“If you wanna make it country, baby, that’s ok, cause I was born, I was born, I was born this way.”
Our cowboy foray into the country-western vibe finds some pop culture resonance in this countrified version of Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’. I remember when this came out initially as part of the track’s original release – at the time I was puzzled by it, but I didn’t hate it. All these years later, I’m finding even greater appreciation for it, particularly during this fall of the cowboy. It’s also a fun excursion from the more serious expositions that may be in store – when you have a moment for fun and enjoyment, you better be damn well take it. Especially on a Friday.
Driving, windows wide open, music fighting with wind, shadows fighting with sunlight – the day recalls the summer, the way some warm and humid fall days keep you guessing which way time is traveling: a mirror of spring, with the staleness of decay in the air the only tip-off as to which end of the seasonal year we might be nearest.
A cowboy’s journey is based largely on seasons, flying on the wind and the weather, seeking the sun and warmth, seeking some bit of hospitable land and atmosphere – it’s a journey of the moment – the journey of a Friday afternoon with the bulk of the weekend still and always ahead of him. He follows his own path – sometimes it leads to comfort, sometimes it leads to hell – always it leads to wherever he finds himself at the moment. There is not much in the way of planning or preparation, or so it seems. A cowboy is always more prepared than he likes to let on, and often less. The cowboy’s conundrum, with no resolution in sight or desire.
And every time a cowboy seems about to let loose on a Friday, there’s always a sliver of seriousness to his abandon – riding a little too close to the edge, ever-ready to fall even in the midst of all the fun. He burns and kicks and thrashes, not unlike the horse on which he rode into the sunset and away from the day. There will be time to rest later…
