YouTube Tuesday: My Bily Joel Problem

No one's perfect, least of all musical artists.

Billy Joel is a shining example. He can give you the chills with "Captain Jack" . . . then make you shake your head with tired hackwork like "Still Rock 'N' Roll To Me." Brilliant satire ("The Entertainer," "Angry Young Man") stands elbow to elbow in the catalog with "She's Always A Woman To Me," perhaps the single worst song by an otherwise good artist in modern musical history. That the same person created "Scenes From An Italian Restaurant" and "Uptown Girl" is baffling, and somehow sad.

That's My Bill Joel Problem. But the good outweighs the bad, certainly. Tonight's clip is Joel's brilliant "Ballad Of Billy The Kid." The clips from classic Westerns are a little bonus.

"Well, he never traveled heavy
Yes, he always rode alone
And he soon put many older guns to shame
And he never had a sweetheart
But he finally found a home
Underneath the boothill grave that bears his name"


YouTube Tuesday: 80s Rule, Part 7

No compilation of 80s videos would be complete without a contribution from Prince. Tonight's selection is "1999."

It's easy to get caught up in the persona, the outfits, the girls, and the total over-the-topness of Prince and lose sight of the fact that he is an extremely talented and influential musician and songwriter. In a way he was too good for the 80s, but in another of course he was absolutely perfect for them.

Some readers may remember when 1999 seemed like a long time in the future.

"I was dreamin' when I wrote this
So sue me if I go too fast
But life is just a party

And parties weren't meant to last
War is all around us

My mind says prepare to fight
So if I gotta die

I'm gonna listen to my body tonight
Yeah, they say two thousand zero zero party over

Oops out of time
So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999"

Another Lesson

I've been out of touch a couple of days, having been with a good friend for her father's wake and funeral.

Our rituals surrounding death, morbid and unnecessary though they often seem, do have the (positive?) side effect of bringing various emotions to the surface in the observer(s).

These emotions are often surprising.

I watched My friend over the past couple of days and at times I found Myself actually envious of her uncomplicated grief, the crushing sadness of losing her father untempered, unmitigated by any laundry list of confusing, conflicting feelings getting in the way.

I was envious too of her ability to let others be there for her, to accept the sincere concern we offered, to simply and completely sink down into our love and empathy the way one gives one's self up to a soothing bath. Envious of her grace in just allowing herself to be comforted.

I felt vaguely wrong in feeling envious of those things, until the lesson behind it all was made clearer.

During the funeral Mass, I found Myself crying for no apparent reason. I usually tune out during those times when circumstances mandate My presence in a church, but the relative darkness and the solemnity of the ritual are at least soothing.

The Gospel was one commonly used in funeral Masses, Luke 24:1-8. This passage recounts what happened on the Sunday after the Crucifixion, when women came to Jesus' tomb:

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, the women came to the tomb, bringing the spices which they had prepared. And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. And it happened that while they were perplexed about this, behold, two men suddenly stood near them in dazzling apparel; and as the women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, "Why do you seek the living One among the dead? He is not here, but He has risen. Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee, saying that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again." And they remembered His words.

The words washed over Me but that one insistent question lodged itself in My mind: Why do you seek the living One among the dead?

And I realized that that is something that we do in our lives, again and again: Constantly put ourselves through futile exercises, nonsensical efforts with as much as chance of succeeding as looking for the living among the dead. Death, being and feeling so final, drives the simple lessons home with great force at moments like that.

I cried, and couldn't stop for some time. Normally, even at a funeral Mass, I would've made more effort to stop. This time, though, I didn't feel the need to . . . the more I cried the deeper I could feel the lesson penetrating Me, penetrating to that place where words can't reach.

My friend, in the midst of her crushing grief, understood this lesson much better than I. She sought the comfort the living could provide in the face of the awesomeness and finality of death; her sadness and her response to the efforts of those who love her was complete, rational, and totally of its time and place. It was that rare thing-in-itself that lies outside the boundaries of our reflexive system of reason.

The thought that maybe this time I had truly learned that lesson caused Me to stop crying.

YouTube Tuesday: Coyote

It's a cliche to say "no one writes songs like _____ any more," but no one's writing songs like Joni Mitchell any more, or executing them like her, either.

Tonight's clip is a live version of "Coyote," one of the last great Joni songs before she lost her way in the jazz morass, never to return.

"Coyote," for Me, encapsulates a longing, a sweet pain so intense it defies words, even defies thought at times.

Alleged trivia fact: The "coyote" in question is actor/playwright Sam Shepard.



"I tried to run away myself
To run away and wrestle with my ego
And with this flame
You put here in this Eskimo
In this hitcher
In this prisoner
Of the fine white lines
Of the white lines on the free, free way"

YouTube Tuesday: Cheeseburger In Paradise

Summer's coming. And summer means that Jimmy Buffet, by forces of nature unknown to Me, racks up his customary $100 million or so in concert grosses.

I don't get it and never will. But OK, grab your blanket and your Mike's Hard Lemonade or similar portable intoxicant, pony up your $118 or whatever a Buffet ticket will go for this summer and have at it.

Not to say that Herr Buffet is totally without redeeming social value. I've always liked "Cheeseburger In Paradise." Buffet is as clever as he is shrewd.

"Tried to amend my carnivorous habits.
Made it nearly seventy days,
Losin' weight without speed, eatin' sunflower seeds,
Drinkin' lots of carrot juice and soakin' up rays.
But at night I'd have these wonderful dreams
Some kind of sensuous treat.
Not zucchini, fettuccini, or bulgur wheat,
But a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat.
Cheeseburger in paradise.
Heaven on earth with an onion slice.
Not too particular, not too precise.
I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise."


(Margarataville(tm) Frozen Dinners are available in your local supermarket. Ask for them by name!)

Knowing and Knowing

Often, I'll say something to someone and their response is "I know."

"I know" is a common deflector. We all use it in response to something that we don't want to hear, something we are embarrassed about, something we actually are going to get around to, something that we have no intention of ever doing, or, most perversely (and perhaps most commonly) of all, something we really don't know at all. It can mean "OK," "I really do agree with you," "screw off," "sorry," "I feel your pain," and a whole host of other things.

But what it almost never means is "I know." Because there is knowing, the way we've come to treat that phrase, and there is knowing.

The distinction is readily apparent in the D/s context. The nature of the Dominant/submissive relationship is often that the Dominant ends up saying a lot of stuff, and the submissive ends up saying "i know" in response. A lot.

And when the submissive says that, more often than not s/he means it. Aside from intentional bratting or in a relationship that is well down the slippery slope to dissolution, the submissive's "i know" is sincere, i.e., s/he really thinks s/he knows.

And s/he might. But most likely not. Not because s/he is incompetent or lazy, but because knowing is available to us all, but knowing is rare.

Knowing, as embodied in the phrase "i know," is a simple cognizance of a fact, generally-accepted principle, or piece of common or uncommon wisdom we've come to internalize.

This brick is red. Beggars can't be choosers. Hitler shouldn't have waged war on two fronts. One might say "I know" in response to any of those, with varying degrees of interest or irritation.

The simple knowing also can encompass desired states. The Mom and apple pie sort of things that we understand and more or less acquiesce to without really changing anything inside us.

You shouldn't care too much about what other people think. Working out will give you more energy. a submissive should serve with passion, always.

And thus "I know" becomes that deflector -- it expresses nothing, least of all any true knowledge. It's offered as proof of our depth and concern and sensitivity, but there is nothing behind it, because "I know" closes the case in our minds. What is usually left unsaid after "I know" is "let's move on to something I can feel better about."

The other "knowing," what I've referred to as knowing, above, is an almost bodily sense of conviction. The common way to refer to this might be knowing in one's head as opposed to knowing in one's heart, but that's a glib definition that's ultimately meaningless.

Knowing is being convinced to the extent that behavior/actions actually change. The cart needs to go before the horse. Change first, "know" second. The result is that one ends up knowing without actually "knowing" how or why. Because knowing is the inescapable result of the correct approach, not the result of any specific actions or procedures.

The first step is being aware that there is knowing and there is knowing. Once one comprehends that, then "I know" can begin to take on a different, much more important, meaning.