“Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.”
Time for bed was what I had in mind. It was 2:00 AM and I found it necessary to research something on the computer before drifting off into the enchanted land of mirth and merriment that I personally wish my dreams would consist of. Well, what I really wished to look up was a version of a song that caught my ear just prior to turning the television off. YouTube serves this need admirably. Just about any genre of music can be found with numerous examples of most compositions from the last fifty years. You can listen to original albums cuts, live performances, covers by other artists, and even gag versions of the chosen tunes. I discovered this about a year ago when I purchased and set up the latest desktop computer I keep.
The discovery was not of any great consequence. Certainly it was not on a par with, oh, the apple hitting Newton on his noggin, or Columbus peering through an eyepiece and discovering not India but the New World, or any other breakthrough of actual relevance. The unearthing undergone actually amounted to just a random meandering on the web for something to do with some free time. I had discovered an addiction while employed as a teacher which was given face in a foolish, useless game that I unearthed while teaching summer school a few years ago. The class was a computer based self-paced tutorial that required little or no effort on my part. The teacher’s computer in this classroom included said mindlessness on the hard drive and it captured me in its clutch’s and has yet to release me. Actually, I cannot truly claim an addiction in that the very essence of my being (in recovery) tells me to fight the reliance of outside entities to change the manner in which I experience emotions. I do not battle this infatuation as I am completely content to wallow in the grasp of this evil entity.
Well, dealing with the negative side of this pastime is not the point I make today. The discovery (you know, the one of no reasonable significance) of music on the same computer as the game proved to be a quite enjoyable diversion. Listening to one song at a time helped to ensure that carpal tunnel syndrome the game might create was no danger, and I got to remember a softer, crazier time when I wanted to be a Rock n’ Roll star.
I come from the generation that is responsible for all of the really important music ever written. Yes, I know you disagree, and would be happy to educate me out of my ignorance. Well, keep it to yourself…you are all full of male bovine excrement!
I grew up on the Beatles. Enough said!
Well, there is most assuredly more to the story than that. The times we lived in with the war in Southeast Asia, the burgeoning of Liberation Theology in the black communities of the inner cities, the rise of feminism, the discovery that drugs (well, some of them) could expand your consciousness, and the attainment of the dream of placing a man on a terrestrial body other than Earth have yet to be equaled. Yes, there are probably many arguments to my point that would suggest narrow-mindedness, lack of a competent education and, perhaps, idiocy or mental deficiency (or might it be deviancy?). My answer to any of those viewpoints would be to refer those opposing my standpoint to the earlier comment about livestock ordure.
I am the master of all I perceive! I rule my world, and shall brook no contest in my beliefs! Just as everyone reading this, as well as the entire population of this planet, is also in charge of their lives. We live in a society that allows for the belief and adherence to whatever psychological, emotional, and spiritual dogma we choose. I elect to regard the message of love and understanding expressed in the songs of the Fab Four as unquestionably practical, sensible, and divine.
As stated, I wished to regale readers of a momentous discovery my pitiful self-important ego told me was of great consequence. I further wished to amuse you with the fantasy in my feeble attempt to describe The Geezer Band, an ensemble of my own construct where, if I had my way, I would play lead, rhythm, and bass guitar as well as all keyboards, the entire horn section of an orchestra, all vocalisms (lead and backup), and a fifty-five piece drum set. The lifestyle and the fans along with the enormous entourage of sweet young girls in miniskirts peering at me in veneration, adoration, and idolatry complete the self-delusion.
The education which cemented my competence with the written word, coupled with the cultural recollections from which the Bards of the Celtic Druidic ancestry bequeathed me by way of birthright promised a romping good read. Then, the opening verse of John Lennon’s “Imagine” came wafting from the speakers, and brought me back to earth.
After that, “Here Comes the Sun” reminded me of the several beautiful women I fell in desperately delightful love with over the years while singing (off key naturally) the wondrous George Harrison lyrics while looking deep in their eyes.
Then Came “In My Life” and I found myself once more lost in the melody and words of the greatest song writing team in history while reflecting on what my personal life experiences had given me.
Each click of the mouse strengthened my grasp on reality and the emotion of what the world actually meant to me; Can't Buy Me Love, Don't Pass Me By, Eleanor Rigby, Every Little Thing, Golden Slumbers, Hey Jude, I'll Cry Instead, Let It Be, Lovely Rita, Michelle, Nowhere Man, Rocky Raccoon, Sun King, You're Going To Lose That Girl, Something, Strawberry Fields Forever, Polythene Pam, The Long And Winding Road, I'm A Loser, The Fool On The Hill, Besame Mucho, and Baby It's You…all listened to with the respective memories from years gone by cascaded in to keep me going…right up to now…5:08 AM.
So what is there for me to do now? Stay in the real world and leave the fantasy for the short story I am writing for a mystery magazine. Today is Saturday and there is naught to do but sleep. Something tells me that the words I put down later today might just be a love story. They might just be to the object of my current affection. She doesn’t wear miniskirts, or look at me with false or contrived adulation. She is just beautiful. Perhaps when I see her again I can peer deep into her eyes and sing not of the coming of the dawn but offer truer words…
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you
Tomorrow I'll miss you
Remember I'll always be true.
Tomorrow I'll miss you
Remember I'll always be true.