indistinct verses

[gurdonark]

"Fletcher Honorama won't you rally 'round the man who's on a limb? Sing the songs that please him very softly while we jolt him with a hymn"
--Ron Mael

Now they even have websites for misheard song lyrics. Should I be comforted that some teen thought it was "in Bernie's van they lube the governor?" during "Sweet Home Alabama"? I am not sure. If I were a song lyric, I think I'd be a Cocteau Twins song, because I would be so very versatile. I would only mean what I want to mean. But aren't we all misheard lyrics, somehow?



I notice lately that I love the feel of lyrics even when I don't really know the words. I loved Santana's "Tunnel of Love" last year, but then I read the lyrics, and they did not work for me at all. Perhaps REM had the right idea back in the day when they mixed their lyrics ncomprehensibly. I'd go see them in concert roughly once a year (let's say from Reckoning for roughly three or four albums thereafter). The lyrics changed to key songs from year to year, which I thought was really cool. Now I can hear every word Michael Stipe says, and it's not the same.

I like the notion of continual revelation, like the Latter Day Saints have. One has a wrong notion, and then wham! The right inspiration sets in. It's not just a good idea--it's divine.

I love that feeling when a light bulb goes off in my head, and things come together and I see an idea with clarity. But isn't it curious to see someone one knows have the light bulb go off, and FLASH!, they've gotten completely the wrong insight about one? I suppose that's why I'm so wordy, because I always liked that song "oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood".

I remember the fellow in law school who set me up on a blind date. He thought his former student and I would be perfect for each other. She was a nice person, but somehow when I saw who he thought would be "perfect", I realized that this fellow I thought considered me a social equal actually thought me much less socially apt than even I thought myself. I'll not elaborate, as it seems ungentlepersonly, but I suddenly saw myself through my classmate's eyes, and I was, well, rather less impressive than I thought he thought me. A nice comeuppance, that was, and yet the person he fixed me up with was pleasant enough.

Blind dates--I did not do many of those. As an acquired taste, I never counted on such things as a way to make my bold mark in the great social tree. Now that I think about it, my initials have never been carved in wood.

I won a pizza once, in single days, for "Ad of the Week" in the Dallas Observer (local alt. paper) personal ad competition. I never picked up the pizza. How could I? "hi. I'm the guy with the weird personal ad which won "Ad of the Week!. I was too shy! The ad began "Down to earth erstwhile Christian surrealist seeks semi-cute paragon for mutual absurdity and fidelity". The ad did win a pizza. But it got no replies. Semi-cute paragons are in short supply. A more sedate ad drew more responses.

Maybe dating is the hallmark of misunderstanding. I can't say, because I rarely dated people that I had no already established some baseline bond with to begin with. But isn't it incredible how a casual stranger on a date can completely misread one? But it's not always that way.

Understanding is sometimes like the three day measles. What is it about those "I know you somehow" conversations. I do not believe in psychic connections, at least not in the new age senses, but I do remember being 22, and communicating utterly with a Canadian woman who went to community college with my roommate's soon-to-be-second wife. Nothing intimate, of course--it was a first meeting. But that sense, for one evening, of being understood. Perhaps there are pheronomes that say "We have met". She had a boyfriend, as I recall, who became her husband eventually. It was a meaningless evening, perhaps. I have not forgotten it. But was I understood? It felt that way, but perhaps that's just infatuation flypaper. I love the idea that infatuation, like a flea bite, strikes quickly, imparts all the wisdom of the world, and then departs. The whole thing is that it's so darn infectious.

Sometimes a teacher or professor just doesn't get one at all. Labels--an essential part of education. One is no longer a person--one is an attitude problem, or even an underachiever. I was usually in good shape with teacher, but I was rarely the pet--more like the loyal opposition. For every Rome, filled with lovers, there must be a Zurich, filled with correct business relationships. My goal in school was not to romance those stones who taught me, but only to figure out a way to learn and get a good grade while having a good experience.

It's rather like the job I didn't get as a safety engineer once. The boss guy passed to the word to the employment guy that I was "too technical". I had told him I liked sci fi and Doris Lessing. If only I'd panicked,and said Stephen King; or maybe made a better grade in Calculus 3, to at least earn my ignominy. If I am to be a "science nerd" type, as one woman in law school said, why am I so weak at advanced math?

But I'm rambling all over the lot, and not making myself better understood. Maybe I'm like that band Magma, that invented its own language. It takes time to communicate, when nobody speaks the language but its inventor. But I wish more people would assume it's something cool like French I'm saying, and not just pig latin.

Comments

[poetbear.livejournal.com]

many song lyrics have been misunderstood
over the years by many many people. there
are several books and websites devoted to the
subject. that's part of the reason that i have
always been fanatic about reading the lyrics
(if they are there)when i first listen to an
album. quite a few songwriter/singers have
changed many of their songs over the years,too.
listen to Bob Dylan's recordings on the English
tour and the 'bootleg' recordings for good examples.
i think we're all constantly trying to re-write our
song. at least those of us who haven't completely ossified.
somehow, your not-as-rambling-as-you-think posts seem
to illustrate that idea for me. I love the idea that infatuation, like a flea bite, strikes quickly, imparts all the wisdom of the world, and then departs. The whole thing is that it's so darn infectious. i love that sentence.
~paul

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

Yes, I like that image--bent over the piano, constantly re writing the song! Or maybe, more like a jazz improvisation, except that if I have to think whether it's jazz, I may not have it :).

[poetbear.livejournal.com]

i think of it a sometimes jazz
sometimes blues
sometimes rock and roll!
~paul

[nickelchief.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed this post and the unique language it's written in.

Tom Stoppard wrote a short play called "Dogg's Hamlet" which is played out partially in a made-up language called "Dogg." Dogg is comprised of English words which signify something other than their English meaning -- e.g. "sun, dock, trog" is "one, two, three" and "cretinous pig-faced git?" is "do you have the correct time?" (The speakers of Dogg then go on to do Hamlet in 15 minutes, equipped with only a cursory understanding of its English text. I think you'd like it if you can rassle up a copy.)

Part of the fun of watching that play is that you get to learn the language as it's being played, and it becomes clear without too much practice that "afternoon, squire!" is a raw insult. So perhaps your audience is learning Gurdonarkian as we go along, getting better at it the more we read, learning to read and enjoy your (in)distinct verses.

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

I haven't read that Stoppard, but I always like R & G are Dead, which does so many fun things with Godot and yet is very much its own thing. Of course, the non-sequitur is that anyone who can write such intriguing stuff and get to be with Felicity Kendall cannot be all bad, but that's probably politically incorrect for me to say :).

[soakedinsin.livejournal.com]

I don't have any truly introspective comment, I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed this post. :)

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

Thanks for commenting. I've been following the numerous developments in your journal quite closely. Interesting reading, interesting times.

[withfire.livejournal.com]

It takes time to communicate, when nobody speaks the language but its inventor. But I wish more people would assume it's something cool like French I'm saying, and not just pig latin.

heh, exactly.

great post. i always find it oddly exciting when someone bothers to articulate something that i've pretty much gone along thinking.

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

Thanks for commenting. I would say that in French, but my French runs out at "one croissant, if you please" and "where is the hotel?".

:)