dirges given voice in the darkness

The girl who sang the blues finished her pleas for a new car, a color TV, and a night on the town, the player shuffled down a song, and the unmistakeable sounds of the E-Street Band took her place.  The Boss began to sing from his soul, and then his harmonica plucked yours loose to hauntingly tag along as he raced down the streets.

Blue flashes sparked off the dull red glow of the taillights shining in the windshield as you pressed firmly down on the gas pedal and sped through the morning gloom.  You didn’t mean to speed but you couldn’t help it either.  The car was trying to catch up to your soul as it flitted through memories of your past and visions of your dreams.

The Jack of Hearts, standing on the sidewalk next to a mangled motorcycle, his leg in a cast, caught your attention, a crystal clear image bursting from the blurred edges, but then you turned back to the road, back to the pursuit, back to the chase you’d been on before he’d caught your eye.  Bruce’s voice didn’t allow time for distractions.  There was too much urgency.  There was too much at stake.

The lights streamed into continuous lines of red.  Other colors swirled away to be swallowed by the darkness.  A warm glow on the horizon heralded the imminent arrival of dawn, but its time hadn’t come yet, and there were still miles to travel before it did.  The streak of yellow on the ground, running parallel to the taillights, slowed from its dizzying speeds as the song changed again.

The mournful crooning of passionate nostalgia faded away to be replaced by the deep rasping responsibility of the Man in Black as he went about walking his line.  He walked, you drove, and the line was heeded.  Johnny demanded it.  You would not, could not argue against that.  The quartet practicing in the park understood, even if they didn’t join along with the dirges given voice in the darkness.

The words may have resonated with your soul, still lost in the black world, but the darkness was slowly fading as the road continued to turn into the sun’s waiting embrace.  Ahead of you was warmth and hope.  Behind you was chill and despair.  In those moments just before dawn you doubted that even the intense fire waiting to pour down from the heavens had the power to lift the cold that had wrapped around the past you were leaving behind.

Even if you were in the habit of making deals with the devil, Jack Flash, sitting on his candlestick and laughing in delight, couldn’t free you from your rage.  Your world had changed irrevocably.  The entire world had changed and was never going back.  Johnny knew that, even as he sang of staying true to the one he loved, he knew that somethings in life were impossible to avoid, impossible to undue.  All you could do was keep driving down your road, keep chasing your soul.

You would be reunited eventually.  You were certain of that.  There would be twists and turns, ups and downs, roadblocks, tolls, detours, and all manner of distractions and scenic turnouts to slow your progress.  But, you would be whole again.  The colors of the coming dawn splashing in wide arcs across the star spotted sky spoke to that truth.  It spoke to all truths of life and death.  Your soul might be elusive, the music might have died, but, in the end, things would turn out as they had always meant to be.

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My response to the current Finish the Story prompt.  I have no idea what any of it means, but it was fun to write.  What did it say to you?  And, did you write a response of your own?  You’ve still got some time!  Go!  Do it!

 

Maxwell’s Silver Hammer

“Mom!”

Her child’s cry came, as always, at the wrong time.  She was elbow deep in an endless pile of dishes, and to go to him she would have to pull her gloves off, wash away the excess bubbles, and find a clean dish towel to dry her hands.  The last time she’d done that he’d only wanted a glass of water and he was old enough to do that on his own, finally.

She turned off the faucet, and then judging the stress in his voice, the sense of urgency, and the general location, she determined that he was still sitting in front of the TV and wasn’t in any immediate danger.  She hadn’t wanted to be one of those mom’s that just yelled from room to room rather than encouraging the behavior of getting up and having a conversation face-to-face, but it had already been a long day.

“What?”

She tried to keep her frustration out of the reply, and was pleased with how sweet her question sounded.

“Something’s wrong with Maxwell?”

She wracked her brain but couldn’t place the name.  It didn’t sound like any of the characters from the shows he normally watched.  “You’re watching TV, right?”

“Yeah.”

She waited for him to elaborate.  She sighed audibly when she noticed the small pool of water at her feet that had dripped off her gloved hands while she’d been distracted.  One more thing for her to clean.

After a nearly unbearable minute, “So, what’s wrong?”

“He’s acting strange.  Normally he’s funny.  Or, he’s just there, not doing much.  But, right now he’s being mean.  He’s got this great big silver hammer and he’s smashing things with it.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion.  That didn’t sound like any of the approved shows the smart chip was supposed to allow her son to find.  She didn’t want him to think she didn’t pay attention to the things that were important to him, but she was forced to ask, “Who’s Maxwell again, darling?”

“The pig.”

“The pig?”

“Yeah, from those commercials.”

“The car insurance commercials?”

“Yeah.”

“And, what’s he doing?”

“Mom!  I already told you!  He’s got this great big silver hammer and he’s going on a totally berserk rampage.  He’s smashing everything and everyone in sight!”

Water continued to drip from her hands as she sprinted out of the kitchen…

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This bit of silliness is my humble submission for Merry’s “A Beatles Contest!”  Everyone is welcome to join in the fun.  You’ll earn a new shiny badge for your blog if you do, and you could win a guest post, and all you have to do is:

Write (or draw…or both!) a post based on one of the songs [below]. Link it back to this post so that everyone has a chance to see the fabness that you created.

All entries will be judged by Paul.

paul

Here are the songs:
All My Loving
Day Tripper
Helter Skelter
Maxwell’s Silver Hammer
Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

You definitely want to join in the fun, right?  Get to it!  Write it, draw it, paint it, create it, then link it and post it, and, voila, you’re entered!

Imagine Remix

Raving has a bad rap…  and while a lot of what goes on in the warehouses and clubs is as seedy as the media makes it out to be, there is always an underlying theme, a community, that is so bright and loving that the harsher aspects are negated.

PLUR

Peace. Love.  Unity.  Respect.

Four simple words.  Four complex words.  Four words that I raved by.  Four words that if they could be transported out of the rave scene and brought to the homes of all those people who fear what they don’t understand, shun new forms of music and expression, and have shut their hearts and their minds to the possibilities that there may be better ways to do things, the world would truly be a better place.

It was the summer of 2003.  I was at the Electronic Daisy Carnival at Queen Mary Park in Long Beach, CA, grooving to one of my favorite dj’s.  And he dropped a remix of John Lennon’s “Imagine.”  A song that reflects PLUR better than any other song I know.  It was perfect.

In honor of that moment and those ideals, I have revamped Imagine, hopefully Lennon will forgive me or, at least, understand:

Imagine there’s no clubbing
It’s painful if you try
No decks below us
Above us the lights died
Imagine all the people
Not raving today…

Imagine there’s no records
It is too hard to do
Nothing to hear and dance to
And no remixes too
Imagine all the people
Not raving in peace…

You may say I’m a raver
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no disc jockeys
I assuredly can’t
No time for beats or rhythm
No musichood of man
Imagine all the people
Not raving the world…

You may say I’m a raver
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one

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Written as a thank you to Merry for helping me reach this major milestone.   The initial request was: “You can guest post for me anytime. Something say, Beatles perhaps?”

Well, how did I do?

…..

Are you a faithful kingdomite?  Do you have a request?  Let me know in the comments and I’ll see what I can put together for you.  (And for all those who already have their requests in, don’t worry, I have them all written down and I’m already working on them.  Your posts are coming.)

is this a joke?

Three people walk into a bar…

As the observer of this catastrophe I find it odd that the bar is big enough for all three to walk into at once.

They sat at a table near the middle and shouted together “wine and beer!”

Then immediately walk back out after realizing they had left their ID’s at home.

One of them calls out in a southern drawl, “I’m looking for the man who shot my paw…”

One of them asks the bartender with all seriousness, “Do you have any duck food?”

They sit at a table, and when the server comes to take their order they ask for, “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer.”

They look at each other and then decide to go someplace else.  The sign over the bar reads “Camelot,” and they are in the mood for something less silly.

Sheb’s plunking out a honky-tonk version of “Hey Jude” on a worn out piano in the corner.  The world may have moved on, but somethings will never change.

The call themselves The Wolfpack.  They order Jaeger shots all around and then hilarity and calamity ensue.

…..

Who can catch all the literary, musical, and movie references?

Bonus points go to anyone who can tell me the rest of the “duck food” joke.