It's 6 am which is not a usual time for me to be awake...I like to sleep in. But 4 straight days with the flu has provided me with ample slumber. So, I blog. Oh my lonely blog...tossed to the curb by the ever present Facebook, which will receive this feed! My title reference comes from a song by The Electric Light Orchestra, or ELO. My mother had more than a normal obsession with them, mainly their leader Jeff Lynne...maybe this is why I have a more than normal obsession with Pete Townshend. My mom is among the dearly departed but with me always; as she is right here, right now. I woke up around 5 with the song Boy Blue in my head...mainly the chorus,"Hey boy blue is back" I think she was telling me that I was indeed back, in many ways.
1. I am back from the dead...the hellish black death called the flu. 2. I am back from being worried about where my family will live. I received some advice from, of all people, a "legitimate" loan shark...if you can imagine such a thing. But if anyone knows who to work with people and money it is him. I have a plan, gonna pitch it, and let it fly. 3. And, I am going back to work. My least favorite of the three...
I am sure there is more. But this is a good start. Back in action. Back in the saddle, Back in black. You get it, I know you do.
Thanks for waking me up this morning mom, I love you.
I have an excuse for not posting this yesterday...I was in bed sick, but here goes anyway. Yesterday was the birthday of one of the most influential persons in my life not related to me. A few others are in there too...these guys named John, Paul, George, and Ringo, some dude named Jimi, a very cool cat named Jesus, a teacher from high school named Barclay, and a few others BUT one stands out from my childhood. None other than Pete Townshend from The Who! Oh, how you say can he be above someone like Jesus? Well, I didn't know Jesus then.
When I was a kid, like today, music was the only thing that made sense. Song lyrics were my gospel and Pete was like Saint Paul to me. Townshend's penchant for penning songs of teenage angst were just what I needed as an angry, misunderstood, creative (with few outlets), hurt, and lonely teenager. I think the masterpiece Quadrophenia hit me the hardest. A story of a young man with parents who didn't understand him, a society that made no sense, and four different personalities. Two songs in particular, I'm One, and 5:15 hit home the hardest. I remember thinking, "someone finally understands me". But enough about me.
I raise a glass to a genius, a true artist, and the master of smashing guitars!
LONG LIVE ROCK and PETE TOWNSHEND!! Thank God you didn't die before you got old!
The corporate world started to weigh me down. I wanted to wallow in it. But on my monitor, staring me in the face is The Memorandum From God, and just underneath that is a picture of my little princess. The lyrics speak for themselves.
The bar was the perfect escape from the rain. Pushing the door open with my pocketed hand, I looked to the bartender; “should I shake off the rain or continue to my stool”? His smile told me not to worry about it. I welcomed the smoke and even more the sound. A girl sat at a piano, dimly lit, a large snifter with a few singles perched atop.I knew the song and hummed along though there were no words. Maybe Sinatra, maybe Dean. It didn’t matter. It took me to a place that fit right in with my vodka as it slid toward me.I smiled into the glass looking for faces in the ice cubes. Faces I loved, and even those I didn’t.I saw them all. Still humming I smirked and strained to see those I may have passed by too quickly, dismissed too suddenly, fighting off regret. Yet I savored the possibilities of missed chances as though they were still there. It was exhilarating.
With a squeeze of my lime, the song was gone.The girl leaned back and nodded in appreciation to the ladies night out table cheering her on. I took a moment to down my glass, nod for another, and light a smoke.My glass was met with a few smoke rings. My accuracy pleased me and the bartender agreed.
The girl at the piano started something new. She changed everything, including me. The unrecognizable tune crept in slowly at first with the occasional resolve, yet dissonance seemed to rule. I couldn’t help turn to her as if to ask how she knew me. How did her fingers know what to say as they bounced from white to black, black to white, black and white? And she moved. Her long curls waved deliberately in front of her face with each staccato. Her backlit smile slid across her with each legato. Turning back to my glass the faces were gone, but all of those that were there before had left their mark. In an instant I was crying. The darkness hid my heaving, the raindrops hid my tears, and she played. As the movement moved, so did I.Tears of loss, tears of pain, tears of regret all fell at once…until the key change. Whether D minor, or F sharp it mattered not. Not at all, because I moved. I missed the other tears, the tears that outnumbered the first. My heart and mind flew as fast as her fingers, and followed her down a road of pure joy, peace and purpose. Yet it was an electrifying peace, perhaps a bit void of the conventional rendition.
I had gone where I need to go, and she took me there. Turning away from my vodka and tears, I honored her retardando and resolution. A slender, ringed finger signaled the end with a smile and a sole black key. The ladies night out table took a moment to respond. She more confused them than moved them. At least this time around. I doubt she heard my hand clapping but I know she saw my face as moved toward her jar. Maybe she knew what she had done. My eyes have never been good at hiding, especially when they are red. My hand reached for a couple singles as the other went to shake her hand. Her grip was gracious yet told me not to complete the transaction. She got what she wanted and I got what I needed. We shared a knowing grin and she went back to what she does. The ladies night out table knew this one. I did too. Definitely Sinatra, but I had heard what I came to hear.
On March 3rd, seven years ago, the beautiful girl in this picture was kind enough to marry me. We have been through so many tough, wonderful, heartbreaking, freaky, loving, um "unmetionable", times together. To spell out the whole story would take an entire blog, and none of you would believe it but here we are at Benihana celebrating our 7th year of marriage. (A guy at the table with us bought our whole dinner for us!)
So here is my song to my Angell. You can listen to a VERY ROUGH mix by clicking HERE!
The word for last night's show was perfect. Almost too perfect. Roger's voice had lost the strain he had at the Hollywood Bowl, but with just enough growl. Pete was dead on with all guitar parts. They came out swinging and never stopped. Last year's tour polished them up nicely. I must say my wife and I agreed the show at the Bowl was much edgier but I think that was due to a somewhat sterile, non-smoky environment. The crowd wasn't half as out of control. But we were! We didn't sit down during Wire and Glass...I even warned the guy next to me I was going to lose it. He politely asked that I keep my clothes on. The set was a bit different and the Tommy medley was shorter I think. Pino stood by his bass amp and Simon was in his perch. Zak, well Zak pounded the hell out of the kit. It was good to see Rabbit back on the keys.
All in all the show was picture perfect. Our seats were great and the company was better. My wife, cousins, and I had a full on blast. Saw Alice Cooper at his restaurant earlier, checked out a decent local band then the boys.
Tonite is the night! Seeing The Who again with killer seats! I also suffering from a concussion (more on that later) so it should be interesting! I can't focus long enough for a brilliant post but tonight will rock!!
