Remembering 2001 and thinking about the current crises — yeah, there’s a lot going on in parallel — brought 2001 Train song, “Drops of Jupiter”, to mind. The words appeal to my maudlin side and lift me.
But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet? Did you finally get the chance To dance along the light of day And head back to the Milky Way? And tell me, did Venus blow your mind? Was it everything you wanted to find? And did you miss me while you were Looking for yourself out there?
Sorry, a bit down today. As I awoke and wrestled with dreams and thoughts about recent events, Frank Sinatra began singing “That’s Life”. It rolled into Dire Straits and “The Walk of Life”.
Getting up, though, I stared out at the smoky air and heard Pink Floyd, “Breathe” and then the Police, “Every Breath You Take”.
It looks like a nuclear winter out there. Gray, fouled air, no sun, no life. People are sequestered in their homes so the usual parade of hikers, walkers, and cyclists are gone. Tourists have left town, leaving the streets empty. I haven’t heard nor seen the usual birds, or any deer. Hope they’re all safe somewhere.
Nuclear thoughts brought up “Radioactive” by The Firm and then the Imagine Dragons song.
None of these are good for a theme song on such a down day. I challenged my mind to find me something perkier. Being the asshole that it is, my mind responded with “Yummy Yummy Yummy”.
I wasn’t amused. Come on, shake it off, I told myself. That invited Taylor Swift’s 2015 pop song, “Shake It Off”.
No. Sorry.
Finally decided on an old Coldplay song. Not really lively as I wanted, but reflects my hope.
Floofhat (floofinition) – Formed in London, Floofland in 1971, Floofhat is a floof rock (flock) band noted for incorporating the slide guitar in their songs. Initially active until 1984, the band took a floofatus before regrouping in 1993. They remain active to this day.
In use: “The 1975 Floofhat song, “Slow Floof”, from their album Fool for the Kibble, broke into the top twenty in Canfloofda and Floofmerica.”
Yesterday’s sun was a pale red imitation of its usual glory, keeping temperatures down, but, man, that smoke. Health experts are saying that Oregon’s smoke has gone off the chart and is the worse in the world in some places.
Because of all this, we were keeping the cats in. Tucker was good about it. After showing interest in leaving, he shrugged, swished his tail, washed his chest, curled up, and went to sleep. Boo was erratic, insisting on trying to leave before finally settling by my feet.
But young Papi…oh, boy. The ginger wonder insisted every few hours through the night, “I must leeeaaavvveee.” I finally gave in to him at eight thirty this morning. Then I had to mask up, go out and call him back.*
Which brings me to today’s music. It came to me as I walked around calling the boy. Here’s The Proclaimers with “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” from 1983.
*(And now, the ginger glory is sitting here, staring at me and mewing, “I must leeeaaavvveee…”)
Alice Floofer (floofinition) – Floofmerican hard rock band formed in 1964 in Arizona. Needing a gimmick to draw greater attention, the group changed its name to Alice Floofer, with the lead singer eventually following suit, becoming the first singer to be named after their floofsical act.
In use: “One of Alice Floofer’s largest and earliest hit songs was “Floof’s Out” in 1972, a song about the end of the school year, whose use in floof culture keeps it alive and meaningful.”
A dull red sun is struggling to light the morning, but smoky air lays siege to the sunshine.
This is morning. The windows are closed tight. Per government and health experts’ recommendations, we stay indoors and avoid outside activities. The air is unhealthy. If you must go outside, wear masks…
Yeah, not going into all the smoke and COVID-19 mask-wearing comparisons. That knotty logic against wearing masks, no matter what, is beyond my pre-coffee mind. I cannot help but think that this smoke and unhealthy air is going to cause a COVID-19 spike. See, in my limited and uninformed view, the smoke will affect our lungs, eyes, mucus members, sinuses and airways. We’ll sneeze and cough to eject the offending particles. That greater and more frequent force will launch more COVID-19 particles into the air. Those without masks, well, are more exposed. Additionally, the smoke will impact our bodies, creating or feeding underlying conditions, increasing vulnerabilities that the novel coronavirus will exploit. Finally, as people are being forced together to shelter, potential super-spreader events are being created.
But that’s just me, and my fiction-writing mind.
Back to the music. This sun color kicks in songs about the sun. The old pop tune “Red Rubber Ball” (The Cyrkle (had to look that up), 1966), about a relationship and taking new positive energy from the sunrise, doesn’t quite work for me for this situation.
No, I think it’s more of a somber, reflective, “Tequila Sunrise” morning.
Atlanta Rhythm Floofs(floofinition) – Sometimes shortened to ARF (to the amusement of the canine members and canine fans), Atlanta Rhythm Floofs are a floof rock (flock) pop band formed in Doraville, outside of Atlanta, GA, in 1971 and released their first album in 1972.
In use: “The Atlanta Rhythm Floofs (ARF) struck gold with several hits in the seventies with songs like “So in to Floof” and “Champagne Floof” expanding the group’s fan base.”
As I was in the bathroom cleaning up and doing things (I farted the opening chords to Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water”, for which I’m pleased, proud, and embarrassed), another song kicked into my head. Don’t know why it started. As it won’t leave, I’m sharing it to drive it out of my mind before I go out of my mind.
A rough night culminated in late slumber that ended with a dream and music.
I’ve posted “Highway Star'” by Deep Purple here before, but it was in my dream, so I thought I’d stay with it. It was the live version from their Made in Japan album, 1972. I had that album and used to listen to it at ear-bleeding levels. It’s a damn intense, unrelenting song, an eruption of unapologetic rock, almost to such levels that it’s parody.
Here it is, the looonnng live version, fresh from ’72.
Michael Seidel, writer 