"Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am vast. I contain multitudes." -Walt Whitman

:malicious user:

Thursday, March 04, 2004

i hate you

planes collide. perhaps it was angel remarking the other evening that this song reminded her of my would-be ex. perhaps it was the ex calling with three days' notice that she needed $500. i don't know.

i'm not an athlete. i'm not an artisan of any sort. i barely write. collecting music is my hobby - what i do to relax. and so it is that someone recently described my obsession by saying, mel gibson on stick, bob, that is one muthah of a collection. (and "mel gibson on a stick" has had me smiling for days.)

yet no matter the extent of my collection, there have always been, and will alway be, four corners of my musical pantheon: pink floyd, peter gabriel, blue oyster cult, and the alan parsons project.

which pretty much makes me a prog-rock fool. so be it; i grew up in the 70's with five older brothers, listening to ELP and ELO, discovering Genesis, King Crimson, and all those other mellotron slaves. bombast. pomposity. i love it.

but app will always have a special place in my heart.

i am about to seriously date myself: i attended high school in a time and a place when it was fashionable to paint the back of your denim jacket in homage to your favorite band. there were guys with ramones jackets and def leppard jackets and bruce springsteen jackets. there was a fantastic tarkus jacket worn by one of my classmates. my friend lorraine, who wore the the nickname 'bo' (for 'burnout') like a badge, offered to paint my jacket for me. and while i might have chosen animals or e.t.l. (which my mother forbade), i instead elected this. and wore it proudly for three years.

today the jacket no longer fits. but it hangs honorably in my closet, still pierced with pins bearing logos by ultravox and kate bush and pg. the paint is cracked but bright. i don't know where lorraine lives today, but her artwork survives, bearing her signature of "bo '82".

jonatha brook has just released back in the circus, which contains a cover of a classic progressive rock song. i caught her version the other morning on city folk, on my way to work. the arrangement is sparse and acoustic, the polar opposite of the original overproduced version. but the lyrics were almost untouched. and once again, like a scent that reminds you of a certain day at an unexpected place where things were finally, incredibly, right, so right that years can't steal the memory away, i was reminded of why that band meant so much to me. why that song epitomized how a person could smile and tear your heart out while she smiled. how you could crush a person down to dust while shaking his hand. how much more powerful it is to be subtle than to be strong.

alan parsons and eric woolfson wrote the world's most beautiful hate songs. like a deceitful lover, they sound so reassuring, until you pay close attention. and you find yourself left naked, barren, exposed.

it was the best education i ever got during those years.

Don't think sorry's easily said.
Don't try turning tables instead.
You've taken lots of chances before,
But I'm not gonna give anymore.
Don't ask me.
That's how it goes,
Cause part of me knows what you're thinkin'.

Don't say words you're gonna regret.
Don't let the fire rush to your head.
I've heard the accusation before,
And I ain't gonna take any more.
Believe me,
The sun in your eyes
Made some of the lies worth believing.

I am the eye in the sky
Looking at you;
I can read your mind.
I am the maker of rules
Dealing with fools;
I can cheat you blind.
And I don't need to see any more
To know that
I can read your mind, I can read your mind.

Don't leave false illusions behind.
Don't cry cause I ain't changing my mind.
So find another fool like before
Cause I ain't gonna live anymore believing
Some of the lies while all of the signs are deceiving.

I am the eye in the sky
Looking at you;
I can read your mind.
I am the maker of rules
Dealing with fools;
I can cheat you blind.
And I don't need to see any more
To know that
I can read your mind, I can read your mind.

copyright 1982 alan parsons/eric woolfson
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i used to be disgusted. now i try to be amused.
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