dreamsI'm back in the hotel enjoying a great Jon Stewart show - liberals arguing the war. I lean to the realistic which on some points, like how fast a 'draw down' or withdrawal can occur, actually is NOT Stewart's view.
Though he did make a funny editorial comment I agree with that 9/11 can't be a Bush conspiracy for one reason : it worked.
But on a lighter note - I love my Your Place pub. I don't know anyone well since I am a very irregular regular, but some of the characters I enjoy interacting (or not) with. Tonite I met a guy, career army, on his way back to Iraq for the 4th time, in town from Ft. Drum, NY to meet with his ex, herself a two-time vet of Iraq, to celebrate together a late birthday for their December born son. Interesting guy, a sniper, but not. A couple of notches below, according to him. He is the one called to hit physical targets, not personnel. Suspicious vehicle at 500 yards? Done. Suspicious item on a bridge strut? done. He now drives fuel trucks ("I got tired of being on point") so we had some cool discussion of convoys, Haliburton, and Blackwater. He was envious of the civilian pay until I told him how firms really worked, keeping that elusive tax free pay out of reach as a way of keeping contractors hooked for 'just a few more months'.
Meanwhile a 30-ish Backstreet Boy wannabe ( gelled hair, turtleneck, with gold jewelry outside the sweater) kept playing music that proved Kurt Cobain did us a favor with that shotgun. God! Psycho chimps screaming into mikes while beating up bass guitars is not music (sorry Sean!).
Salvation at last. A guy I have had a couple of brief conversations with over the years was there. A
ZZ Top-esque guy. 50's, long gray hair (maybe a Jerry Garcia clone) sat annoyingly doing nothing while we were all subjected to this screaming crap. Finally, he got up and approached the juke box. A few minutes later Michael Jackson came on with some 80's era tune that you can't help but smile to. I knew I had been saved. The next hour or so I was treated to this guy's great choices - from R&B to blues to rock to fun pop to deep country (early Cash and Willis). But the one song came on, and I realized I have an emotional problem.
There are some things that bring tears to my eyes and I have no control. Marching band music. The Star Spangled Banner; Extreme Home Makeover; Brian's Song; and this tune which as years go by, I think may surpass "Hotel California" as my favorite song in the world. It can play on forever and I would never get bored. I don't even know the lyrics so have no idea what the impact of the content should be. I just know I hear this railroad rhythm backbeat, the mournful sound of the vocals, and I drift into neverland.
I want to close my eyes, cry, and slip away.
So, WITH further ado which I just bored you with, my fave (or at least tied with 2 others - I'll have to tell you the other some other time), by the Counting Crows "Hey, Mrs. Potter".
Turn it up, sit back, close your eyes, and I DARE you to not be rocking back and forth in time and pounding the beat on the armrest within the first 20 seconds :
I just had to wait 7 minutes to post this so I could hear the song again :
"If You've Never Stared Off Into The Distance Then Your Life IS A SHAME!"
Well I woke up in mid afternoon cause that's when it all hurts the most
I dream I never know anyone at the party and I'm always the host
If dreams are like movies then memories are films about ghosts
You can never escape, you can only move south down the coast
Well I am an idiot walking a tightrope of fortune and fame
I am an acrobat swinging trapezes through circles of flame
If you've never stared off into the distance then your life is a shame
And though I'll never forget your face sometimes I can't remember my name
Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't cry Hey, Mrs. Potter, I know why
But, hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me
Well there's a piece of Maria in every song that I sing
And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings
And there is always one last light to turn out and one last bell to ring
And the last one out of the circus has to lock up everything
Or the elephants will get out and forget to remember what you said
Oh and the ghosts of the tilt-o-whirl will linger inside of your head
Oh and the Ferris wheel junkies will spin there forever instead
When I see you, a blanket of stars covers me in my bed
Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't go, I said Hey, Mrs. Potter, I don't know,
but Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me
Well all the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep
And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep
All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep
Hey, I can bleed as well as anyone but I need someone to help me sleep
So I throw my hand into the air and it swims in the beams
It's just a brief interruption of the swirling dust sparkle jet stream
Well I know I don't know you and you're probably not what you seem
Aw, but I'd sure like to find out So why don't you climb down off that movie screen
Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't turn Hey, Mrs. Potter, I burn for you
Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me
When the last king of Hollywood shatters his glass on the floor
And orders another Well, I wonder what he did that for
That's when I know that I have to get out cause I have been there before
So I gave up my seat at the bar and I head for the door.
Yeah. We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars
We stand up in the Palace, like it's the last of the great pioneer town bars
Aw, we shout out these songs against the clang of electric guitars
Well, you can see a million miles tonight But you can't get very far
Aw, you can see a million miles tonight But you can't get very far
Hey, Mrs. Potter, I won't touch and Hey, Mrs. Potter, it's not much
but Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me ? . . .
hmm, I just posted the lyrics as an edit - I've never seen them before, after noting those that I highlighted, maybe there's something to subliminal messages after all.
