Category Archives: Music

Some are mathematicians, some are carpenters’ wives…

I’d like to point out that this is one of those blogs that I thought of the title of first, and I spelled “Mathematicians” correctly the first time through. THAT is PROGRESS.

I’m having one of those “Every song ever written is great” sort of days. Where I could do nothing but sit in a room and listen to music nonstop — I do this at least once a week. Usually it’s happy stuff, or something that’s sparked by a memory, whatever. Today, it’s been maudlin and a bit dreamy-sappy. And I’ve just let it happen. Maybe it’s because my music player is shuffling with the best of them tonight  — I’ve heard a lot of great songs on this holiday Thursday — it’s the Fourth of July, I’m in the ESPN newsroom, and the only thing going on is the rent. And a few baseball games. But meanwhile, I’ve been in a weird place the last few days. Not sure why, perhaps it’s the summertime blues, for which we all know there is no cure.

Regardless, the only thing that has really helped break my malaise has been the occasional moment alone with the headphones on.

Which brings me back to the title. “Tangled Up in Blue” is one of those songs that I always like, but on days like these, I truly, deeply FEEL. Near tears all day long, I’ve tried to figure out why. It’s probably due more to the fact that it’s really hot out and I hate heat, and I’m really tired after the NBA draft, and I’m just kinda whiny with all kinds of first-world problems. Oh, I can add this in too — my favorite baseball team, the Brewers, is playing really badly and my favorite player on said team, Ryan Braun, who I’d like to think will be my betrothed someday, has been on the DL for weeks. Like I said, first-world problems.

Anyway, through my veil of tears, faux, reasonable or otherwise, on my way to work today, I heard “Mother of Pearl” by Roxy Music, which wins the Favorite Song of the Last Two Years award, if that were a real thing. Damn  — if you don’t know that song, listen to it. Research it.  It’s not particularly sad, but it reminds me of leaving Oklahoma… I listened to this about 100 times a day my last few months in Oklahoma.

I got to work, where the sports news was slow, so I went to get a Diet Coke. On my way, I realized it’s been 10 years to the day since I saw my mother. She died on July 11, but July 4 was the last time we saw her at the hospital still alive, though she was barely that then. The week after, we shut off her machines. July 4 was when we had the meeting to decide her fate. And that made me cry in the elevator. I stepped off, stopped by the ladies room, cried some more, came out of the stall, tried to look like I wasn’t crying, and went back to the newsroom. Fortunately there was hardly anyone there.

A good cry in the bathroom at work kind of did the trick for a few hours. I didn’t really feel like talking, so I put on my headphones and immersed myself in my little world of melancholia and subversion. I was not let down– “Monkey Man” by the Rolling Stones, “Behind Blue Eyes” by The Who, “Stand Beside Me” by Hothouse Flowers, ” “California” by Liz Phair, even “Unsung” by Helmet… all special to me in some silly way or other.

Then the hammer fell: “Southern Cross, ” Crosby, Stills and Nash. My mom’s favorite and also in my top three favorite songs.

I had to turn it off before I created a scene in the newsroom. I got up and talked to some co-workers and now my inner stage play seems to have taken a somewhat happier turn.

I’m not sure what causes these weird moods in me. I like to think it’s something simple, like a vitamin deficiency or hormones. But chances are, I’m just, like I said, tired, cranky and possibly irritated that I’m working on the Fourth of July. But it could be worse… I could be unemployed and not working at a place I’m very happy to work.

In a few days, that’ll make me happy again. For today, apparently I’m wallowing. So bring it on. I’m armed with 25,000-plus songs, a few of which will surely keep me going.

2 Comments

Filed under Baseball, Brain Disorders, Brewers, Connecticut, ESPN, General Nonsense, Music, Ryan Braun, Sports

Part 4: Hart Songs, The Revolutionary and The Sexy

Yeah, so the next part took some time to post. But I hope it’s worth the wait. I’d like to tell you I was out on adventures and that why I didn’t just post all this, but truthfully, I was just watching  lot of sports. And subsequently being very sad about sports. Still, Thunder Up, etc., Enjoy The Social Commentary and The Sexy, the final chapter of my emo blog series.

THE SOCIAL COMMENTARY

“Romeo Had Juliette,” Lou Reed

In what is a sort of love sonnet and social criticism of New York, Lou Reed’s album – aptly named “New York” – is a snapshot of a seedy side of the city, one that gets all the glamour headlines but whose dark side is ultimately more interesting and celebrated… there are several songs on this album that reflect the pre-9/11 New York, pre-Guiliani, pre-cleanup phase. It’s gorgeous… so much dirt and grime, shots and crime, all wrapped in a hairnet and spat out by one of the coolest people on the planet, Lou Reed. This song is revolutionary to me in a lot of ways because it’s a big Fuck You to The Man, but at its roots it’s  a love song… but just one that makes you want to fight.

I can’t pick out just one verse, so here they all are:

Caught between the twisted stars
the plotted lines the faulty map
that brought Columbus to New York
Betwixt between the East and West
he calls on her wearing a leather vest
the earth squeals and shudders to a halt
A diamond crucifix in his ear
is used to help ward off the fear
that he has left his soul in someone’s rented car
Inside his pants he hides a mop
to clean the mess that he has dropped
into the life of lithesome Juliette Bell
 
And Romeo wanted Juliette
and Juliette wanted Romeo
And Romeo wanted Juliette
and Juliette wanted Romeo
 
Romeo Rodriguez squares
his shoulders and curses Jesus
runs a comb through his black pony-tail
He’s thinking of his lonely room
the sink that by his bed gives off a stink
then smells her perfume in his eyes
And her voice was like a bell
 
Outside the street were steaming the crack
dealers were dreaming
of an Uzi someone had just scored
I betcha I could hit that light
with my one good arm behind my back
says little Joey Diaz
Brother give me another tote
those downtown hoods are no damn good
those Italians need a lesson to be taught
This cop who died in Harlem
you think they’d get the warnin’
I was dancing when his brains run out on the street
 
And Romeo had Juliette
and Juliette had her Romeo
And Romeo had Juliette
and Juliette had her Romeo
 
I’ll take Manhattan in a garbage bag
with Latin written on it that says
“it’s hard to give a shit these days”
Manhattan’s sinking like a rock
into the filthy Hudson what a shock
they wrote a book about it
they said it was like ancient Rome
 
The perfume burned his eyes
holding tightly to her thighs
And something flickered for a minute
and then it vanished and was gone
 

Black Gold,” Soul Asylum

This is not one of Soul Asylum’s hits, though they did have a video for it. And believe it or not, SA had a lot of good song before that horrible “Runaway Train” song that played relentlessly throughout most of the early 90s. For Pete’s sake – Dave Pirner is mentioned in a Liz Phair song, so you know they have to have some sort of coolness about them. “Black Gold” is a song that has a lot of meanings depending on who’s listening. Pirner said it was anti-war, Black Gold in this case meaning oil, but I take it differently. I love when a song can transcend it original meaning. The lyrics remind me of Muskogee, Oklahoma, where I grew up and experienced first-hand what racial violence can do to a town. So much hatred, so many fights and riots, so much stupid fear. I left Muskogee because of that shit.

Two boys on a playground
Tryin’ to push each other down
See the crowd gather ’round
Nothing attracts a crowd like a crowdBlack gold in a white plight
Won’t you fill up the tank, let’s go for a ride
I don’t care ’bout no wheelchair
I’ve got so much left to do with my life

Moving backwards through time
Never learn, never mind
That side’s yours, this side’s mine
Brother you ain’t my kind

You’re a black soldier, white fight
Won’t you fill up the tank, let’s go for a ride
Sure like to feel some pride
But this place just makes me feel sad inside

Mother, do you know where your kids are tonight?

Keeps the kids off the streets
Gives ’em something to do, something to eat
This spot was a playground
This flat land used to be a town

Black gold in a white plight
Won’t you fill up the tank, let’s go for a ride
Sure like to feel some pride
But this place just makes me feel sad inside

Black gold in a white plight
Won’t you fill up the tank, let’s go for a ride
I don’t care ’bout no wheelchair
I’ve got so much left to do with my life.”

 

Gets me every time – sadness for my hometown, revolutionary “We can make this world better” feelings, my civil rights gene… all activated and on high alert.

THE SEXY

To remain somewhat modest, I won’t go into a lot of detail here. These are the … ummm… loin-stirrers? Now I’m embarrassed. But you get it.

“Slow and Easy,” Whitesnake

There is not a sexier sound in the world than David Coverdale saying “To the Bone.”

“Nasty Girl,” Vanity

Before she went uber-Christian, Vanity wrote a dirty lil’ ditty that is just … good n’ sexy.

“Naughty Girl,” Beyonce

… And Beyonce, uber-sexy just singing “Happy Birthday,” countered Vanity with a modern version.

Love Interruption,” Jack White

Jack White, he of the tortured sexiness, nails it (wow) in this one. He makes the list with a lot of other songs (“Ball and a Biscuit,” “Sugar Never Tasted So Good” ) but this one is just pure sexiness. And I’m not sure why I find him so attractive. I think it’s his talent.

“All Night Thing,” Temple of the Dog

I had some impure thoughts about Chris Cornell. Then someone told me I looked like him. That kinda broke my mind.

“Say Goodbye,” Dave Matthews

Listen to the lyrics of this song. And if you haven’t lived this moment, you don’t get it. If you have, you want to call up that person and demand a repeat performance. Sheesh.

“Love Trilogy,” Red Hot Chili Peppers

I loathe new RHCP. LOATHE it. But their first three-ish albums were just great, and this little sexy gem is off “Uplift Mofo Party Plan.” The meter of the song is why it’s sexy – and the lyrics, of course – but the – ahem – climax – of the song really explain its meaning.

“The Right Thing,” Simply Red

I had no idea this song was so perverse until I read the lyrics. I’ve always loved it, but wow – it’s kinda dirty. In a good way.

OK, that’s it, until I have another day of emo or crazy emotion. Thanks for reading, and share what y0ur emotional songs are with me and why. That shit fascinates me.

Leave a comment

Filed under Music, Relationships

Hart Songs: Part 3, Soul-Stirring

I vowed yesterday — no more sadness. So here we go, no sad tears, only thoughtful reflections (I don’t mean to sound like a crazy new-age hippie. I eat meat and go to Target and love shopping and technology, so you know that ain’t me.) But because I’m a writer first, I’m always extrapolating concepts from songs, TV, movies, everyday conversation, looking for meaning, even when it’s not there. OK, a lot of when it’s not there. It’s a strange kind of narcissism, I guess, to try to insert yourself into everything. But alas, I can’t do anything about it but accept it. And say thanks for the songs that really GRAB me. There are many — a lot of which I can’t explain, like the entire Tripping Daisy album “I Am An Elastic Firecracker.” But here are three that come to mind…

Oh, and to recap, this is part 3 of a blog series about songs that elicit emotion. Blah blah blah.

THE SOUL-STIRRING

 “This Is It (Your Soul), Hothouse Flowers

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xjw5x2_this-is-it-your-soul_music

I don’t think the auto-play thing on here is gonna work. Click it. It’s worth it.

This is one of those songs I missed in the 90s, and probably wouldn’t have appreciated either way, because the message is more mature, more for the world-weary life traveler. I, like all of y’all, have had a tough time here or there, and that’s what’s made me who I am now. I’m finally – FINALLY – understanding what the hell life is about, and it’s not about worry, fear and strife, not about making yourself anything it’s not meant to be. One night a few months ago I was downloading music – Echo and the Bunnymen, I think – and Hothouse Flowers was suggested. I remembered hearing about them back in the day, so I sampled one of the songs, and somehow found this one. From the first verse, I was inspired. This song is pure magic, and it’s pure genius too. And not to go all softy-Sarah-Feelgood on you, but it’s good for your soul to listen to this kind of stuff every now and then. It’s not cheesy. It’s just … happy.

 You’ve been disturbed from your sleep
You’ve been laid down on the floor
You’ve been looking around for your family
Now your body’s tired and sore
Well there’s rest that’s in the water
And there’s an answer on the streets
And if you take the time to listen
There’s a chance you will meet
Your soul
This is it… This is your soul”
 “And they’re talking at you not with you
And you’re bored with what’s around
And you’ve tried all the quacks, all the doctors and all you really need
And all you really need is a healing sound
 But just listen to the waters
Find the answer on the street
Because now it’s time to listen, now it’s time to meet
Your soul, now this is it
It’s time to meet your soul
Your crying soul
This is your soul
Set free your soul”
 

 Southern Cross,” Crosby, Still and Nash

Not only does this have the dubious honor of making my emotional list, it’s my all-time favorite song – I think. It’s about sailing. It’s about love. It’s about breakups. It’s about love of music. It’s about ME. Every lyric of this song is beautiful, and I got back and forth as to what my favorite is. I think the perennial favorite is this:

 “So we cheated and we lied
And we tested
And we never failed to fail
It was the easiest thing to do.
You will survive being bested.
Somebody fine
Will come along
Make me forget about loving you.
At the Southern Cross.”

 So much majesty. Damn I love this song. It was among  my mother’s favorites too. Back in the day when I still had a clock radio, this song would often be on the station I set the radio to, 103.3 in Tulsa. Those mornings, I would roll over in bed and just absorb the song. It probably doesn’t hurt that I have a romantic notion of living on a boat someday…

 

 Rain King,” Counting Crows

While a great deal of CC’s songs could end up on the Sad Song List (“High Life” and “Sullivan Street” come to mind), this song is just downright uplifting. It makes me want to run really fast down a hill, flailing my arms. To me, it’s a reminder to, you know, live your life to the fullest and shit.

 “When I think of heaven (Deliver me in a black-winged bird)
I think of dying Lay me down in a field of flame and heather
Render up my body into the burning heart of God in the belly of a black-winged bird
Don’t try to bleed me
I’ve been here before and I deserve a little more
 I belong in the service of the Queen
I belong anywhere but in between
She’s been dying
I been drinking and I am the Rain King.”
 

 OK, tomorrow we’ll deal with social commentary songs — the revolution-starters…

Leave a comment

Filed under Music, Relationships

Hart Songs: Part 2, The Sad

As I said, the sad songs say so much… Here’s part 2, and I promise the next parts won’t be gut-wrenching like this one (0r maybe that’s just me.) To recap, I had an emo day the other day that prompted me to think about all the songs that always elicit an emotional response. So here goes, Part 2.

THE SAD

To Make You Feel My Love,”
written by Bob Dylan, but Garth Brooks’ version

One weekend in Weleetka, Oklahoma, when my mom was still alive and had just bought Garth’s complete collection on CD, she forced me to stand with her in the laundry room and listen to the words to this song. “This is how I feel about you and Nick (my brother)” she told me. I’m crying just thinking about this… It’s a love song, but the fact that my mom thought of her children when she heard it makes it so much more special to me, and since her death, sad. My mom always told me she’d die young. She was right. But she left me with a lifetime of memories, and I never doubted her love.

 “I know you haven’t made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I’ve known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong.
 I’d go hungry, I’d go black and blue
I’d go crawlin’ down the avenue
No, there’s nothin’ that I wouldn’t do
To make you feel my love.
 There ain’t nothing that I wouldn’t do.
Go to the ends of the earth for you.
Make you happy; make your dreams come true.
To make you feel my love.”

 Garth’s version is the one I like best, because of that moment. Doesn’t take away the fact that the greatest songwriter in history wrote it. Thanks, Bob, once again for the lyrics, and thanks, Garth, for the moment.

 “You’re the Reason God Make Oklahoma,”
David Frizzell and Shelly West

It’s pretty obvious why this song would make me sad, if you know me just a little bit. It made me love Oklahoma and tear up even when I lived there. Alas, I had to leave to stake out my fortunes elsewhere. But it’s where my home and heart remains, where my people are buried, and where I will probably be buried too. I heard this song during an hourlong stint in Dallas traffic when I was in my mid-20s and living in the DFW area. I was back in Oklahoma within a month.

The fact that the song centers on the best part of Oklahoma is probably not on purpose, but Northeastern Oklahoma gets all the love — with good reason. From the opening guitar, I’m a puddle.

This Woman’s Work,” Kate Bush

This is the song that I heard the morning after my emo night, prompting this blog series. It is a relatively new entry in the Make Sarah Cry files. Geez that woman can sing. When you know that the song was written for the movie “She’s Having a Baby,” and is used in the scene where Kevin Bacon is learning that his wife and child are in danger during childbirth, it pulls those ol’ heartstrings but good. Maxwell also did a version, but Kate’s sweet, innocent voice adds the drama.

 “Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman’s work,
This woman’s world.
Ooh, it’s hard on the man,
Now his part is over.
Now starts the craft of the father.
 
I know you’ve got a little life in you yet.
I know you’ve got a lot of strength left.
I know you’ve got a little life in you yet.
I know you’ve got a lot of strength left.
 I should be crying, but I just can’t let it go.
I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking
 Of all the things I should’ve said,
That I never said.
All the things we should’ve done,
Though we never did.
All the things I should’ve given,
But I didn’t.
 Oh, darling, make it go,
Make it go away.”

 Waaaaah.

And let’s go for a happier subject, shall we?

 

Leave a comment

Filed under General Nonsense, Music, Oklahoma, Relationships, Women

Hart Songs, Part 1 (Love)

I had a bit of an emo day yesterday – not the type where I felt sorry for myself, just a bit darker than I usually am. Not sure where this came from, but it kind of crept up on me and before I knew it, I was listening to Modest Mouse and not talking to anyone. I had a tummy ache too. Maybe the two are exclusive.

I woke up today all better, but with a strong desire to clean the house. The lazy person who lives inside me wanted me to lie on the couch. I balanced both urges, hence this blog post, inspired by a rare day of moodiness (I like to think I’m happy all the time. Perhaps I’m fooling myself – I don’t care.) Then I turned on my music and the first song out of the chute was one that had I heard it last night, I might’ve gone all Ophelia. (Just being dramatic… promise.)

So I gotz to thinkin’ – what songs always – ALWAYS – elicit some sort of reaction from me, be it crying (usually as I’m a big giant sap), revolutionary moments, anger… what have you. The list is pretty long, but here are some highlights and reasons.

NOTE — I started writing. And dude, I just wrote and wrote. So I’ll break it up into a series. In no particular order.

THE LOVE SONGS

Sure, it’s the most-addressed topic in the world, and everyone’s got their favorites. Here are a few of my most sentimental ones. I should also preface this list the fact that I’m just a hopeless, weirdo romantic whose idea of love is best summed between Doc Holliday and Kate the Prostitute in “Tombstone.” So perhaps I have weird taste I love songs.

“Watch Closely Now,” Kris Kristofferson

If you haven’t seen the Barbra Streisand-KK version of “A Star is Born,” You don’t know what you’re missing. It’s superb. And this song falls very near the top of the all-time favorite list too. It’s a growly, sexy rock song that is a more raw version of the love song.

 “Watch closely now
You’ll observe a curious exchange of energy
Are you a figment of my imagination
Or I one of yours?
 Watch closely now – are you watching me now?
Your eyes are like fingers
They’re touching my body and arousing my soul
Ridin’ the passion arisin’ inside me
How high can I go?
You’re comin’ with me girl
I’m gonna show you how
When it’s scary, don’t look down
 Watch closely now – are you watching me now?
I see the hunger arise in your eyes and it’s a-urging me on
Higher and harder and faster and farther
Than I’ve ever gone
You’re comin’ closer lady
Don’t ya leave me now
We’re gonna make it
Don’t look down
 Watch closely now – are you watching me now?
I’m the master magician, who’s setting you free
From the lies you’ve been told
When they’re breaking your back
Bring your last straw to me
I turn straw into gold
I’m gonna need you later
When you’re not around
But I can take it
Don’t look down
 Watch closely now
Are you watching me now?…”
 

“La Vie En Rose,” Edith Piaf and/or Louis Armstrong

I get it. Paris is romantic. I’ve never been. I’m still waiting, because I want it to be like this. Did I mention I’m incurable?

  

“Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose
When you kiss me, heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose
When you press me to your heart
I’m in a world apart
A world where roses bloom
And when you speak, angels sing from above
Everyday words seem to turn
Into love songs
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose
 

“I Love You, Always Forever,” Donna Lewis

I admit to liking some cheesy music, some not-so-cool, proves-I’m-not-a-hipster stuff, and this is probably the quintessential song for that assertion. But dammit if it’s not a beautiful love song that I hope to better understand someday, as true love has managed to evade me lo these many years.

“You’ve got the most unbelievable blue eyes I’ve ever seen
You’ve got me almost melting away
As we lay there under blue sky with pure white stars
Exotic sweetness a magical time”

Ah, it’s sticky sweet, but it affects me. Can’t do anything about that. Just have to let it envelope me… and gush like a sissy.

Love Is Alive,” The Judds

The idea of love over a simple everyday breakfast table is just so charming and alluring. This is the Judds at their absolute finest.

Love ain’t a candle
It doesn’t burn for one night
And need the dark to shine
Love is alive
And love ain’t just a word
In every dictionary
With no where defined
Love is a man and he’s mine
Love is alive and at breakfast table
Every day of the week
Love is alive and it grows every day and night
Even in our sleep
Love is alive and it’s made a happy woman out of me
Oh, love is alive and here by me
 

“Time and Tide,” Basia

Once upon a time, I thought I’d found The One, stupidly, and this song was sort of my anthem then, and when that relationship fizzled, I kind of started hating the song. I haven’t been “In Love” since then (quotes intended, as who knows if I was really in love then) but I can listen to this song again and realize why I liked it to begin with. My mom, who was married five times and was an incurable romantic, loved this song. I don’t know who it reminded her of. One of the mysteries she died with.

 “It’s hard for me to stop my heart
Love never knows when the time is right
I don’t want to hurt anybody but
Can’t help loving you
I never felt like this before
I know this is passion worth waiting for
Let life take its course
That’s the only thing for us to do
We’ve got time, oh baby
There’s no rush gonna be a better day for us
Hang on and I will wait for you
Our love will always stay as good as new”

… and the Old Faithfuls

“Indian Summer,” The Doors

“If I Needed You,” Townes Van Zandt

“Visions of Johanna,” Bob Dylan

Up next, the sad songs… because they say so much.

Leave a comment

Filed under Fun!, General Nonsense, Music, Relationships, Women

My Music: I Got 1995 Problems and Justin Bieber Ain’t One

A NOTE ON THE TITLE: In coming up for a title for this blog, I had a lot of ideas: “How the 90s Saved Music,” “My Songs Are Better than Your Songs,” or just “I’m Old,” but I took the cheap, easy, Google-would-find-send-people-here-faster method: Mention The Beebs.

Sorry to disappoint the teenage girls, but this blog is about music made before your time. But if you want to learn about stuff that’s way better — I mean WAAAAY better than JB, read on.

This was probably more like 1990, but I like the angsty look in my eyes. It forecasts the angst to come.  (Note  -- I wasn't all that  angsty, it was kind of an act.)

This was probably more like 1990, but I like the angsty look in my eyes. It forecasts the angst to come. (Note — I wasn’t all that angsty, it was kind of an act.)

It was a hazy summer day in 1995, I seem to recall, and I was driving in my hooptie car through the streets of Tahlequah — probably trying to get my mind off someone, possibly late to something. Most definitely broke off my ass. I was listening to “I Stay Away,” the Alice In Chains song from “Jar of Flies,” which I’m sure I’d copied from CD onto a tape because that’s all I had in my car — and the lyrics really took hold: “Why you act crazy/not an act maybe/So close a lady/shifty eyes shady…”

I knew then that I would apply to whomever I was thinking about a Good Ol’ Fashioned Lettin’ Alone, to borrow my mother’s phrase. That meant the ice queen routine. I’m not good at it naturally so I’m sure there was mental preparation that had to be done.

But the other thing I remembered at that moment, and over the course of the 1990s, was that I was living in A Time. I feel sorry for folks who didn’t live in A Time. My parents did — the late sixties and 70s — but I’m not sure kids these days, even those my younger siblings’ age, are part of A Time.

I not only lived in the death of disco days, but also the dawn of punk, New Wave, the second British Invasion (think Duran Duran), the glam and/or death metal days, and when Motley Crue handed over their rusty needles to Guns N’ Roses, who then had those same needles snatched, unwittingly, from their fists by the pale, shaky fingers of Kurt Cobain and his ilk.

I loved a great deal of it. Now, at 38, I feel out of touch with modern music. I like some of it, but none of it grabs me by the short and curlies like it used to. And if a song does, usually the whole album won’t. There are a few exceptions, but most involve Jack White in one way or another, and he’s a throwback to another generation. I think Nirvana would even let him in retroactively if they could.

It’s  now an iTunes world, and it’s not my favorite. You download one song, listen to it, and forget the band exists. I’m as guilty of it as the next gal. I hear a song on a commercial, download it and talk about it for a week or so, then it kind of disappears from my memory. 

I guess the music that I — a pushing 40-pop culture savant who has absorbed every song she’s ever heard since age 3 but couldn’t point out a direction if rabid, ravenous

Where have you gone, Joe Dimaggio?

Where have you gone, Joe Dimaggio?

bears learned to speak English and demanded she tell them which was was north, and who sometimes forgets left and right —  claim as My Music is from A Time called the Early 90s — even though I feel ownership of a lot of 80s stuff too.

But the stuff that really stabs me in the gut with nostalgia is grunge-alternative from the 90s. I started college in August 1992, and had purchased Nirvana’s “Nevermind” on a trip to visit my soon-to-be college in October 1991. I bought it on a whim. Just like Smashing Pumpkins’ “Gish.” Good whims, since I still listen to both.

My era, for me, was the best, most profound, most relatable — but my parents, though they scoffed at the hippie movement, probably thought the same thing about their music. My mom was into Gram Parson, Emmylou Harris, Neil Young; my father liked The Band, Black Oak Arkansas, Santana, stuff like that. Both liked Leon Russell, Delaney and Bonnie, good ol’ Rock N’ Roll. I remember asking my mom why she didn’t like the Beatles. She said she didn’t NOT like them, but everyone liked them, so she wasn’t that into it. My mom was an effing hipster. Looking back on it now, she listened to NPR, obscure Americana, and she knew Norah Jones a full six months before anyone else. Dammit, she was a hipster! And don’t get me started on my dad, who is still so cool it’s ridiculous. But he doesn’t listen to the old stuff anymore… he’s embraced modern music. I don’t understand it, but maybe it’ll happen to me too.

Yes, a lot of us girls just thought Eddie was cute. Still, we got him.

Yes, a lot of us girls just thought Eddie was cute. Still, we got him.

Still, I have kind of a hipster-y  arrogance about some stuff from the 1990s — Pearl Jam, Nirvana being the big two that everyone knew and always connect to the so-called “grunge” movement — but I think they so perfectly embodied that time in my life, I can’t ignore them.

For the bands, I think the grunge movement started because someone in Seattle was cold and put on a flannel. They were angry at being cold, probably because a parent/loved one/ex had quit paying for heat. Hence the flannel an pre-emo (or Preemo, if you like) sound of the early 90s. (I may be simplifying. I do that.)

In 1992, I turned 18 and was free of all parental rule, experiencing life at every turn. I think I’m so damned lucky to have come of age when “Alive” by Pearl Jam was new and in heavy radio rotation, when you had to go out and buy the albums, and because it cost 15 fucking dollars and you worked for scraps at some restaurant, you were BY GOD gonna listen to every last note of that sumbitch. Hence my love for the entirety of the Liz Phair, Mother Love Bone, Sonic Youth, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, Blind Melon, PJ Harvey etc. etc. — music wasn’t background in my friends circle. It was often talked over, but at least in my case, it was absorbed at the same tie, locked into a vault in my head to be attached to a time and place forever. And if it was talked over too much, you just casually walked over to the CD player and hit the repeat button. Or told one of those loud theater people to shut up.

None of us were ever a cool as PJ Harvey.

None of us were ever a cool as PJ Harvey.

But anyway — that day in 1995 — when I listened to “I Stay Away” in the car alone, of course heartbroken, possibly stoned, undoubtedly neurotic — is etched in my memory forever. I have so many of those moments, and I can’t help but think the music of my era is just… better. 

Many of these songs, from their opening strain, take me back to smoky dorm rooms, dirty living rooms and bathrooms you wish you didn’t have to use, strange car trips and radios blaring at the Illinois River — and they aren’t necessarily my favorite songs of the time. They certainly wouldn’t pass the hipster test — manywere huge to a lot of people. But I don’t care. So without further ado, here’s the greatest hits of the soundtrack of my formative years…

* Loser, Beck: This may be THE anthem for THE time of my life. It certainly felt like it kicked off my generation of music. I didn’t have MTV, I didn’t know if there was a video or anything like that. I just kind of lived, taping bits of things off the radio onto my own little mix tapes… Now I have literally thousands of songs and implements to play them. It’s a wealth of riches, and I kinda feel guilty about it. And on the MTV note, I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever seen this video…so here goes.

* Low, Cracker: I remember getting really, really tired of this song. But listening to it now, it’s like a first-class ticket to memory lane, and it’s still a damn good song. It’s not indicative of the whole of Cracker’s catalog — kind of a dark detour for a pretty sunny/snarky lil’ band. But this is how most people know them, though they should be listening to the eponymous album — it’s so, so good.

* Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns, Mother Love Bone: The anthem of the last Gen X’ers. It is so Seattle it spread through the Midwest, spraying Seattle Glitter all over it. It might have missed the greater part of the generation if not for the anthemic ’90s movie “Singles.” The first time I heard MLB was on “Singles.” The soundtrack itself contains many of the songs that put me right back in the thick of it. But this song… it has made me cry, it has made me reflective, it has made me laugh. Now it rips my guts open with memory and nostalgia, and a bit of pride, again, at having been lucky enough to live through this.

* So on that note, “Seasons,” Chris Cornell. “And I’m lost behind the words I cannot find.” I, never at a loss for words, can have the hardest time communicating how I feel abut someone. Probably always will, which is why many times these things have just gone unsaid.

Summer nights and long warm days
Are stolen as the old moon falls
Mirror shows another face
Another place to hide it all
Another place to hide it all
I’m lost behind the words I’ll never find
I’m left behind as the seasons roll on by
Sleeping with a full moon blanket
Sand and feathers for my head
Dreams have never been the answer
Dreams have never made my bed
Dreams have never made my bed
I’m lost behind words I’ll never find
I’m left behind as the seasons roll on by

* X-Ray Man, Liz Phair: Really, everything off her first 3.5 albums is pure rocket fuel into my past. But this was one of my early favorites: “You’re an X-ray man/You got white wall tires/Iodine tan/Cheap unpleasant desires… You’re an X-ray man/Got an X-rated mind/You’re not satisfied looking at me, you’re always Checking out the girl behind.” Pretty much sums up every guy I’ve ever liked.

* Porch, Pearl Jam: I have this thing where I seem to like the No. 8 song on most CDs. Something I noticed when I was un-sober once, I’m sure. “Porch is No. 8 on Pearl Jam’s eponymous album, and while I’m sure Eddie Vedder’s aim was far more important than what I applied it to, it again fit into that moody lovelorn mess that was going on in my heart and head. I have read that this song was about becoming a political activist. I thought it was about leaving your family behind, or a breakup or something. I had the uncanny ability to make every song about me. Perhaps I’m a narcissist.

* Piranha, Tripping Daisy: Another song I’ve listened to nothing short of 1 million times, but I don’t think I ever saw the video. I have a fuzzy memory of feeling like this song was MEANT for me — In kind of a creepy-crawly way, Tim DeLaughter was telling me to lighten up: “Ready or not, like it or not, here they come again/It’s a shame but you are just laughing/People want to keep you in the dark/You’re always a mess, but you’re always a step ahead of the crowd… You can be what you want, it’s a matter of time, prepared to be amazed. You’re flashing, they’re frowning, you flash the clover leaf cheer/It’s a game/You’re winning/There’s always so many piranhas.” I have so many Tripping Daisy stories, first being the time me and some friends were asked onstage because we were blowing bubbles… that was fun. I think.

* Sabotage, Beastie Boys: Because lots of Tahlequah bands tried to cover this and only a few of them got it right – and because no is complete without them, and because RIP Adam Yauch.

* In the Meantime, Spacehog: This song, truly, really reminds me of being … well, messed up. Stoned. Ripped. Comfortably numb. It was the 90s and I was in college. If I ever decide to run for office, I guess this blog proves I’ll have to take the honest approach. I was a weirdo with weirdo friends. We had a lot of fun. And I still like this song, and can close my eyes and kind of trip along.

I could go on and on. But you get the idea. And if you’re of a certain age, some of these songs meant a great deal to you too. I say, let them out every now and again. Don’t try to learn all the new shit if the old shit is still just so good.

And I’m not saying the 1990s were all good — we had lots of cheezy pop, and Marilyn Manson was cool at first before it became a watered-down version of itself. Then Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit happened. Again, a bit cool, but kind of indicators that music was changing again. And in my view, for the worst.

But I’ll always have 1995. I’ll always have my memories, I hope. If not, I’ve got friends who remember things. Though not as much as we did pre-1995. 🙂

Oh, and while we’re at it:

1 Comment

Filed under Brain Disorders, General Nonsense, Music, Tahlequah, Uncategorized

Jane’s Addiction: Welcome back, old friend! (Warning, it’s a record review!)

I could be called the World’s Biggest Perry Farrell apologist — but even I couldn’t make up excuses for his last project, Satellite Party — just not my kind of party. Members of the Beastie Boys probably kept their respective penises out of the mashed potatoes whilst hearing it. (It’s Beastie Boys humor. If you don’t get it, Google it.)

But my love for the Big Three Jane’s Addiction albums — the first self-titled live album (which I consider a full album, since it contains so many songs you can’t find elsewhere), “Nothing’s Shocking” and “Ritual de lo Habitual” — is never-ending and deep. It’s a love that began on my BFF’s bedroom floor in 1988. I heard the opening strains of “Up the Beach,” fell in love hard and instantaneously, and was buying the live album a few weeks later, waiting on tenterhooks for “Ritual” and buying it the day it came out, with the banned and now-available cover art… the insert in the cassette with the lyrics and heroin-fueld diatribes of band members… Damn I loved being a weird kid. I still love being a weird kid.

Then JA broke up, and no one was surprised, because Dave Navarro had lost his mind and went to hang out with the only band with more heroin baggage than Jane’s, the Chili Peppers. Plus, Perry seemed to be going kind of off the deep end, though I guess he really wasn’t.  (Side note, Navarro’s joining of RHCP, sadly, was when I really  started hating RHCP — and that’ll never change. They’re just dead to me, though their first four albums aren’t.) Eric and Stephen just kind of shucked along, doing albums with Infectious Grooves, Polar Bear, Banyan… and Perry did the Porno for Pyros thing… it reminded me of when I was a kid and Duran Duran broke up. I grieved, but bought the new stuff happily.

Nothing's Shocking is sublime. It is perfect. It is beyond measure. It'll never happen again. "The Great Escape Artist" is good, however, even if it does make you go back and listen to the old stuff afterward.

But back to my welcoming back of JA. The new album, “The Great Escape Artist,” is GOOD. I’ve read reviews that panned it — but I don’t think they get it. This is undiluted JA –whispery weird and whiny Perry lyrics, meaty guitar hooks, spooky/sexy/indulgent percussion — Stephen Perkins is the finest drummer of my generation, bar none — and, while more produced than past efforts, a revisit to the coolness that I first hungrily supped in eighth grade.

But imma let you freaks off with a warning: It’s not “Nothing’s Shocking.” That quality of album just won’t EVER happen again. This’n

Great Escape Artist, Jane's Addiction, from janesaddiction.org

Great Escape Artist, Jane's Addiction, from janesaddiction.org

is a grown-up but still cool JA. It’s more reminiscent of that sound, but it’s not 1988 anymore. They’ve made quality albums since then, each a bit more different. I love the Porno for Pyros albums almost as much as I do the JA albums, but they’re not Nothing’s Shocking. I/we/they can never recapture that magic. They make a different kind of magic, and I like this new effort enough to give it several turns of the disc and not just put it on my iPhone and listen to tracks. I’ll listen to the whole thing. “Strays” didn’t give me that — so I’m glad to have that back. I’m a fan of album rock, and JA and the Pixies were the kings of whole-album rock until grunge came along…

(Side note 2: I love that I believe my era is the best and can’t be topped. I have officially reached a music nirvana, no pun intended. Mine’s better than yours, kiddo.)

I have grown up with the band — maybe that’s why I’m attracted to this more mature effort. I didn’t love “Strays,” though it had its moments, but GEA feels like a Jane’s Addiction album.

So far, the initial track “Underground” has really struck me as brilliant. No, Perry, you’ll never leave the underground, like Liz Phair, Dave Grohl, Courtney Love and so many other “undergrounders” have. Yet you’ve survived, like others who’ve refused to change haven’t — Layne Staley and Shannon Hoon come to mind, just on quick reflection.

Navarro is back to that piercing guitar solo, that searing sound that is solely JA. It’s not present in every song, but when you hear it, it’s brilliant and refreshes my soul.

The only thing missing is the fabulous Eric Avery. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I miss him. And Perry still talks a whole lot about that wife that he is so mad for — he’s such a romantic, albeit a weird one (the bizarro “Gift” was co-written and dedicated to one of his girls, Casey Niccoli, and while I watched it because it was JA, I felt kinda dirty afterward and probably showered.)

I bought the deluxe version of GEA, and it came with live versions of some of the greats. I got chills when “Three Days” started and heard a crowd cheering for them.

I so wanted to see JA at their album release party in NYC in mid-October. But I am still too chicken to go to NYC by myself and know no one who’d come with me. I am going to see them before I die, as God is my witness.

Leave a comment

Filed under Brain Disorders, General Nonsense, Music

East Coast Girls are hip (and other tales of moving to a foreign state)

With apologies to the Beach Boys, I prefer David Lee Roth‘s version of ” California Girls.” Holy crap, what a great video. If you don’t remember it, it’s here. David Lee Roth and in some instances, (I’m talkin’ to you, “Hot For Teacher“) Van Halen, made perhaps the best videos of the Great Video Era, the era that made me who I am today. Ah, MTV. You are now so full of suck.

But I am belaboring the point of this blog. It does, however, make nice little entry points into what I really want to talk about: ME!

In fewer than three weeks, I’ll be living and working in Connecticut. I know I’ll be working in Bristol for ESPN. I’m not sure, however, where I’ll be living. That’ll take care of itself. And since I have absolutely no idea if I want to live in the city or country, I guess I’ll know it when I see it. Fortunately, Disney/ESPN has an app for that — a real life app/counselor who will show me around the great Nutmeg state until I find someplace where me, the dog and everyone else can live in peace and harmony and sports.

I haven’t blogged, yes, I know, but my life has been in relative chaos, plus my brain hurts. I think I’m vapor-locked. I have been getting just exhausted at the idea of doing anything — but then I get so much accomplished, I’m shocked. Today I’m waiting for people to call to tell me how to go about selling my house. I had already sorta gone through this with my own Realtor, but you know, Disney has their own way of doing things — and that’s totally cool since they’re moving me gratis.

I’m going to let them ship my car, then rent a car and make the trek up to C-State with my bro Nick. He’s already requested to see a large ball of twine. Challenge accepted.

I haven’t hardly had a chance to let the whole “I’m leaving Oklahoma, land that I love” angle sink in yet, and that’s probably a good thing. I will NOT be listening to any Shelley West/David Frizzell classics, at least until I’m so settled I can’t change my mind. “You’re the Reason God Made Oklahoma” was the reason I moved back to the Sooner State after living in Dallas. But Dallas was so much closer — and the job wasn’t as awesome as the one I’m about to undertake. Holy crap, I’m workin’ for ESPN.

I’m kind of packing, mostly just getting rid of stuff. Disney’s moving team does the actual packing. I just have to pack the stuff I don’t want them to see! Seriously, I don’t want them reading my crappy poetry from the 90s and thinking I’m a psycho. I’m sure they won’t but I’m a paranoid girl who wrote a lot of bad poetry.

Life is sort of on one of those weird collision courses right now. Way too many coincidences. It’s like when I lived in Tahlequah and I knew I was exactly in the right place at the right time. I missed Tahlequah and my friends before our time was even up. Right now, I just can’t help but think this is, great job aside, where I belong.

Not to go all transcendental weirdo here, but I had a dream a few years ago that I moved to Portland, Maine, and it started this whole East Coast love again. Don’t know why I’ve always had it. Since I was 11, when I went there on a summer trip, seeing Boston, Nantucket, Cape Cod… I felt like it was sort of my next home. And lo and behold, it is.

Now, instead of wondering about the news value of 2012’s supposed End O’ the World, I’m hoping it’s all bollocks and I will live in New England in a great apartment FOREVER. Make bi-annual trips to the Cape, actually become acquainted with NYC, go to Red Sox games (preferably during Interleague, when the Rockies are in town) and a million other things.

(Yes, I wondered at the news value of the End of Days. I can’t help it. 100 percent journalist.)

I’m still waiting for ESPN to call and tell me the deal’s off.  They haven’t yet. In fact, they keep calling with more details, so I guess it’s really going to happen. Geez, am I ready for this? And I know I’ll be missing all my Oklahoma people before long. I know they’re happy for me though, and with the magic of the Garish  Chicken, I intend to keep you all hanging on my every word (haha, yeah right.)

To avoid a possible meltdown here, I’m going to do what I do best and deflect with music. Let’s go back to the land of the music video, that bygone era when music and movies came together for 3 to 5 minutes of brilliance.

Case in point:  Yankee Rose. 

 

 

 

 

 

3 Comments

Filed under Brain Disorders, Connecticut, ESPN, Fun!, Moving, Music, Tahlequah, Travel, Tulsa, TV

Comparisons: 1995 Sarah vs. 2011 Sarah (Introspection 101)

I’m a few months from my 37th birthday. That doesn’t look as bad on the computer screen as it feels in my head.

I realize that 37 isn’t technically old. It ain’t 22, which I’m pretty sure was my favorite year on earth. I say pretty sure because I don’t remember much of it. Ah, college. Ah, Tahlequah. The entire city has an above-the-legal-limit blood alcohol level, I’m convinced.

I’ve been a Tulsan since 2002, after spending 10 years in Tahlequah. This year, especially, has been pivotal, and I have a feeling the Wheel of Fortune hasn’t stopped turning, either for bad or for evil. (I’m not talking about the show, though in my advanced years, I like that a lot now too.)

Events in my life seem to be spiraling quickly. Once you set the ol’ wheel in motion in my life, you have to hold on. I’m slow to motivate, but once I’ve got my mind made up, it’s on. I blame my fiery Aries mama for this.

Some new developments, for those who care: Still waiting to hear from ESPN. Lost my job at the Food Bank. Putting my house on the market. Hopefully doing some freelance work. Minimizing, my stuff and my rotund self.

To kick off this effort (that sound SO MUCH like a press release) I’ve decided to pit 2011 Sarah against 1995 Sarah. It’s a startling contrast, and I’m proud to say that 2011 Sarah wins… not in the Charlie Sheen sense, but still.

1995 Sarah’s job: Manager, Del Rancho restaurant.
2011 Sarah’s job: Assistant editor, Tulsa World.
Advantage: 2011.

1995 Sarah’s bedtime:  5 a.m., or whenever we heard the birds and the streetsweeper, we knew it was time to retire.
2011 Sarah’s bedtime: A much more reasonable 2 a.m. or 3 a.m., but only because I now only have one job and it’s a later start. And I’m a natural night owl.
Advantage: 2011, though 1995 was way more fun.

Oh, Sarah. Where did you get these ridiculous outfits? The hair alone is bad enough. But I thought I was bad-ass. Hilarious. It was 1995. That's my excuse.

1995 Sarah’s clothes: Hippie not-so-chic, cut-off corduroys, flower-print Doc Martens, band T-shirts, no makeup, no hairdryer, no straightener, no jewelry. Sack-like dresses
2011 Sarah’s clothes: Black pants in various cuts, black dresses, solid-print tops with black cardigans, black and more black, a spot of jewelry, hair blown dry every day and straightened, or at least brushed, makeup every day.
Advantage: 2011, by a longshot.

1995 Sarah’s diet: Pasta-Roni, Taco Bell, sandwiches. Chinese food from Grand China.
2011 Sarah’s diet: Whatever I can find, Taco Bueno, homemade Chinese food, lots of soup.
Advantage: Tie. I still eat horrible food on occasion. I really wish my parents would’ve let me have more fast food growing up so I didn’t feel the compulsion to make up for lost time.

1995 Sarah’s fitness: 12-ounce curls, bong-lifting and other recreational “hobbies,”  couch-jumping.
2011 Sarah’s fitness: Lots of walking, active gym membership (just got a new one at the Y, going today for the first time!)… but more than that, an actual knowledge of the need for fitness instead of a general lack of caring.
Advantage: 2011.

1995 Sarah’s relationships: Blah.
2011 Sarah’s relationships: Blah, but don’t really give a shit.
Advantage: Blah.

1995 Sarah’s inner peace: Fabricated by copious amounts of weed and alcohol
2011 Sarah’s inner peace: Somewhat tattered, but at least it can pass a drug test. Lack of paranoia is refreshing.
Advantage: 2011.

1995 Sarah’s ambition: Throwing the Best Party Ever, seeing more shows than you.
2011 Sarah’s ambition: Sky-high. Maybe I can still become a singer (kidding). Entering poetry and short-story contests.  Trying for new job on the East Coast. The Novel isn’t just a dream anymore, it’s rising to the surface.
Advantage: Depends on the outcome. Some days, I really miss the carefree days of college, when I was just accruing debt instead of dreaming about paying it off. I miss going to two shows a week, drinking shots every night, etc. But now, I wake up with more hope instead of hangovers. If I accomplish everything I hope to, then definitely Advantage 2011.

1995 Sarah’s lodging: Cheap rent house. At one time, we paid $53/month to rent this cheap little house because so many people lived in it.
2011 Sarah’s lodging: My own house, which I’m about to put on the market. Homeownership is great, some of the time.
Advantage: I wouldn’t be saying this last year, but advantage 1995. I miss renting. I miss the freedom to just up and leave. I hope my house sells.

1995 Sarah’s friends: I saw them every day. I had a lot. I loved them like family.
2011 Sarah’s friends: I don’t see them enough. I have many left. I love them like family.
Advantage: Tie. Damn we had fun. I made the best friends I could’ve ever made in college, and fortunately, most of them are still just a phone call away. The slight tip of the scale would go to 1995, but 2011 is strong in the knowledge that they’re not going anywhere. Love you guys.

 1995 Sarah’s cash flow: I lived paycheck to paycheck, but didn’t hardly have any bills. Always had money for clothes and … well, everything.
2011 Sarah’s cash flow: I live paycheck to paycheck, but I’m doing what I love. Never have money.
Advantage: 2011, though it’s a close call. In 1995, I didn’t even have credit cards. I spent like there was no tomorrow and lived for financial aid’s change checks. At least in 2011 I have some accountability, and am paying off the debt I accrued in the early 2000s.

1995 Sarah’s music: Jane’s Addiction, Liz Phair, PJ Harvey, Nirvana, The Doors, Tripping Daisy, Ween, Hole, Pearl Jam, Flaming Lips, anything “stoner rock” or “trippy rock.”
2011 Sarah’s music: Boundless. Ween (for the win!), Bob Dylan, Professor Longhair, The Modern Lovers, Sex Pistols, Nat King Cole, The Libertines, U2, Jane’s Addiction, Balfa Brothers, Roxy Music, Duran Duran, Morrissey/Smiths, Black Sabbath, Pavement, Norah Jones… the list goes on.
Advantage: 2011. Technology has made my music library swell to unbelievable heights. I don’t get to go to as many shows as before, but I can immerse myself in music so much easier than before. It’s still my No. 1 hobby, which hasn’t changed since 1978, but now it’s all at my fingertips… HUGE advantage 2011.

There are more comparisons, but these are the ones I’ve undertaken. I challenge you to pit yourself against another time and see what era comes out the winner. It’s enlightening to see how far you’ve come, and it makes you realize that you’re got it pretty good.

Advantage: Sarah.

1 Comment

Filed under Childhood, Family, Food, Fun!, General Nonsense, Love, Music, Newspapers, Tahlequah, Travel, Tulsa

People Who Died (and those who didn’t.)

First, to explain the headline: When I was about 14, I heard Jim Carroll‘s “People Who Died” on the underground college radio station, which I picked up only on clear nights and when I held the antenna just so. I held that bad boy through countless broadcasts, finger at the ready to hit record anytime sometime cool or seemingly relevant came on the radio.

Countless volumes of badly-dubbed tapes were the result. And I still have them, catalogued and filed away in a bag. I still thank RSU radio for making me at least a teensy bit cooler.

Jim Carroll, whose life is chronicled in the book/movie “The Basketball Diaries” wrote that song, and many others (“Catholic Boy” is another gem.) But “People Who Died” is the one always in my head.

It’s good to have a list of “People Who Died.” The most recent big-name addition to the “People Who Died” list of the world is Osama Bin Laden. Hey, if you didn’t know that, you might’ve actually been in a cave, and not hanging out in palatial Abbottabad. So yeah, I’m not breaking any news on that.

I’ve been planning on blogging this since I came to the stark realization last week that — get this — GORDON LIGHTFOOT IS ALIVE. I could’ve sworn that man was dead. I don’t know why — perhaps VH1 didn’t do a “Behind The Music” on Lightfoot. Perhaps I never had reason to look him up. Perhaps I thought he died in the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. (Sorry, too easy, low-hanging fruit and all that.) I tweeted the lyrics to a GL song, jokingly saying he “went too fast.” A friend on Twitter exclaimed, “He’s dead? I hadn’t heard!” He was really upset. I had to retract that statement, or at least tweet something else quickly that I was just full of shit.

But it made me realize: There are a lot of people I thought were dead who just aren’t.

Some examples:

I want this as a handheld fan I can take to church or ballgames. ABE! ABE! ABE! ABE! ABE!

Abe Vigoda. He’s one of those people that you assume already has a memorial scholarship named for him. He was born in 1921.  Way to go, Abe! I hope I’m not jinxing you!

Shirley Temple. In my mind, she’s 137 years old (Joe Louis’ age, of course, when Rocky Marciano beat him) and has been dead for quite some time. THAT’S NOT TRUE! She was born in 1928 and is still kickin’.

Dick Van Patten. Oddly enough, he was also born in 1928. Turns out, 80 wasn’t enough. Neither is 83. Still drawing breath.

Apprently the Denver Post thought Charlotte Rae was dead too. This was in their photo archive.

Mrs. Garrett, AKA Charlotte Rhea. She was born in 1926, and apparently has all the “Facts of Life” necessary to keep herself alive for a long time. She’s even been a reference in “Family Guy” for her voluptuous bosom.

Jerry Lee Lewis. Maybe marrying children keeps you young? I shan’t try. I don’t know if I believe in marriage.

Carol Alt was everywhere in 1982. Is she off hanging with Debra Winger or something?

Carol Alt. I know, random, but it seems like she was everywhere, then she disappeared. I’m used to supermodels creeping back into the spotlight every now and again, such as Isabella Rossellini or Lauren Hutton. But what happened to Carol? Come back out, Carol. The world needs more pretty people.

Some people who are dead who may surprise you: Eddie Rabbit, Falco and Michael Jackson (haha, gotcha.)

So I’m done obsessing over death, at least people who aren’t really dead. Now to turn my attention back to people who are for real dead: OBL and ODB.

1 Comment

Filed under Brain Disorders, Fun!, General Nonsense, Music, Uncategorized, Women