Monday, February 02, 2009

Once upon a time you dressed so fine

You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you

Ok. .I was all set to do a blog about direction… Fascinating word. Was gonna talk about us single-ites, and how our direction is controlled by each “maybe” that happens… The conductor of the orchestra - and wondering if, in his/her private life, they too controlled the symphony there… A child, young adult, with no direction… The wind.. We all know how piercing it can be from the North… Pleasant, but sometimes annoying from the South…

You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

This song appears to be about someone how “had it”, then allofasudden, lost it. Seen the type. A “way up there” point in employment - only to find it crashing down. (Pride is hard to swallow, but it will go down.).. Doing the online thing, I see it all too frequently in women (just shoot me) who’ve lived the good life (and I am THE biggest critic of equal pay) but now find themselves with no job skills/yet with the yearn/want to “continue to live the good life.”

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

And………. I think this song speaks to aging… We all traverse life as if we’re indestructible. We’ll forever be “in”. Envied. Vibrant. Adored. Emulated. Aging has a harsh way of changing that. Move over old-timer, get the hell outta the fast lane, you’re going five MPH under the speed limit.

You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it

We can’t wait for 21. Raising kids, we do the crap over again we gotta do as kids. Forty, eh, the mirror still looks pretty damn good. 50 hits. WHAT? You say “thanks for the interview… we’ve got s’more apps to go over”.. I know bullshit when I hear it. BUT I AM SOMEBODY!

You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

We plan like hell for our 20’s, 30’s, 40’s… Ok, a few of you saps do it right and have four retirements, a bigass 401K, house paid for.. And it’s right, REAL right. Not the vast majority. Most men, however, can’t think past the (close your ears) end of their pecker - and most women just wanna spend - and while the gettin’s good, they get.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Perhaps a life jolt such as “no direction home” could be a good thing. Maybe home has been a facade. Maybe it’s caused us to miss out on what really is important in life. Thanks to GD digital cameras and 100 watt light bulbs - we ‘get there’ - and we hate it. THIS IS NOT ME. I’M FRIGGIN YOUTHFUL. YEAH, I KNOW, I SEE ME, BUT THAT’S NOT ME. I’M STILL A PUP!… and we’re left with a brain that thinks young, and protests reality.

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you

Mebbe, just mebbe, we coulda been nicer along the way to “underlings”… Not all of us for sure, but mebbe some of us…

You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.

We look up, our bosses are 20-something. 30-something. WAIT. AIN’T RIGHT. Sorry. The way it is. YEAH BUT THERE’S A LOTTA GOOD LEFT IN ME. We know, you follow direction well, in spitea “no direction home”….


How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Rolling stone. Outta control, and every GD bump hurts a little bit more….

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe

All things precious come undone. The Armani suits.. The evening gowns.. The ‘96 Benz.. Outta style.. Seeya later. You WERE good. Even the neighborhood is starting to fall apart…

You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

Have we trounced those along the way? Cruel to elders that were in our boat now?… Take youth lightly? “What do they know?”… It’s time we were all grabbed forcefully by the collars…

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Bottom line. What’s important? Last time I looked, there wasn’t room in a casket for the Benz, the 3-car garage… you only get to choose one outfit from that walk-in closet..

I think some… not all…. But some… go thru life with blinders… oblivious to everyday ‘good’. We’re centered, horribly so. We thinka ourself when thinking of someone else is so much more rewarding.

Frienda mine today, coworker. She, 40-something. Another coworker (20-something) tragically lost her mother in a car wreck last week. 40-something friend takes 20-something friend out to lunch her first day back from bereavement… One, I wouldn’t have the courage… Two, what do you say? God Blessya TWB. You get it. Direction known.

Please don’t allow this blog to get u down. (I mean hell, who can’t love Bob Dylan from back in the days when you could actually understand his words?)… It’s just that sometimes WE ALL, get off center. Lose focus.. Go like 60 in the wrong direction.

Like a complete unknown. Like a rolling stone.

Quoting Porky… a-dee-a-deee-a-deee-daaaaahts-daaaaahts all folks! Love, Victurd.

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