Morning group, I know I near-pleaded to be let out last night, but dawn's crack has brought an inner calmness. Plus I've realized a promise is a promise, so Cynthia, here is an answer.
It all started in a car. A friend's car, actually and thankfully, for I was having perception issues. And maybe I was unlicensed. I remember the night clearly, for it was hardly a clear night. Fog everywhere ... hard to tell where the car began and ended. Harder still knowing where we began and ended. If you haven't been in that space, e-mail me privately and I'll explain. So there we sat, a slow rumbling building in our famished bellies, as my friend popped a cassette into the dash, claiming I 'ought listen to this.' He loved to use the word 'ought', it being so much friendlier than 'should'. I agreed. To listen I mean... So as that maniacal hunger built in me, out of those (foggy) speakers came a voice so pure, so sexy, so enticing, I thought I may have been hallucinating. "Call me when you're loaded" She implored. "My best recipes?" "Cooking after midnight?", "Sitting on her groceries?". Hell, a pretty good cook was all I needed, not some 4 star gourmand. Who was this Muse who spoke to my inner self? It was all I could think about on the way to the Winn Dixie. Was there more? Was it always about food? Well, those were the days. You have your tales as I do mine. That willowy songbird still perches on my shoulder, welcome company through thick and thin. Of course I have my favorites; worn out albums, rebought CD's, songs that never leave, rifts so pervasive I run stop signs. You guys run stop signs, right? But instead, perhaps more insight into Jeff might be gleaned (please remember my initial post mentioned self-absorption, front and center) by a few examples. Lines that define me. Words that shape me. My favorite perhaps, who can really say?, is from that gem Coyote. When She sings about 'wrestling with my eagle', I swoon. Can you just picture that decked out crow wrestling with her lofty eagle? The very same eagle who later battles Her serpent, it's tail feathers now dragging in the dust cause Her crow had beat the hell out of it. This marvelous avian juxtapositioning never fails to make me soar. Of course She has more tricks up Her sleeves. Perhaps more brilliant in it's wordplay is the biting verse from The Windfall. God I hate that guy. When She finally screams "you'd eat your Jung alive for a Jaguar in the drive" I am so far past fit to be tied I can taste his blood. She nails him though, huh. Her Anima 1, JerkyBoy nuthin'. KO in the final round. Though I hesitate to overuse terminology, I beg your forbearance. She juxtaposes like Ali right here. Yin and Yang, She and He, the reality of a well-connected punch in that sniveling little agent's dreamland of a nose. Anything lower than self-cannibalization, friends? I think not. He's a goner. Well, I know you have lives, but let me offer one more example. This one is particularly endearing in it's simplicity. Transcending Her angst, She now looks inward...homeward, if you will. It comes, juxtapositionally, smack in the middle of Shiny Toys, that anthem to materialism. Refer to Line 31 (of 63, but even She's not a miracle worker): "I Love My Porch" croons out. Can you dig it? All these glittering objects around us but She longs for her porch. Her home. Her sanctuary. Is that mature or what? The world spins out of control around Her and She yearns for an anchor, metaphorically presented as a porch. Better than home, better than hearth, truly a refuge of the road. And if I'm not mistaken, her pal James provides that line, as if he's calling her to come on in. The guy that actually wrote Oh Susannah, another anecdote of the power that 'Home' has on us all. C'mon Joni, here is where you belong. My suspenders and pipe, your good dog and some trees, our deep kisses. Is anyone else tearing up? Give me a moment, Jeff _________________________________________________________________ MSN Photos is the easiest way to share and print your photos: http://photos.msn.com/support/worldwide.aspx
