t you think the time is right for us to find
All the things we thought weren’t proper could be right in time?
And can you see which way we should turn, together or alone?
I can never see what’s right or what is wrong
Oh, you take too long
Read more: Pure Prairie League – Amie Lyrics | MetroLyrics
Most telling is at the end, as he sings, “I keep falling in and out of love with you.” Amie knows this, and she’s tired of it. That’s why he’s asking, “Aime, what you wanna do?” He’s in full denial and full of hope.
She is not.
NOTE: This analysis is my own. As with anything I say or write, it could be complete bullshit. Just think of it as Schrödinger’s bullshit.
Michael Seidel, writer 