{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
Bitch, I’m loca (Y yo loco, loco)
Bésame la boca (¿Y tú qué me das?)
Bitch, me gusta (Y yo te provoco)
Mucho que me asusta (Por eso no te vas)
One of the weaker tracks from Madonna’s ‘Madame X’ opus, ‘Bitch I’m Loca’ is another duet with Maluma, who shone to far better effect on ‘Medellín’. This one has a grittier edge to it, closer to the work they did for his own album at the time. I enjoy the rawness of it, I only wish it came with a slightly better melody, and a more creative title. (Didn’t she get all the bitches out of her system with the ‘Rebel Heart’ album?)
As for my own memories of this song, they aren’t strong and they aren’t many. Mostly because I skipped is every time it came on. The summer of ‘Madame X’ had more joys and enchantments to bother with than this filler track.
So nice to meet you, Mr. Safe
So nice to meet you, Mrs. Crazy
Where do you want me to put this?
Um, you can put it inside
The rain was tugging on these fall berries, but they held fast to their perch, refusing to let go. Such obstinance in the face of nature is admirable. Eventually they know they must succumb. Even if they manage to remain on their host branch for the winter, the wind and the cold will desiccate and decimate them, until they resemble tiny black shriveled raisins, if they resemble anything at all. Sometimes winter takes all of what they once held inside them, turning it inside out and exposing the tender fruit and seeds.
Still, there is something to be said for putting up the good fight.
Fall brings to mind lessons like this – lessons of resilience and strength, of going through with the mission of life even when adversity seems poised to win, even when the outcome looks grim or at best uncertain. It’s the nobility in finishing a race you already know you have lost, of closing out a game in which there is no possible way to win. The simple act of seeing something through to completion, no matter what the end may look or feel like.
And, truth be told, one never knows how benign or kind the winter may be. Perhaps Mother Nature has doled out enough pain with all of this summer’s rain. Perhaps she’s battered us enough. We’ve had years where such berries lasted well into December. I remember a holiday stroll in Boston where there were roses still blooming. Part of that felt wrong, but mostly I just embraced the reprieve, pulling them close to my nose and laughing at our luck.
Borne back by the night, by the song of a piano in the fall, I stumble into something that feels like crying, or a heaviness of the heart that doesn’t quite lift when it should. Like a house at the turn of a stream, where the water forever falls, even in the hottest and happiest summers, the heart stands still while the world flows around it.
Looking into the rush of the water, I see stones that have kept their stillness and place, unbothered by the babbling around them, undisturbed by the algae, untouched by the fish – I try to embody the implacable peace and resignation of those stones, the way they so calmly exist without intruding. Longing for that stillness, I imagine sinking beneath the water and beneath the silence – beneath the fall and the winter and the spring to come – and there is a tranquility in that space.
There is a little sliver of grace in that moment – the water ever flowing, never the same, never replenished and yet never-ending. Masters of mindfulness sometimes offer the image of a pebble dropped into a stream to aid in achieving a state of meditation, the idea of the pebble sinking straight down despite the swirl of water around it. While water plants and animals swim and undulate in the currents of the stream, the pebble stays to its quick path, then remains where it lands – a point of absolute stillness and serenity no matter what madness whirls about above it.
I yearn for the certainty of that, for the grace of being within that stillness. We each seek it in our way, at least I hope that we do. It seems like such a noble quest. I want to believe we all want to be better, even as the world batters me with the irrefutable news of how awful we can be to one another. And then I wonder if maybe the world is already broken, like a tree that splits and crumbles under its own weight and some other unforeseen disaster, irreparable and irreplaceable, and we can only live in a place that’s forever fractured.
It was in this post where I describe the spooky ghoul who predicted my death date as… wait for it… (but don’t wait that long)… today, September 23, 2021. So depending on what time of the day this cataclysmic (for me) event takes place, this post may be coming to you posthumously. Of course, as is my wont, I won’t be going quietly or easily, so consider this anything but a parting shot. I’ve touched enough people to live on for quite a few more years, even if I’m not physically here. There are stories to tell, memories to rekindle, and ways to survive beyond this world. In truth, my presence often looms larger when I’m absent… and you don’t even know it. Don’t think that wasn’t designed.
There’s a clock on the wall and it’s moving too slow
It’s got hours to kill and a lifetime to go
And I’m holding my breath ’til I hear the last bell
Then I’m coming out hard and I’m giving ’em hell
For a last song, this one truly sings to me. It’s not about fading out or going gently into that good night. It’s from my latest obsession ‘Everybody’s Talking About Jamie’ and it could function as a hello and goodbye… and you don’t even know it.
I’m a superstar and you don’t even know it
In a wonder bra and you don’t even know it
You’re so blah, blah and you don’t even know it
I’m like, au revoir and you don’t even know it
There’s a path I’ve planned (and you don’t even know it)
To the promised land (and you don’t even know it)
And you won’t understand (and you don’t even know it)
‘Cause you’re my backing band (and you don’t even know it)
And it’s the Jamie show (and you don’t even know it)
‘Cause you’re meh, so-so (and you don’t even know it)
And sorta slow (and you don’t even know it)
And I’m go, go, go (and you don’t even know it)
When I was first told of the day I was going to die, I was both relieved and grateful – relieved that it was set and done, and grateful for the two years I had then in which to tick through my bucket list. The only problem? I don’t really have much of a formal bucket list – – and so I proceeded through the last two years fumbling along as I’ve done for much of my life – while improving and bettering myself in small increments. Regrets? Nah. Every misstep and mistake made me smarter, better, faster, stronger and all that shit. I also did it while impeccably attired. The world crumbled around us, but I would not go down without a sartorial last stand.
I’ve got the dreams, I’ve got the style
I’ve got the moves to make you smile So kiss my ass goodbye
‘Cause I’m gonna be the one
I’m on my way, I won’t be turned
Your stupid lessons I’ve unlearned
And I’ll be free to fly
And I’m gonna kiss the sun…
While the fashion fairies worked their magic on my exterior, I also worked on what was going on inside – the heart, the head, the soul – all of it messy and convoluted and embedded with years of turmoil, trouble and transformation. The quest for perfection – a foolish and impossible quest with no happy ending – was seen as the dead end it always was, and in its place I found a happier freedom, dropping the guard in ways I never thought possible.
And if ever you find life is getting you down
There’s a party to start in a new part of town
Where there’s a guest list of one and the name’s Jamie New
And if you ask me real nice I might sign you in too
‘Cause baby I’m a hit (and you don’t even know it)
Legit (and you don’t even know it)
Better give me room (and you don’t even know it)
For my va-va voom (and you don’t even know it)
‘Cause I’m coming up (and you don’t even know it)
In a double D cup (and you don’t even know it)
When a boy’s this stacked (and you don’t even know it)
He’s the headline act (and you don’t even know it)
What would you do if you were told the exact day you were going to die? Live it up? Give it up? Change your life? Change nothing at all? For the most part, I forgot about the prediction until someone at work brought it back up. Part of me thinks I would have sailed through this day without incident if I hadn’t been reminded of it. Now a small, fantastical part of me thinks I may unwittingly will it into being, pricking my finger on some hidden spindle I didn’t remember storing in some dim corner of the attic.
I’ve got the dreams, I’ve got the style
I’ve got the moves to make you smile
So kiss my ass goodbye
‘Cause I’m gonna be the one
And when you’re old, like 32
You’ll all remember Jamie New
The kid who learned to fly
And I’m gonna kiss the sun
Which brings us to this moment and the hours that remain to the day – perhaps my last day – perhaps your last day too because who knows when anyone’s time is up? I feel like I should have some contingency plan in effect, when in fact all I have is a couple of posts pre-populated here (and none of them particularly exceptional, so tell everyone this was my last one). Beyond that there is only the beautiful abyss, the beautiful hereafter, the beautiful whatever-is-to-come… and that holds true for every day – the ones we don’t get to begin, and the ones that we do.
Oh baby I’m a hit (you don’t even know it)
So admit (we you don’t even know it)
Yeah, I’m a hit (she you don’t even know it)
Just a bit (he you don’t even know it)
And I’m smoking hot (we you don’t even know it)
And I’ve got the lot (we you don’t even know it)
Yeah, what I got (she you don’t even know it)
Yeah, you have not
We don’t even know it (you don’t even know it)
We don’t even know it (you don’t even know it)
She don’t even know it (she don’t even know it)
He don’t even know it (he don’t even know it)
We don’t even know it (you don’t even know it)
She don’t even know it (you don’t even know it)
She don’t even know it
And you don’t even know it
It took about 40 years, but Abba is finally releasing new music this fall, and ‘Don’t Shut Me Down’ is officially our song of the season, charming with its typically lush melodies and harmonies, and lyrics that lend themselves to myriad universal readings – as any decent Abba song does. My own take is going to align with the fall season, and the opportunity for a renewal of promises, a promise of a new beginning, and a beginning of something that might be more wonderful than anything we’ve known. After a summer of disappointment, such over-the-top proclamations are welcome – and if we fail at reaching the moon and stars, perhaps we’ll land in some lofty tree top that still manages to afford something better than where we’ve been treading.
A while ago I heard the sound of children’s laughter
Now it’s quiet, so I guess they left the park
This wooden bench is getting harder by the hour
The sun is going down, it’s getting dark
A group as venerable as Abba might seem an unlikely choice for injecting something fresh and new into the stagnancy that was this summer, and perhaps the previous year, but on giving this one a few listens, I’m here for it and all its creamy lusciousness. It matches the slightly gaudy color scheme we’ve implemented for fall – the brilliant clash of orange and fuchsia, and touches of bright purple and hot pink to add further spark and jarring juxtaposition. Sometimes more is simply and wonderfully more.
I realize I’m cold
The rain begins to pour
As I watch the windows on the second floor
The lights are on, it’s time to go
It’s time at last to let him know
I believe it would be fair to say
You look bewildered
And you wonder why I’m here today
And so you should, I would
When I left I felt I’d had enough
But in the shape and form I appear now
I have learned to cope
And love and hope is why I am here now
If you are one of the marvelous readers who has returned here faithfully over the past couple of decades, first of all, thank you. It is for us that I keep posting and writing and creating, and if you gather any enjoyment or amusement from this, it means more than you know. Second, faithful visitors over the last few years may have seen the gradual shift in tone and atmosphere, as a personal blog is prone to reflect the shifts and evolution of the person in charge of it. While appearance and superficial flash will always have a place here, there’s room for something deeper, something more meaningful, and I’m finding that more in my friends and family, and in the journey of becoming a better person, no matter how small or slight the increments or reaches end up being.
And now you see another me, I’ve been reloaded, yeah
I’m fired up, don’t shut me down
I’m like a dream within a dream that’s been decoded
I’m fired up, I’m hot, don’t shut me down
I’m not the one you knew
I’m now and then combined
And I’m asking you to have an open mind
I’m not the same this time around
I’m fired up, don’t shut me down
And so we begin a new fall season – the concluding phase of our 18th year (#19 begins in January 2022!) There are a few new characters about to be introduced, some old traditions that will hopefully be resurrected, and that recharged autumnal energy that can only come from a chill in the morning air. I want to continue expanding and implementing the mindfulness that comes with meditation, while working to be a better husband, son, uncle, brother, and friend. That means there’s a little more personal investment in the stories spun here, and a deeper emotional pull that makes this a labor of love. There’s also a humility and vulnerability at work as well, because I’m going to continue to make mistakes, and nothing here was ever, or will ever be, perfect. We will reckon with that too – and that’s always going to be more riveting than my naked ass – or any naked ass for that matter – could ever be.
Will you leave me standing in the hall
Or let me enter?
The apartment hasn’t changed at all
I got to say I’m glad
Once these rooms were witness to our love
My tantrums and increasing frustration
But I go from mad
To not so bad in my transformation
Fall is the prime time for such new ventures. It’s when we get to see how our little cast of characters has evolved and changed, what sort of new hairstyles they have (mine will be gray) and what new wardrobe selections will be revealed (I’m embracing Harry Styles and high waists of late). Above and beyond that, there are some familiar and not-so-familiar faces entering the fray – the twins are now old enough to stay over and be more or less self-sufficient. We have a traditional Treasure Hunt weekend coming up that may involve a trip to Manchester, Vermont. Our cousin Tyler is back on the East Coast and up for more adventures. And a long-lost high school friend from Amsterdam resurfaced, so watch for her Boston debut here as well. All in all, some good people are set to join our crazy circle.
And now you see another me, I’ve been reloaded, yeah
I’m fired up, don’t shut me down
I’m like a dream within a dream that’s been decoded
I’m fired up, I’m hot, don’t shut me down
I’m not the one you knew
I’m now and then combined
And I’m asking you to have an open mind now
I’m not the same this time around
I’m fired up, don’t shut me down
Even better than the new are the stalwart standbys – the precious people who have populated my life and saved it on more than a few occasions – friends and family who continue to enrich my life, and make the marked difficulties of living in such a time not only bearable but enjoyable – and for that I am extremely thankful and excited. They are the main characters of this space, and if you’ve been here with any regularity you know them by name. Here, everybody is a star.
As for you, who are reading this now – you are always welcome to join in the fun. I’m glad you’re here. Let’s head into fall together.
You asked me not to leave
Well, here I am again
And I love you still and so I won’t pretend
I have learned to cope
And love and hope is why I am here now.
Actor, singer and songwriter Sean Doherty is more than a triple threat – his talents reach into the multitudes well beyond the number three, and his latest exercise in catchy ear candy is the delicious ‘boys in the backseat’. Today he earns the Dazzler of the Day for all the promise and excitement that his career looks to hold. Check out his intoxicating website here for further details.
Some consider Harry Styles the heir to Mick Jagger’s throne, and some think he’s gone beyond that into a stratosphere of new rock-pop superstardom. His latest album is an exercise in musical genius, and his live performances are spectacular, designed with the wisdom of letting his unbridled charisma and star-power shine through. Sparkling fringe vests and rainbow flags are just cherries on this Dazzler of the Day – and I love anyone who lives up to their name.
Continuing his quest for world domination on a Madonna scale, Lil Nas X recently revealed the album art for his upcoming ‘Montero’ opus, out September 17, 2021. He takes up the racy mantle with a naked pose that slightly reminds of Prince’s ‘Lovesexy’ moment, then goes one step further with a fun and enticing video intro. At the present pop culture moment, no one is doing more to so wondrously titillate and gloriously infuriate the masses than Lil Was X, and I am here for all of it. (Check out his Dazzler of the Day feature here.)
Never in my life did I think that Debbie Gibson’s 80’s classic ‘Lost In Your Eyes’ could be improved, but Joey McIntyre helps her turn it into the duet that it feels like it may have always meant to be. Following in the steps of Gibson, McIntyre earns his own Dazzler of the Day tribute here, with his own musical evolution and survival in a career that began as part of a boy band – not typically the most lasting of careers. That McIntyre has turned it into a life-long series of unexpected successes (see his hilarious acting turn in ‘The Heat’ for example) and his recent solo albums, and you have a list of reasons why he’s our Dazzler of the Day. (Also note his previous appearances as Hunk of the Day here, and Hunk of the Day there.
The mark of great music for me is whether you can listen to something for a long time, then come back to it and still feel the same emotional thrill while discovering new elements, new sounds, new nuances that escaped you on the first few listens. A good album grows and evolves that way, revealing itself slowly over time, and resonating in differing stages of development.
But I can see us lost in the memory
August slipped away into a moment in time
‘Cause it was never mine
And I can see us twisted in bedsheets
August sipped away like a bottle of wine
‘Cause you were never mine
For all the awfulness of 2020, the melancholy musical journey that Swift framed and guided us through was an integral part of how I managed to survive and at times thrive when the world around us fell to pieces. She provided a contemplative background for processing the dramatic shift in how we lived our lives, and the ways we were all changing. Change isn’t easy for most people – looking back the entire population experienced the greatest changes most of us had ever experienced as far as socialization and day-to-day life went.
Your back beneath the sun
Wishin’ I could write my name on it
Will you call when you’re back at school?
I remember thinkin’ I had you
But I can see us lost in the memory
August slipped away into a moment in time
‘Cause it was never mine
And I can see us twisted in bedsheets
August sipped away like a bottle of wine
‘Cause you were never mine
In so many ways, both wondrous and wicked, that year feels like a dream and a nightmare. How did we manage to make it through? And how did it keep twisting and turning as it careened into 2021 without a drastic return to what we all thought would be something better? It’s too soon to tell – we’re still in the muck of it and we don’t seem to be learning the lessons we are too stubborn or stupid to try to learn. I fear for all of us.
Back when we were still changin’ for the better
Wanting was enough
For me, it was enough
To live for the hope of it all
Cancel plans just in case you’d call
And say, “Meet me behind the mall”
So much for summer love and saying “us”
‘Cause you weren’t mine to lose
You weren’t mine to lose, no
August is one of the trickiest months of summer. September has already given up the ghost. July is prime. And June… ahh… June… June is nearly perfect. But August, so full of herself one moment, so timid and unsure the next – she’s fickle and fun and infuriating. Maybe not the most happy or peaceful months in which to be born, another illustration of how little say we actually have in the world.
But I can see us lost in the memory
August slipped away into a moment in time
‘Cause it was never mine
And I can see us twisted in bedsheets
August sipped away like a bottle of wine
‘Cause you were never mine
‘Cause you were never mine, never mine
August holds the heart in tremulous and deceptively-delicate hands, rough and wizened from digging in the earth as some Virgos are wont to do, yet tender and easily cut. August sunsets bleed behind shadowy oak trees that will hang onto their leaves long after they have browned and expired. August lends the world both flowers and seeds, the excitement of the hunt and the plight of the hunted. She toys and teases, carouses and caresses, and when you think she has finished with you she starts all over again, setting up a second act of summer that sifts into September.
But do you remember?
Remember when I pulled up and said, “Get in the car”
And then canceled my plans just in case you’d call?
Back when I was livin’ for the hope of it all, for the hope of it all
“Meet me behind the mall”
Remember when I pulled up and said, “Get in the car”
And then canceled my plans just in case you’d call?
Back when I was livin’ for the hope of it all
It took a Debbie Gibson mix-tape playlist that entranced me on Sirius XM radio while coming back from Boston this week that reminded me of the brilliance that Gibson has been creating since the 1980’s. She recently dropped her first album of brand new material in twenty years -‘The Body Remembers’ – and the cuts I’ve heard thus far are as compelling as those she was making in our youth. (Absolutely in love with ‘Strings’!) Back then, it was ‘Lost in Your Eyes’ that held my rapt attention, cemented by the dance abandon of ‘Electric Youth’ – and her parade of pop hits informed my childhood more than I realized. More compelling was watching her artistry mature and evolve, all while somehow retaining an integrity and talent that so many others squandered in the industry. For that alone, she earns this Dazzler of the Day honor. Hearing her new album reminds me that while youth still contains its own electricity, maturity and grace resound and resonate more profoundly these days. Check out Debbie Gibson’s official website here for links to all the new music and upcoming performance dates.
THEY SAY I SHOULD WATCH THE SHIT I POST, OH GODDAMN
SAY I’M TURNING BIG GIRLS INTO HOES, OH GODDAMN
THEY SAY I GET GROUPIES AT MY SHOWS, OH GODDAMN
As I quickly approach whatever unplanned birthday shenanigans may come to pass, it seems only fitting to celebrate in my birthday suit, which I’ve largely neglected to do in recent months just because it’s been done to death. The categories for ‘Male Nudity’ and ‘Gratuitous Male Nudity’ come with a long list of accompanying posts and links – proof that an examination of the physical body in all its unadorned fashion has proven as ubiquitous as flowers or Madonna in these parts. During the last couple of years, however, my interests have careened to other places and poses, changing the overall arc of this site, but every now and then a song calls for some sort of exhibitionist celebration, and rather than retreat into the shyness that social isolation has only emboldened, I’m challenging my online self to return to the glory that once provided so much clickbait.
SPENDING ALL YOUR TIME TRYNA BREAK A WOMAN DOWN
REALER SHIT IS GOIN’ ON BABY, TAKE A LOOK AROUND
IF YOU THAT THAT I WAS RATCHET WITH MY ASS HANGIN’ OUT
JUST WAIT UNTIL THE SUMMER WHEN THEY LET ME OUT THE HOUSE, BITCH
The last couple of years have seen the aforementioned turn for this blog, something that can only be appreciated and understood more fully and accurately with the benefits of hindsight and time. The way a person changes and evolves, the shifts and gradual gradations of movement a person makes – these are slow and incremental, often going unnoticed on a day-to-day level, and only more fully fathomed when months and years begin to pass and a bigger picture is revealed. This is one of those moments when I see how many corners this site has rounded, how vastly different it is from just a few years ago. The good thing is that I’m generally happier with the way things are, more fully confident and genuinely secure in the person I’ve become. It’s not something that can be completely taught, and it’s not something that can be accomplished with the help of anyone else. The essential nature of such growth is based on an autonomy of existence – from there, and only from there, can one invite anyone else into their world.
(TALKIN’, TALKIN’, TALKIN)
GIVE ‘EM SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT
SICK OF RUMORS, BUT HATERS DO WHAT THEY DO
HATERS DO WHAT THEY DO
Meanwhile, people are left to conjecture and whisper, sit and spin, and the rumors and the water will swirl about, encircling and clouding the proceedings if one lets all that stuff become anything more than what they are. My teenage self consistently reveled in the rumors – both in starting and being the topic of them – more often than not at any expense. Anything to enliven the doldrums of an adolescence in Amsterdam, New York. Anything to brighten up a summer. If I had to be the subject to add some drama to the stultifying non-events of our upstate New York world, so be it. “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.” You know the routine. Was it right or wrong? I don’t think it’s possible to say. The answers to all of life’s questions are rarely so clear-cut. Sometimes the mere rearing of a question is an end unto itself, the very symbol of a question mark a curvy symbol of nothing more or nothing less than possibility.
ALL THE RUMORS ARE TRUE, YEAH
FAKE ASS, FAKE BOOBS, YEAH
Y’ALL BE RUNNIN’ WITH FAKE NEWS, YEAH
CARDI AIN’T POPPIN’, NO, THAT’S A MACHINE (HUH?)
NOBODY LISTEN, THEY BUYIN’ THEM STREAMS
THEY EVEN POST IT ON BLOGS OVERSEAS
AND LIE IN A LANGUAGE I CAN’T EVEN READ
THE FUCK DO THIS MEAN?
Doffing clothing and diving into the warm water of a pool is about as innocent and scandalous as summer gets these days. So much of hype and hoopla and controversy lives solely in the heads and minds of those of us with nothing better to do. I’ve jumped into that wet and messy quagmire, and for quite some time got quite a bit of enjoyment and entertainment out of it. Now I’m just looking for something closer to peace.
But before we go all ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ here, there’s still room for some butt-baring, ass-shaking, booty-bombing extra-ness, the kind of show that once dominated this silly site in ways that now feel more quaint and innocuous than they ever did before. Perhaps the rest of the world finally caught up with my antics, degrading its prim and proper stance and sullying itself in the sort of primal urges that supposedly made sex and nudity such dirty concepts in the first place.
LOOK, I’M A BRONX BITCH WITH SOME POP HITS
USED TO POP OFF WHEN THEY POP SHIT
BUT I’M CALMED DOWN AND I’M LOCKED IN
AND MY RECORDS LIVE IN THE TOP TEN
LIZZO, TEACH ME ABOUT BIG GIRL COOCHIE
LAST TIME I GOT FREAKY THE FCC SUED ME
BUT I’MA KEEP DOIN’ WHAT I WANNA DO
‘CAUSE ALL RUMORS ARE TRUE, YEAH
And so, we celebrate the body in all its wondrous forms and manifestations. We celebrate creativity and self-expression in all of their messy and mistake-laden turns. We celebrate the love and the kindness and the fun that make living in this world halfway bearable. Far too often, I’ve lost sight of that, allowing myself to be pulled down into the whirlpools of self-doubt and nagging insecurity, into the dim hollowed-out places where the echoes of vicious whispers are given life only through my own imaginings. We are our own worst enemies, when there are real ones enough out there, ready to believe the worst they can conjure about you – especially when it’s never really about you in the first place. I fell prey to such projection in the past, but no more.
On the verge of another birthday – my 46th if you can wrap your head around such a round juicy number – I slip into my birthday suit, dive into the water, make a splash, and laugh hysterically when I break the surface.
WHY YOU SPENDING ALL YOUR TIME TRYNA BREAK A WOMAN DOWN
REALER SHIT IS GOIN’ ON BABY, TAKE A LOOK AROUND
IF YOU THAT THAT I WAS RATCHET WITH MY ASS HANGIN’ OUT
JUST WAIT UNTIL THE SUMMER WHEN THEY LET ME OUT THE HOUSE, BITCH
Having already been named a Hunk of the Day here at such a young age, there was time for Billy Gilman to stage a second act – sure to be one of many for someone whose talent has grown and evolved over time. Today he earns the Dazzler of the Day crown thanks to his dazzling song ‘Soldier’ which is the latest highlight of his career. See his website for more evidence of his brilliance.
Sit with me, if you will, in the almost-silence of the moment, a moment about to be broken ever so gently by this Air, given a revision by the Klazz Brothers and Cuba Percussion – a companion piece to go with this song, another song of meditation in a world of murderers and car crashes and chases that end the only way any chase can really end.
Come, join me in the attic loft, where it is peaceful, and perfectly removed from the world below. The light, though only from a small window, and that blocked largely by a rickety air conditioning unit, magnifies itself in the pale white walls and floor, in the cream rug, and the beige chair. It is a place of tranquility, a place to be gentle with oneself, a place in which to listen – to the wind, to the rain, to the air, and to the music.
It is a place of comfort, with its calming palette of monochromatic, non-striking colors – all whites and creams and beiges – and a small collection of fragrances, most fittingly from Jo Malone – the beige version of scent. There is tea for you, too, however you like it. In my cup, it’s a simple, unamended hibiscus and elderberry herbal variety – something that works for mid to late summer, when the nights are getting cooler. Nature waits for no one, pausing for no wish to delay the sunny season. Still, I am finding peace with that too, in the way it so invariably happens, ticking away with steady advancement.
This Air is like that too, offering a steady and delicately pulsating piano accompaniment to the hands of the clock – the hands of time. Dive into the moment. Pause here.
When this song first came across the radio waves as part of the sequel to ‘Beverly Hills Cop’ I was roughly the age that my nephew Noah is now. I got to spend some quality time with him when I was staying with my Dad, and it’s fun to see how much – and how little – has changed in the lives of kids now compared to my hey-day in the 80’s. My brother and I tried to explain how far we used to ride our bikes back then – the trips to creeks across town, the roaming bands of boys traversing all of Amsterdam no matter how hot the day. The lives of boys in the summer are filled with more than anyone really realizes.
No matter how the race is run it always ends the same
Another room without a view awaits downtown
You can shake me for a while
Live it up in style
No matter what you do I’m gonna take you down
While our main concerns seemed to be which route to take to get home quickest when we suddenly noticed the day waning, there were burgeoning worries that befuddled the mind, even in the freedom of summer. Even the sunniest day went to sleep eventually, and summer nights, without the bright blanket of snow to reflect any light, could be especially dark. In one’s youth, that dramatic hint of darkness was more of a thrill than a concern, and more often than not we found ourselves in bed before the real dark of night ever arrived. There’s a brutal lesson in patience to be gleaned from going to bed when the sun is still illuminating the sky.
Shakedown, Breakdown, Takedown
Everybody wants into the crowded line
Breakdown, Takedown, You’re busted
Let down your guard
Honey, just about the time you’re thinkin’ it’s alright
Breakdown, Takedown, You’re busted
As I watched Noah ride his bike, toss a ball with his Dad, or jump into the pool, I was reminded of the innocence of this moment, how every minute can feel exciting and hopeful, and the next turn to dependency and despair – all over the smallest and insignificant of things – but when you’re a kid everything matters. Everything is important. Maybe that’s the big fallacy of becoming an adult – we suddenly forget about what it was like when every single thing truly mattered.
We also lose our sense of adventure unless we keep nurturing it. The sort of summer movie escapism that characterized my childhood – even if it was only in my imagination – is rekindled mostly through things like writing this entry or remembering the chases of our youth with emboldened urgency and drama. There was never anyone really chasing us, but we felt the whole world biting at our heels and sped away because of it.
This is a town where everyone is reachin’ for the top
This is a place where second best will never do
It’s okay to want to shine
But once you step across that line
No matter where you hide I’m comin’ after you
My niece and nephew are right in that moment, when childhood is cresting and young adulthood is right around the corner. More than any other generation perhaps, they are in a race against time – a shakedown of epic proportion that is probably quite unfair to them, but which we – the adults – have set up for them to fail. If they keep to what’s right, if they stay true to what’s good, they may stand a chance. I’m just not sure it will even matter. That’s the cynical adult in me being brutally honest. I’d rather go back to the eleven-year-old I was, dancing and grooving to ‘Shakedown’ and imagining and enacting all sorts of crazy adventures before I had to grow up.
Shakedown, Breakdown, Takedown
Everybody wants into the crowded line
Breakdown, Takedown, You’re busted
Let down your guard
Honey, just about the time you’re thinkin’ it’s alright
Breakdown, Takedown, You’re busted
