In My Kingdom, Ch. 1

In My Kingdom

In my Kingdom, people shall stress the first consonant of all words  

and there shall be no word pronounced "Notchka."

In my Kingdom, there shall be at least one sprig of Rosemary sticking out of each pile of mashed potatoes

and said sprig shall not be reused, even if it is not sampled by the diner.

In my Kingdom, Wine Spectator shall rate each wine at least a 92

and the post man shall deliver all wine without requiring the signature of an adult on each delivery.

In my Kingdom there shall be no latin or jazz music

except Miles Davis

and there shall be numerous exceptions to this rule which require prior approval (by me of course).

But in no circumstance shall the instance of any Latin or jazz music cause any reminisces of unhappy memories.

Indeed, in my Kingdom, all unhappy memories are strictly forbidden.

In my Kingdom, all doctors shall be able to press a button and all electronic medical records are instantly dictated

and I shall have complete control of all buttons.

In my Kingdom, the television show "Live at Daryl's House" shall be recorded at my house

and I shall actually have a house.

In my Kingdom, there shall be no expression like "What am I going to do with you?" because I decree that everyone shall at all times know what to do with everyone else

and if there is ever any doubt, I will dictate what must be done.  

 In my kingdom, people shall have sex in the afternoon or in the morning and there shall be no sex after 10 pm

unless they want to.

The Music Lover, Ch. 17; I have no recollection of events unfolding in manner in which you describe, Ch. 7

Candy-O, The Reprise, Part 2.

The song Candy-O contains everything that powered the Cars.   The beautiful alluring woman, out of reach;  the infatuation, the unrequited love:

Candy-O, I need you
Sunday dress, ruby ring
Candy-O, I need you so
Could you help me in?

Purple hum, assorted cards
Razor lights you'll bring
And all to prove you're on the move
And vanishing

Candy-O, I need you so
Candy-O, I need you so

Edge of night, distract yourself
Obstacles don't work
Homogenize
Decentralize
It's just a quirk

Different ways to see you through
All the same in the end
Peculiar star, a-that's who you are
Do you have to win?

And yes, the woman always wins in Candy-O.   If you don't believe me you can ask Ric Ocasek.  He'd probably tell you that its entirely out of your control Pip.  But in this case, like the sleek cold powerful automobile, Estelle will never give a rats ass for you, Pip.   You are left tagging along with her to her "Nightspots:"

Could be you're crossing the fine line
A silly driver, kinda off the wall
You keep it cool when it's t-t-tight
Eyes wide open when you start to fall
You go d-dancing in the dim lit club
Some pressure cooker crawls up on his knees
Flashing sensation like a one on one
Stomping around in the jitterbug breeze
Oo, how you shake me up and down
When we hit the nightspots on the town
Oh
It's all behind you when you do catch on
You keep your lovers in a penny jar
A real romantic with a sultry stare
You keep on messin' with your blonde, long hair yeah
Oo, how you shake me up and down
When we hit the nightspots on the town

The album ends with one of my favorite rock lyrical paragraph from the appropriately named song:   "Got a lot on my head"  (and most of its you)...lol  The perfect song for teenage male angst:

Trip down the alleyway, take the back stairs
I know it's good but good isn't fair
That's what you said, flashbulb in your eye
How can I hold you when you're waving goodbye.

Musically, I didn't remember the fast paced driving rhythm merging something like Germanic techno Kraftwerk and the heavy metal riffs of something like "Rush". An odd combination.   Which like a fast automobile is cold, mechanical and empty.  And odd.  Especially the juxtaposition of all these unrequited love lyrics which one would associate with sentimental toned ballads.  But there is nothing sentimental here.   Cold arrogant and detached.  Exactly what  I was called by my debate coach in high school.  My football coach called me overly sensitive and voted me the most improved player. What a cluster fuck...lol

 

The Music Lover, Ch. 16; I have no recollection of events unfolding in manner in which you describe, Ch. 6

Candy-O, the Reprise (Part I)

Candy-O was the 1979 sophomore release from the Boston based so called "new wave" band "The Cars." Radio stations had been all over The Cars' self titled debut album.  However, with the exception of the first song off Candy-O, the so called "Let's Go,"  both critics and radio stations thought Candy-O was a lemon.

Disclaimer:  Until yesterday, I hadn't listened to this album in over 25 years.  And even back then, I didn't have any "albums."   I wonder if I still have the cassette?  Therein lies the explanation of the 25 year hiatus of Candy-O from my life.   I have been sans a cassette player for eons.

Disclaimer#2:  When I did listen to this in high school, I listened to the shit out of it.   I knew all the lyrics.   All the lyrics, that is, I could discern.  There was no Internet back then.  If you couldn't understand a lyric, you were S.O.L.   And there were plenty of funky lyrics.  But I still know them.

Disclaimer#3:  The fact that I was once so intimate with Candy-O has everything to do with the girth of the state of Wyoming.  See I attended Campbell County High School in Gillette, Wyoming.  When Gillette was competing against other high schools in Debate, Tennis, Football, Wrestling or anything, there were great distances involved in the commute.   For example, when the Gillette Camels sparred against the Cheyenne Central Indians (I wonder if that still their mascot?) the commute was 244 miles which is almost as equidistant as Gillette is from high schools in Cody or Powell, Wyoming.   The trip to Rock Springs was a stunning 345 miles.   The school district of Gillette, rich with mineral royalties was endowed with several so called "super buses" which were nothing more that the equivalent of luxury Greyhound coaches.  So it was not an unusual weekend that we would leave Gillette on a Friday afternoon after school was out, travel the 5 or 6 hours, spend the night in a hotel, eat breakfast (by the way the school paid for all of this) and then compete later in the day.   Can you imagine a public high school in 2013 Illinois doing this for its students?   But I digress.  This was a different time, a different place, and a different education budget.  The point is, during these long rides on the "super bus" we listened to the shit out of Candy-O in my so called "boom box." (I wonder if they still call them that?).

Disclaimer#4:  Back then, I didn't know shit about music.  I still don't.  But my musical vocabulary then consistented of the indigenous music ubiquitous in Wyoming at the time (Journey, Reo Speed Wagon, Styx, Loverboy, whatever) and the new tidbits my friend Rich Rogers brought to the table.  Rich moved to Wyoming from San Francisco, and brought with him the Dead Kennedy's, The Germs, The Clash, The Ramones, Agent Orange, Patty Smith (you get the idea).   But that was it.   It was either a very superficial taste of Punk or bubblegum rock.   I never knew what attracted me to Candy-O.   Maybe with the passage of time I am beginning to understand why Candy-O resonated with me.   But we will save that to part 2:-).

Inadequate Instructions for Just About Anything, Ch 6

How to write the Great Russian-American novel.

Step 1:  Acquire some dusha.  Of course, acquiring is more of an American idea.   You are born with a soul.  In any event, if you are not Russian, proceed to Step 2.  If you are Russian, you know all about the next few steps,  proceed directly to Step 5.  

Step 2:  Start to suffer.  Really, you can do it.  Its not that hard.  

Step 3:  Read Dostoevsky.   Especially the bit about: "the most basic, most rudimentary spiritual need of the Russian people is the need for suffering, ever-present and unquenchable, everywhere and in everything".  Proceed to Step 4.

Step 4:   Read Checkov.  Especially bits like:  “When asked, "Why do you always wear black?", I said, "I am mourning for my life.”  and “I reflected how many satisfied, happy people there really are! What a suffocating force it is! You look at life: the insolence and idleness of the strong, the ignorance and brutishness of the weak, incredible poverty all about us, overcrowding, degeneration, drunkenness, hypocrisy, lying... Yet all is calm and stillness in the houses and in the streets; of the fifty thousand living in a town, there is not one who would cry out, who would give vent to his indignation aloud. We see the people going to market for provisions, eating by day, sleeping by night, talking their silly nonsense, getting married, growing old, serenely escorting their dead to the cemetery; but we do not see and we do not hear those who suffer, and what is terrible in life goes on somewhere behind the scenes...Everything is so quiet and peaceful, and nothing protests but mute statistics: so many people gone out of their minds, so many gallons of vodka drunk, so many children dead from malnutrition... And this order of things s evidently necessary; evidently the happy man only feels at ease because the unhappy bear their burdens in silence, and without that silence happiness would be impossible.”   Proceed to step 5.

Step 5:   If you live in America, proceed to Step 6.  If you are still in Russia, you are disqualified from further participation for a variety of reasons.   Among these are a lack of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Step 6:   You are almost there!  Keep going!   Proceed to Step 7.

Step 7:   In any of your marriages, did you marry someone who was even more neurotic than you?  If not, congratulations, you win.  You are no longer on the treadmill.  Long live the treadmill.  Contact Sri Psuedopumpkin for your special prize.  If not, proceed to step 8.

Step 8:  Are you in a relationship now that you keep bringing up your former neurotic spouse in all aspects of you life to the extent that those around you have begin setting up a place at dinner for your neurotic ex-spouse to attend in spirit, if not in real life because you are unable to stop talking about them?   If not, congratulations, you win.   Contact Sri Psuedopumpkin for your special prize.  If so, please proceed to Step 1.

 

Things that Don't Go Together, Ch. 15

The Firewall and the Hijab.

The Hijab seemed like a bad idea at the time.  From the Quran, it is enforced modesty, which is always the last refuge of the jealous scoundrel:

"And say to the believing women that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that they should not display their beauty and ornaments except what (must ordinarily) appear thereof; that they should draw their khimār over their bosoms and not display their beauty except to their husband, their fathers, their husband's fathers, their sons, their husbands' sons, their brothers or their brothers' sons, or their sisters' sons, or their women, or the slaves whom their right hands possess, or male servants free of physical needs, or small children who have no sense of the shame of sex; and that they should not strike their feet in order to draw attention to their hidden ornaments."  Quran 24:31

Still, the Hijab does permit a certain amount of subterfuge and stealth, which never go out of style.   It is a metaphoric firewall concealing not only the beauty but the identify of the wearer.  One can imagine in a world filled with Google Earth, predator drones and spy satellites, that the Hijab doesn't seem like that bad of an idea.  Not that the fashion runways of Dubai and Riyadh (if there are such creatures) will be teeming with them anytime soon, but the star of anonymity has far from reached its zenith.

Think about it.  Wouldn't you like to get away from the world where everyone is judged by appearances?  Where every aspect of life is now publicly available on any number of social networking sites on the Internet?  To be just anonymous.  The mask of oppression becomes the vehicle for liberation.  And so much potential  for mischief:-).