My cousin’s daughter wrote a post about the calamities of having a large family. She accidentally coined a phrase that fired up my imagination: Red Bull & Tears.
I felt like it deserved a song. Even though I changed the meaning of her words, I think I captured the essence of running on fumes.
A closed door holds our focus much more than an open one ever could. Looking backward brings comfort because at least it is knowable.
Rule 47
“Anyone who posts words, policy, or statements by our current president for any purpose other than mockery or excoriation can no longer be taken seriously regarding any societal, political, or economic consideration.”
I can cite countless examples. The government shutdown can be ended without any Democrats voting in favor of it. By changing the filibuster rules, Trump and his Republican devotees can pass the budget bill immediately if they choose to do so. Given the increasing risk that Congress shall soon become an anachronism without teeth, it’s ridiculous to worry about tomorrow’s fire when our shoes are melting today.
People reposting Trump’s ill-informed and uneducated rants in support of something that’s factually untrue isn’t surprising. If racism, misogyny, fraud, and incitement toward insurrection aren’t deal breakers, it’s a deep well from which to draw an infinite spiral of malevolent ridiculousness.
If Trump wishes to be king, then let’s proceed with the coronation so that we can move on to a broken democracy. At least under that scenario, we will not be victim to an ongoing onslaught of “WTF”
moments, nor continue to hope for an end to the madness.
We can acclimate ourselves to the loss of the country we grew up in because we’ll have no other choice.
This isn’t politics. It’s madness and mayhem, driven by someone completely unfit to run a household, country, or company.
X
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I wrote a powerful rebuttal to something recently. I haven’t posted it. In doing so, I came up with a quote that covers much of problem inherent in what I wrote about. The quote in the picture is a snippet of the words I conjured.
Our society will not function unless the prevailing notion that ‘live and let live’ governs us. Politics is a choice, much like religion, opinion, or what color underwear you choose.
X
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Nighttide thoughts…
.
This Place
I threw down the manual and kicked over my chair
one more set of numbers might murder my will to live
ain’t got another damned day to give
this place
this place
never had any grace
every second measured, each move under evaluation
human life reduced to numbers to the left of zero
ain’t got another damned hour to give
this place
this place
never had any grace
each morning takes a little corner of my mind
listening to contradictory and meaningless instruction
ain’t got another damned minute to give
this place
this place
never had any grace
if I don’t break free and surrender from this place
even the idea of me might dry up and blow away
might not have another damned second to live
this place
this place
never had any grace
(screams)
I’m out of here!
It is strange for me to write about the reactionary shock some believers experience in the face of this emergent and vitriolic version of belief. I wrote this song from the perspective of someone I trust to have a grasp of what religion is supposed to do to their lives. The song wails into the octaves instead of screaming, followed by a descent into acceptance, as they are surrounded by people who’ve twisted the message into something unrecognizable.
…
“Angry Snarl”
though they can’t spell the word sanctimonious
you smell it from a mile away
uninformed but seemingly never silent
they poison our world with certainty
you can’t reason with people like this
their ears are closed with heavenly glue
they have just one book to ban all the others
and it never means the same thing twice
they never hesitate to offer a judgmental opinion
as if we haven’t watched them go astray
they speak of god with angry lips
where mercy lies in a forgotten ditch
(chorus)
you can’t reason with people like this
yet you persist in measured reason
knowing it’s all in vain
they have the only answer to give
and that’s their only refrain
they speak of god with angry lips
wondering why we don’t feel safe
an afterlife of condemnation
is no way to live
Love, X
.
This song is about Prince. It’s also about the importance of having people in your life who love or respect you enough to stand up and tell you to knock it off.
Love, X
.
Dearly Beloved
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life
Even the prince of music faltered
It started with pain from performance
And ended as it must, even for a music god
He had countless friends and managers
All were sideliners to his downfall
Why didn’t they stop him people might ask
Maybe they did in a private space
But you have to ask yourself
How often has a friend stopped you
Would you listen if they did?
We fool ourselves into superiority
That won’t happen to us
We are made from exotic dust
This is what it sounds like when doves don’t cry
But if he couldn’t do it
You better find your purple banana
He was a man of 1 million melodies
but never wrote his swan song
You or someone around you right now
Fails to appreciate the danger
He had it wrong about the Grim Reaper
The reaper fails to respect who you are
Why don’t we scream at each other
This is what it sounds like when doves don’t cry
It is silence when an objection is needed
If you know what I’m singing about up here,
come on and raise your hand
Don’t let down your guard
even if you sing like a dirty angel
This is what it sounds like when doves don’t cry
…
I don’t expect people to take the time to listen or absorb the message. Whether other people think so or not, some of the lyrics are insightful. The female voice version seemed to have an unpleasant tone, even though it resonated with me, and I worked diligently until I achieved that sound.
I don’t create things with the exclusive motive of it being liked. If I had that fear, I would do what most people would and fail to summon magical words from the air.
I have three versions of this song.
Here are the lyrics:
the January sun shone on your hair
your shirt clung to you like a glove
I held my breath for a fleeting moment
as I watched you walk toward me
I knew your mind was elsewhere
I waited for our eyes to meet
A smile, a glance, flickering enthusiasm
The reciprocal charm of being waited for
I couldn’t do what came to mind
I couldn’t say the things in my heart
I swallowed down the hungry tingle
and instead urgently looked away
When you feel like you’ve been hungry
The difficulty lies in thinking straight
You don’t buy a house just for the kitchen
But try living there without one
The gradual wither of my affection
Leaves me a little shredded and uncertain
I can’t find the words to explain the color blue
When you don’t see the things that I see as true
Beauty truly lies in the eye of the beholder
its value diminishes when someone grows colder
Confidence and esteem have their place
Yet it’s a tango, a duet, and a mutual dance
One person’s truth is another’s lie
It’s easy to forget that it takes two
Both being nurtured, seen, and felt
One person’s truth is another’s lie
And I can’t find the words to tell you why
I crave a life filled with overflowing
Freely shared and effortlessly showing
Dancing alone just isn’t the same
It moves your feet yet traps the pain
if art is food for the soul
of what use are eyes if not to see
of what use are arms
if not to hold and behold
One person’s truth is another’s lie
No one should be left wondering if or why
….
The original version…
The second version, more of a rock feel…
An alternate rock version…
Love, X
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Since I went to sleep too early last night, I was up at 12:30. I took advantage to attempt to see the less spectacular Ursid meteor shower. The vantage point in the open parking lot about a half a mile away had too much radiant light interfering. It confuses me when I’m up at that hour because the bars and strip joints still thrive with people making dubious choices.
But back at the apartment, I used my Star Walk app to orient myself facing Ursa Minor. Normal people refer to it as the Little Dipper. Our current North Star, Polaris, is the end of the handle of the dipper. It could not have been more ideal due to the towering pine trees behind my apartment blocking the moonlight – and most of the city’s lights. The Ursid meteors are more sporadic. I always find myself half frozen with a crick in my neck from soft-focusing my eyes toward the sky.
Flight Delta DAL 2036 flying from Salt Lake to Fort Lauderdale flew over at 38,000 ft. It was pretty dazzling. 🙂
I accidentally learn something each time I take the time or make the time to watch the sky. It’s rare for me to watch the stars and not think of my grandpa pointing toward the constellations. He wasn’t well educated. But like most people of his generation, knowing things like that was second nature. Before good maps, GPS, and all the things we take for granted. I wonder what he would think or say if he were standing next to me at 2:00 a.m. in the morning, watching me hold one of the most advanced communication and information devices ever created.
The irony of me using such a device to watch and learn about remnants of our universe that are 4.5 billion years old isn’t lost on me.
One thing I do know. Grandpa would have laughed if I told him I was cold and it was about damn time for another cup of coffee. I got my jadeite green coffee cup off the shelf when I went inside. As I drank from it, I thought about the fifty years I’d enjoyed between now and the first time I learned the name of a constellation.
“Age does not bring wisdom. It brings experience that teaches you that everything passes whether you do anything about it or not.”
X
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P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 