oh my love

not that I am feeling altogether emo or mushy or as deep as the song can carry me when I am there, but I am singing the words and singing is a good thing, even if it's not done with the whole self... I finished (as finished as any of my babbling gets) the Instant Karma entry and put it up at myspace (and as deep or as meaningful {if only in my dreams} the babbling might have been, it’s reign as the current entry on myspace will be short lived as another is set to pop up there any moment now... or maybe tomorrow, to give the babbling half a chance to be read... we shall see...

the heart is a selfish mistress, after all, and mine claims every right to be as this life has been mostly altruistic (which is a selfish choice too as I so love giving and sharing and if it makes me happy, it can’t be that bad, ya know?)... I love how inspirations are coming together lately... one of you inspire me and I can see others of you influencing the words even as I am writing a comment or rhyme to one at any given moment... I can honestly thank the one I write to and yet, I just as honestly must thank a whole lot of you who communicate with me here and elsewhere, directly and through your public writings, for my mind multi-tracks during the writing process and I feel more connected for letting all of you in...

yes, even the evil one:z (naa naa nyuk nyuk and my tongue out in your general direction)...

if I am crazy, then I like being crazy... I mean, I even find my own scars (and the possibility that some wounds may never heal, but merely continue to bleed forever unnoticed until the depths are revisited) amusing... and if I am forever unnoticed by all the world, I am amused by my lack of recognition... and if I am never to know the true love sharing of intimate unconditional trust, I am amused by my loneliness... and you are right here with me (hopefully laughing at the right moments as I attempt to make my own distinction of self-mockery into an art form... not like Woody Allen or Rodney Dangerfield or even Don Rickles... not even like Steven Wright, though maybe a little closer... Stave Martin and Robin Williams might understand, but then, they chose the spotlight for their reasons and I choose the shadows for mine and there’s a big difference that only the shadows know)...

one primary difference is I don’t actually try to be funny... and my primary audience, if it can be called that, is me... the brain in this head observes me, reads me, and likes to laugh at me... with love and affection and all due respect (which is sometimes minimal, but then, what’s due is due), but laugh I do and I’m loving every minute of it, Jerry... hmmm, Seinfeld, no, Lewis, maybe...

I do miss my babbling though (as if it’s not noticeable here)...

so tonight I came home from work (finished one projected, started another) and ate a big salad and cooked up some halibut...I prefer sea bass, but Rasputin brought home halibut and tuna (sushi grade)... he likes the tuna more than I do... he works in wholesale sea food, in case I have not mentioned it for a while, and when I can remember to remind him on Fridays and hand him money, he sometimes remembers to bring home some fish and shrimp... so I just handed him another $20 for pot luck sea food (hopefully I’ll get what I like best, but at wholesale prices I am happy with whatever he can get)...

and then I sat here and fell fast asleep with one leg up on the table and the keyboard in my lap... must have been tired, aye?... I woke about 10:30pm and wrote the myspace entry and here we are, almost 2am... work in seven hours, still plenty of time for five or six hours of sleep if I don’t start wandering around the web and keep myself awake with the hope that I’ll find whatever it is I am looking for... I did not turn on the TV tonight except during the eating... on went Paul McCartney’s new double CD (though the second one is mostly him talking... P-Mac can babble!)... I can hear his pain, even as he keeps his songs light and mostly superficial... silly love songs, you know... though Mr. Bellamy was a bit strange... perhaps he was a pole sitter... and there’s the theme song for the used clothing store, or TV show of the same items, not yet created, of course, but there’s the theme song for it anyway...

the Beatles was always mostly John for me and I did not spend much time listening to Paul’s solo stuff... still, what Paul does do well is get his voice clearly heard... excellent production quality... that is missing from so many new bands these days... I liked That Was Me because I like nostalgic songs that that, but once again he copped out by repeating himself instead of coming up with a closing verse... Feet in the Clouds barely scratched the surface... Ever Present Past and You Tell Me are reflective, but I guess I am spoiled lyrically (by Harry Chapin, for one) and want more detail, depth, and feeling... House of Wax had my ears interested in the music more than any of the other tunes on the CD... I love a blues guitar... the lyrics are ok, maybe even good, though for me, something still lacks... and The End of the End is is a nice lullaby for heaven, I suppose...

alas, on first listening, I think he did not hit his stride musically, and that was always his forte, grabbing the catchy melody... even when there was nothing new, he’d weave notes into a pretty song... not so much this time... I think his muses have all died... gosh, this is a sad (and impromptu) review)...

anyway, Paul finally turned sixty-four and the answer to his 40 year old question is, no, she doesn’t still need him, she doesn’t still feed him, cuz, well, she died... sad, how life ends at the most inopportune times... it appears he didn’t lose his hair though... and if he wants to start again, he certainly has a high enough profile and more than enough connections to meet new people... ultimately, he’s still one of the biggest musical influences of the 20th century, even if he did not dig too deep lyrically and, at times, got as cavalier and whiney and about as repetitive as I do...

so here I am, awake as the night rolls by... alone again, naturally... too naturally, actually... and more and more I glance over at the phone, something I stopped doing in recent years... the ambivalence and perhaps a touch of trepidation lingers, however I think I’d like it to ring more again... I think I’d like to start sharing conversation again... and somewhere, a voice is asking me if I’m ready... Barry Manilow?...

and on that note, I pause, laughing, but serious too... Happy Firday the 13th, may it be wonderfully exciting like Halloween... and I hope life is smiling at your end of the line :)