Entertainment and Conversation at the Super Bowl

Conversation
A good crowd here today.
The woman next to me says I never
date a man who doesn't drink
isn't over 5'10
and didn't go to college.
Men in neutral ties talk silently about the game
there is only the buzz and clinking of barware.
What dating site?
Raiders suck this is a sausage fest.

I know you! Brady's drums, right!
One of the many misguided attempts to be a musician
brought me into this mans orbit. We talk about
music. Genesis, mostly. The Lamb Lies Down
while the game goes on not watched.

Commercial Break
The crowd groans at the stereotypes
kissing each other. Good for both of them
everyone convinced that she, being considered
exceptionally beautiful must be an exceptional
kisser. And he, being considered exceptionally
nerdy must not be. We know he can kiss better
than the chiseled because Hollywood tells us so:
All jocks think about is sports
All nerds think about is sex.

If I was single I could not begin
to know how to start a conversation.
The ladies lecherously size up the package
contained by Calvin Klein.
The men call them gay I laugh and say
"I wouldn't kick him out of bed."
And the ladies laugh and agree
while Paul gets angry at me.

Movies and movies and cream in the jeans
Iron Man is on the scene. Is there an 80s cartoon
not made into a movie? We got GI Joe and Transformers.
We got two White Houses blowing up.
We got retro chic for a time I remember
that makes me feel sick.

Entertainment
Alicia's anthem was too long or was too loungey
or just right.
Calling her lovely belittles the incandesence.
And on the TV a titillating train wreck of a dance starts.
And she is beautiful and sparkling and majestic and everything
an idol who also sings.
I love the fishnets and those thighs.
Is there a game on?
Does it even matter?

Top 40 #2: Inside by Jethro Tull

Year: 1970
Record: Benefit
Written by: Ian Anderson...you know, the person whom most people think is named Jethro Tull. The flute player and guy with the beard.

Inside

I wrote a poem about this not too long ago, as it is the song that got me interested in Tull. I was driving down College St. in front of the public library when I first heard this song, and was instantly smitten. For that, this song has brought me two things in most unequal measure:

1. Happiness
2. Grief

First, the happiness.

What grabbed me about this song was the flute hook. So happy and jaunty, it set off everything nicely. Also the lyrics about Counting Lambs and Sheep. Who the hell writes songs about that? This should have warned me about Tull, in that Anderson writes lyrics that veer between fun, obtuse, obscene, decadent and inscrutable, sometimes within one album (Thick as a Brick, Passion Play). This song stands for being in some place that is happy and secure, about not worrying about the past or future but reveling in the present for all its wonders.

Sitting in the corner feeling glad
Got no money comin' in but I can't be sad
That was the best cup of coffee I ever had!
And I won't worry 'bout a thing because we've got it made
Here on the inside outside so far away

But in reality it is not important for what it says but what it is, a gateway piece of music to my own rock and roll shame. I love Jethro Tull's music, and that may mark me as an incorrigible dick. What Ian Anderson does is engage my inner 12 year old struggling to be witty or at least witty while proving Tom Lehrer's dictum that "When correctly viewed, everything is lewd." In Tull's case, you don't really have to look to far. From the opening lines of "Aqualung" (Sitting on a park bench/Eyeing little girls with bad intent) to the despicable rock star in "Pied Piper" (I've a tenner in my skin tight jeans/You can touch it if your hands are clean) to eager farmer confronted with the gentry in "Hunting Girl" (Boot leather flashing the spurnecks the size of my thumb/This high born hunter had tastes as strange as they come) Tull is filthy and silly at the same time.

Or, who writes songs about their cats? "Look out little furry folk, it's the all night working cat!" Tull's songs bring me no end of joy because of the humor and musicianship. One thing that I have learned about music is that it is like wine. If you like it, it's good. I feel absolutely no shame in liking the song "Call Me Maybe" because it is catchy as fuck. I'm old enough to realize that now, where I was not in a place for this wisdom when I heard "Inside" sandwiched in a 4 song set along with "Cross Eyed Mary", "Bungle in the Jungle" and "Fat Man". Before I heard this song in the long gone Alabaster Disaster, I listened to in many ways what was expected of me regardless. Now, even though I still appreciate the Ramones, I don't really like their music much anymore. I'd rather listen to the Clash from that era, or perhaps the Dead Kennedys. Why? It says something to me. That is the point of everything. If it does not speak to you, then don't do it. Inside started that realization, and none too late.

This leads me to Grief.
I have taken more shit for liking Tull than for being a fan of the Pittsburgh Pirates. More people mock me for this than anything else. Lie to your boss? Steal a lollipop from a six year old out in front of the 7/11? Violate a toddler with a plastic goldfish? All of this pales in comparison to liking Tull. They are the best example of "the dinosaur era of self-indulgent Progressive Rock". They put out........CONCEPT ALBUMS! Their songs are too long, the time changes too rapid. Their sense of humor is awful and bordering on sexist, you swine!

 Add in the fact that you are a know-it-all-prick when you correct some clown who describes Jethro Tull as a "he" or point out that Tull, like Led Zeppelin, was better on acoustic numbers, and you have a fat shit burger to eat. C'mon, a fucking flute?????!!??!?!?!? They won a Grammy when Metallica should have won! For a heavy metal album!

Well, chief, that was 26 years ago or something, we all know the Grammys are meaningless pieces of gold plated douchebaggery and that Metallica is the one band in the observable universe that should not have given two fucks about winning a Grammy. Jethro Tull's frontman shows One Of The Great Truths In Life.

Ian Anderson, now 66, no longer needs to play to make money. But he does. He signs autographs after shows (mine is on my bookcase upstairs) and seeks out new Tull fans opinions about the music and readily mocks himself and gives roughly $400,000 a year to charity. He is an example that life is best enjoyed while doing something you love. He writes songs that he wants to write, not what Rolling Stone wants or what record company asshats want. Isn't that the whole damn point of being a rocker? Isn't that the whole point of being alive?

Top 40: A life in Songs

If we could pick 40 songs that define our lives, what would they be? What would be the criteria? How would we pick them out of the thousands of things floating around the aether?

I decided to answer this self-made challenge, and create an autobiography in the meantime. Yes, yes, who will really care about what songs are important to me, or what lyrics resonate with me. And to that I answer I do not know. All I do know is that wherever I go or whomever I speak to I always find songs that mean a lot to people. Why? Who knows. We do not spend enough time with what means something to us or trying to see why it struck us in that way when it did. But there are enough shared songs out there to create meaning for everyone.

#1: Handle With Care -- The Travelling Wilburys

Year: 1988
Record: Travelling Wilburys Vol. 1
Written by: Traveling Wilburys. This song was inspired by a box in Bob Dylan's recording studio labeled "Handle With Care".  All of the Wilburys contributed to the song.

Handle With Care


This song represents all I have ever wanted from someone. And, coincidentally, all that the beloved Rachel has given me.

I'm so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give

This may be Roy Orbison's one trick pony on this song, but it is genius. He was more than "Only the Lonely" and proved it on this album. For those of us on the cusp of lifetime loneliness his voice put feeling to what we were afraid of the most. Remembered for one thing and one thing only from 25 years ago. Cue the fast forward to 2016 reunion, alone and drunk.

Been beat up and battered around
Been set up and been shot down
You're the best thing that I've ever found
Handle me with Care

This is the single item I could ever tell my wife that made sense. Why? Who cares. How? Just do what you do. Handle me with care.

 When I first heard this song back in 10th grade, George Harrison touched my soul with a hot poker. It was a plea from a pseudo-dark place. My Dad was gone but not forgotten, showing up in the bars downtown to upbraid my friends for being drunk on school nights. He was drunk on work nights every day from 1950 to 1992. I was allowing him to crawl in drunk through my bedroom window twice a week, risking a tongue lashing from Mom for doing so but realizing that it was better than an ass kicking from Dad. He hit much harder than Mom, and knew where to place knees and elbows,

Handle me with care.

Why? I'm broken. Mentally shot and ground down. To drunk sometimes to realize what is best. Handle me with care. Orbison's lament is powerful for those who are lonely but also meaningful for those who are not. I still have a lot to give! Who doesn't? At the end of our ropes we look for those who would use us as an escape route, climbing to a place where we want to go ourselves. It makes us worthy of being alive; worthy of being the people others see us for but for which we remain blind. Such is the way of the depressed and self-abusing.

Won't you show me that you really care?

Is this sex? It is for some. For everyone, it is being with someone. Being present for the talks, naked and clothed. Being present for the failure and the success. That is how I have failed. I am absent in most days. I've leaned on Rachel for 20 years. Take her away and I fall apart. When she is angry it is an earthquake of unknown supports. My leans cause anger, always have and always will. Can I stop this slide?

I've been robbed and ridiculed.

You damn right I can.