“Hmm…” I fumble with a CD case with more scratches than clear plastic and no liner to tell what’s inside. The yellow CD is as worn… no clues to mark it’s past.
“I guess we’ll have to try it out.” I talk to myself as I work through assorted stuff. Somehow keeping it means something. Bread crumbs to a past.
“Hey listen, don’t let ’em get your mind” screaming guitars blast between they pause “Fill your brain with orders… that’s not right! They’re playing a game that draws you closer.” more guitars “Until you’re living in a world ruled by fear”
The voice is raw. But I know this. I pulls at the corners in my mind. I know every word, every guitar riff. Drums echo in my mind before they crash. My head instinctively moves forward and back.
“Wow, don’t hurt yourself old man!” A young voice laughs.
I look to my left. Skinny young kid looks back. Loner hair than mine with less forehead showing. His easy smile is slightly unnerving yet disarming at the same time. I know him. I’ve seem that face before. I struggle to name him.
“Hey, this is mine.” I wave an empty unlabeled CD case. I’m half joking and half defiant.
“I listened to this well before you were aaarrouund.” My voice stops slowly. I remember things.
“What ever you say. You know it’s only been out for a month. The video, six weeks.” His face shows the same puzzlement of who I am that I have for him. “I didn’t know people your age listened to this kind of music.”
That did it. I catch up with the music. and lunge at him “Scccccrrreeeaaming screaming for vengeance! The world is defiled in disgrace.”
Time stops. Lunging was a bad idea. Hitting notes that high…didn’t work either. Still I hold my ground.
His eyes go wide. His half step back is a win for me. Fooling oneself is difficult sometimes. I know him. I was him.
“You seen the video! He ticks and forth then jumps on the drum beat. Wow, I’ve been trying that. I have practice late I’m supposed to surprise Riley and Jimmie with that.” He pauses. “Now that I see you do that…. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. You looked like s fish jumping out of water, Dude.”
“You’re younger. Jump, plant and then scream. Gilbert will freak out. He always thinks unexpected shit is cool.” I’m locked into a time 30 years ago. “Nadine, wow, mood watch out for her! She is going to do somethings to you….”
I stop. Dear God, he had no idea. Hell, did I even know Riley’s real name before his mom Nadine… And the spandex tiger pants. That’s when I find out her name. She was fitting me for those pants alright. I can still see her… The difference between a 16 year old and a 36 year old was like finding a new planet to explore.
“Dude, who the hell is Gilbert? I don’t know how you think that this ‘jump, plant and scream’ will help me. This is too weird.” Je looks back at me. His mind sees who I must be. That didn’t help either.
“Remember it doesn’t last long. Enjoy the moments as they happen. Yoy won’t believe the things ahead of you.” I reach out toward him. “But make sure you sing ‘You got another thing coming’ first. Trust me. You’ll thank me in another 30 years.”
I reach his hand it fades.
“Is Nadine his mom?” the young voice hangs but doesn’t hear any response from me.
I had no idea how lucky I was at the time.
Italized words are lyrics from ‘Screaming for Venegeance’ by Judas Priest
If you dare the link to the live video
“Angel came down from Heaven yesterday. She stayed with my long enough to rescue me.” I recanted my vision.
My friend looked in awe, his face somehow different. I couldn’t find shock,or disbelief. He sat quiet. His contoured black hair and neat goalie. His high set cheekbones, nor his black eyes budged. He just smiled.
“So she came down from the sky… it was a ball of light. That unfolded. Her long pure white hair…a prefect halo. She landed in a kneeling position. As she rose, huge white wings extended about her. She must have been seven feet tall. Eyes black as coal. Face expressionless. Her mouth didn’t move but she spoke in song. The only thing was her shadow had no hair and the wings were pointed or broken.” I try to not be a mad man,which makes it worse.
My friend smile grows. I never noticed his ears being so pointy. Her holds his coffee cup like a vise as I speak. It steams. His mouth parts briefly “You looked at her eyes and shadow?!”
I’m stunned. Why did I? The perfect creature and I’m looking at things about her. She said my Earthly concerns would be a thing of the past tonite. I deflect.
“It was odd. Yes, but I was in awe. Tonite… I take her hand. It will change my life. My troubles gone.” I stay on point.
“All your Earthy concerns will be gone.” He speaks in a different voice.
“That’s what she said! Exactly!” My ears catch up with my mind. I didn’t say that to him. How does he know? I nervously keep my smile. But I’m scared all of a sudden.
First line and song used as prompt is “Angel” written by Jiminy Hendrix. The link is to another version by Rod Stewart https://youtu.be/4Ljipk4QgWE
There’s a place into which we seek shelter from the storm of life. Most of us have more than one. There are reasons for that. Some storms are live at a certain address. But that’s a different story.
Today, we look into the greening world of Mark’s swampland estate. In deeper understanding of this, I have a stray cat next to me helping provide the gem of a cold wet morning dew. (I wish I could share but this app has,enough issues at times) We have several local birds making the rounds at the feeder.
The bright green leaves of the oak hide a flock. All birds of a different feather. The smallest, the wren sings out near one of his four nests. The ladies get to pick out one, or move on. Chickadees, sparrows, and tufted titmice buzz bright red Cardinals and much larger Blue Jay’s. Cooper’s Hawks yell at each other in the distance. A loud truck on the road out front dispatches the flock. Like tiles in a video game, they shift and reassemble with the colors all out of place.
The plant world is shaking of that long winter hangover. The trees flex their new leaves. They have a jingle sound. Maybe like a dancer with bells on their costume. Pink and red columbine bloom are graceful stalks swaying along with the breeze’s rhythm. Peace pushes away the rest of the world.
Plunk! The silent frog forgets I’m out here. He starts to sing. No one answers. But a stray cat looks his way.
The musical link is here for the title
Big cobalt eyes.
Huge pointy ears
Long whiplike tail.
So cute chewing on shoes!
Adorable eating the couch.
How many hours could we play?
Today Jack Paper came.
He took you away.
Honali Humane society
Says no more Dragons.
So long frolicking in mist
Watching you lead away.
My little green scales sparkle.
My little buddy gone.
If any of this sounds familar…
The world is full of Kings and Queens.
Who blind your eyes and steal your dreams.
-Ronnie James Dio, “Heaven and Hell”
“You can always self publish.” She says with a howl.
My cloudy gaze casts tepid showers on her parade.
“I mean I liked it. It’s that start. It’s long way to set a scene. Grey walls and white trim, OK. I see it in my head but…you take a thousand words to produce a dead body.” She tries to shield herself from the cold winds of my despair.
“It’s impossible to know what without the where and then the why!” Lightning strikes her from my tongue.
“Maybe the fourth publisher will pick it up.” Her shelter builds against a growing anger.
I’m raging inside. My mind created the prefect murder. The crashing of bodies in every room. Each one differently.
She looks back to me. Her mouth forms words that aren’t her own.
You are like a hurricane,
There’s calm in your eyes.
Niel Young, “Hurricane”
“I want to reach up and touch the sky.”
Supernaut, Black Sabbath
I like finding a place where nature is still stronger than man. Channeling the awe and feeling of a world beyond our manipulation. To be at peace with one’s self, you must find yourself. It’s not hidden among others. It’s not the title of the job you work. It’s not your collection of inanimate objects. It what you are. Peace is surrendering to what you are not.
I like not sticking to a script. Or following directions, notice the lack of list here of numbered items. Chaos is my friend. Order is an iron cage.
I like flowers.
I have been largely influenced by songs and lyrics. The imagery that can be created by word play, or sounds that are mixed in. The mood is a personal feel. The ability to project this into another person is magic. Even the nonsense strewn into lyrics collectively can produce vivid views. One of the best at the lyric game, Bob Dylan.
From Subterranean Homesick Blues
“Get sick, get well
Hang around an ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell
If anything’s gonna sell
Try hard, get barred
Get back, write Braille
Get jailed, jump bail Join the army, if you fail
Look out kid
You’re gonna get hit”
The whole thing is just over two minutes. It sounds like rap about 20 years too early without the heavy beats.
I have an affinity for people who are genuine. Not necessarily happy sing about rainbows all the time. Real people who have craved out their pave in space and time, put their claim on it, and fly their flag over it comes hell or high water! (I like the hell or high water phrase, it’s hard to fit in a story).
Photography is another guilty pleasure. It traps those places forever. It holds time still for later use. What could be better? OK there are times that would be bad. But this is likes.
Good little Tom cats!
“The Last In Line”
We’re a ship without a storm
the cold without the warm
light inside the darkness that it needs yeah
We’re a laugh without a tear
the hope without the fear
we are coming home.
I’m starting the day with the question of does an old candle cast a new or old shadow?
“Read the news today”
Long forgotten words and practice.
The places change but not the story.
The storyline AP or UPI
The place I am has little news.
There’s a crime here.
There’s a crime there.
But what has changed?
The world has shrunk around us.
My local has become less.
The flavor of my daily life vanilla.
Yes bad things happen.
But good things don’t make news.
Today I look at my paper.
It’s a park newspaper.
My guide to the good of nature.
The number of crimes is like.
“The number of holes to fill Albert Hall”
Quotes from “A Day in The Life”, the Beatles