Working, Sort Of, If That Is What You Want To Call It.

Today is a big day, here at Life Explained. Today, we had two pieces of writing appear online.

My monthly column on The Wild Word (the mostly appropriately named, Head Above Water, sometimes I sink, a little further than comfortable) about the mysterious journey of being married. Or at least the mysterious journey of my marriage. I hope my wife appreciates her good fortune. Kids, don't try this at home, it is not for the meek, mild or irresolute. Well, thinking about this writer, yes, I guess it is.



And, a piece on on the Open Thought Vortex Magazine, describing my less than stellar history with guns. Having been on both sides of the issue I am am resolutely unconvinced of their glorious utility. I have heard all the arguments, and remain opposed to the unrestricted, irresponsible arming of America.

Despite my best efforts to predict the future I have no way of knowing what will happen to Tim Clark the writer, but you will see it here. Stay tuned.

And since it is Friday, let's end the day with some Rock and Roll.

The Sea is a Harsh Mistress

A lot of people don't know I am whimsical, and easily distracted. It has always been a curse. I get lost in things. Normally it only bothers the people who expect me to do something, I am usually pretty happy. It does not take a lot to start an "episode," almost anything will do.

Yesterday +Jeremy Crow  and the Quote Whacko featured the wisdom of Lou Reed, a legendary rocker. Lou Reed was a shining star to many, and the quote took me back in time. On the drive from work to the gym I listened to White Light, White Heat, and Heroin, then whatever came on, which is smarter than getting in an accident going 60 miles an hour.

And I remembered a movie from the 80s with Lou Reed playing an aging rock star (go figure). I don't remember too much about the movie, but it involved a lot of rapidly escalating, ridiculous predicaments, and a lot of people smoking a lot of pot.* Lou Reed was trying to write one last hit song using anything that happened as fodder for the lyrics.

When a limo was taking Lou Reed somewhere, something absurd happened and the driver and front seat passenger started screaming "We're all going to die!" And Lou Reed started strumming his guitar in the back seat and started singing softly "we're all gonna die, we're all gonna die." I started laughing driving down the freeway, that scene still kills me. It is the only part of the movie that I remember well. And I thought, 'the Quote Whacko can be pretty cool.'

After lifting I went to do cardio. Last night it was the rowing machine I cranked the resistance to high. Visual imagery is an important component in the successful use of cardio equipment, otherwise it is a boring slog of painful repetition. Last night I decided to row around Ellis Island, and what the heck I would listen to the Velvet Underground classic Rock and Roll while doing it. On my phone is the live version from Lou Reed Rock and Roll Animal. A great song, wonderful tempo, and fantastic guitar. But, it is about two hours long.**

When they hit the bass solo I had been around Ellis Island several times, left the Upper Bay and was out past Montauk. When the guitar and drums kicked in to signal the end of the solo I was halfway to Europe, my arms, legs and back were cramping, and my lungs were starting the self destruct sequence. There was too much pain to reach the resistance knob and turn it down.

On and on I went, into the darkness, engulfed by agony, no end in sight, "round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perditions flames" and I saw a white light, it called to me, and I had to strap myself to the mast to resist the temptation. And I cursed the Quote Whacko, and the hate drove me. ***

But, I made it, and today limp is hardly noticeable. And I have found it in my heart to forgive the Quote Whacko. And there was much rejoicing.




* Though that might have been me.

** Not really, but it is long.

*** Please accept my apologies for the abuse of reference and metaphor in this paragraph, but I need to wrap this up.

Aliens, Predators, Elected Officials, and Rock and Roll.

Recently I was watching Predator with my son.  I think it was the first time he had seen this modern classic.  My sister loaned him Alien vs. Predator when he was young and it had a profound affect on him.  He wanted to be a Predator when he grew up.

He asked me, after watching the aliens battle the predator, which I thought was better.  I told him the aliens were obviously better, they only killed as a method of advancing the species.  True, they were monstrous, destructive, salivating nightmares, but it was a biological imperative that drove them to their behavior.  While the predator killed because he could, just for fun.

Being a child he was not impressed by Darwinian reasoning.  He was impressed by the extravagant, sophisticated weaponry that the predator carried.  When I explained to him that despite bristling with an advanced, technical armory the predator could defeat neither Arnold Schwarzenegger, (Should I call him Governor Schwarzenegger) nor Danny Glover (though, in all fairness he did manage to kill Gary Busey, pre-accident version, but so did Mel Gibson), he was unmoved.

But, that is not what I am here to talk about today.  I am here to discuss the real star of the first Predator movie.  Little Richard.  When the helicopter was flying low, through the jungle, and Jesse Ventura, (should I call him Governor Ventura?) was rocking out with "Long Tall Sally" you knew the movie deserved some sort of award.  Maybe, best Jungle Helicopter Flight Soundtrack.

So, I toast the Alien, the Predator, the Governors, but mostly you, Little Richard, you are a rock and roller in the finest sense of the word.  By the way, you can get the "Very Best of Little Richard" on Amazon.com for only $5.99.

Here you go, dig it, daddy.

Even the Predator loves Little Richard.

Finally some good news.

Today, I took the plunge and bought the new Del Lords album, "Elvis Club."  Sometime in the late 1980's I bought "Johnny Comes Marching Home."  A powerful collection of hopeful despair, and joyful bitterness, for my confused state, and aimless existence at the time it was tonic for a troubled soul.  One song would leave you believing there were better days ahead, and the next would lead you into a dark night of dying love and depression.  And I was hooked.

It was terrible news when they broke up.  It really made me sad.  But, then I read they were re-uniting, and I started following them, on Facebook, it was like finding a lost friend, and I have to say, they were very engaging, and forthcoming on their wall, conversing with fans, and updating progress.  It was so refreshing.

Then the album was released, and I was hesitant to make the purchase.  What if it wasn't a good as hoped, what if age had mellowed the band.  I listened several times, and it was great.


So, today I bought the album.  And it is fantastic.  It was a long time coming, and it will be on all the way home from work tonight.  And I will "play it loud enough to hear it for miles and miles."

Thank you, Del Lords, you guys really rock!  If you decide to release another album that might not be a bad idea.