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Humid homophones

Topics: nostalgia, boc

2012-07-25

Blue Öyster Cult* is the music for the evening, though I shall run out of albums at some point. As I wrote to Tony earlier, I do wish I had *Fire of Unknown Origin*. I suppose I should do as I did years ago with *The Church* (and can be read in this particular journal of mine), and write about each memory each song contains for me. As *Searching for Celine* just finished from *Spectres*, it may be a problem.

I say a problem because there are dizzying memories from mostly High School which these songs bring back. They are vague and ultimately unreachable in a form which is tangible.

I do recall *Todd Templeton* (see Facebook) and his friend whose name I do not recall blasting *Godzilla* from their **TRUCK** outside of Fort Stockton High School after school one day. See, I'd loaned Todd *Spectres*. The funny thing (to me, anyway) is the fact that the **cassette** I had given him was damaged. *Damaged?* you ask? Well, my old stereo system had deleted the first 20 or so seconds of the first song (*Godzilla*), so, it came crashing in after Buck Dharma was already wreaking havoc with the gueetar.

Fireworks* is ending at this moment. Perhaps it reminds me of Brandi and our excursions about the town, or maybe about *David*, who shared much of my musical taste at the time. I'll listen to it once again.

Most probably, this song should remind me of the endless hours I spent in my room in Fort Stockton (105 S. Everts, if you need know) listening to music. I had most of these albums on LP. The happiness this song exudes is rather disconcerting considering most of the band's output. The lyrical content, about banishing tradition in the light of immediate needs, I can relate to. It was the antithesis of what I was taught as I was growing up in the hellish atmosphere which **was** (and probably still **is**) Fort Stockton. On the other hand, it is a lascivious tale of a man manipulating a woman into sex by some other-worldly spiritual means. Albert Bouchard was a fuckup. Possibly he still is. My kind of fuckup, though.

R U Ready To Rock* used photetic letterabilities to represent words long before Prince did, and for sure the trend to use such in our ubiquitous text messages (a practise I eschew). For some reason, this song is supposed to be a part of the third cycle in *Imaginos*. I can only take the lyric *I only live to be born again* to make any sense in the context. One day (soon), I shall put together the whole three cycles and listen happily whilst intoxicated on something. Perhaps then I'll be enlightened to Sandy Pearlman's young idea which was spread through a multitude of songs.

Enough for now, veverko.

tzifur (Martenblog home)

jenju (Thurk.Org home)

@flavigula@sonomu.club

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