Theme songs for my life

Tonight I was reading some old Usenet posts in alt.callahans, looking at what I’d had to say, what was happening inside me, and such, and I came across the following. I think what I wrote then is still valid and applicable. Sit down and try it someday, for yourself.

Groups: alt.callahans
From: SamIAm
Date: 09/21/1997
Subject: Re: Yet Another NEW Pseudo-AMOT question

In article <5vl1j9$v61@camel2.mindspring.com>, Celine said this about that:
> <drumroll>
> Is there a specific song (or songs) which you considered your “theme
> song(s)” at some particular point in your life, and if so, why?

“Wow . . . the problem is trying to cut it down.  My life has a lot of in-my-skull soundtrack to go with it. Lemmesee . . . .

“Tenth grade, Captain Beefheart, ‘The Dust Blows Forward ’n the Dust Blows Back.’  The name itself says a lot about West Texas in my growing-up days.

“Twelfth grade, Mason Williams, ‘Train Ride in G.’  That was my intro/outro theme for my radio air shifts; it may be one of the best train instrumentals I’ve ever heard, and for a teenaged steam-power freak who was born thirty years too late . . . .

“Freshman year of college, Jefferson Airplane, ‘Somebody to Love.’  I wanted, but didn’t know how to look or to ask.  Same year, The Who, ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again.’  I had my first serious crush on someone, and when it wore off and reaction set in, well . . . .

“Second junior year of college, Dan Hicks, ‘I Scare Myself.’  My family of origin was self-destructing, and I wasn’t anywhere near equipped to cope with it.

“1980, Mose Allison, ‘Your Mind is On Vacation.’ The wilful stupidity of people astounded me, and still does.  Same year, Jefferson Airplane, ‘Wooden Ships.’  I was reeling from the sudden death of my dearest friend, and feeling completely isolated from myself and my life.  I heard the sense of desperation Grace and Marty found in a previously self-indulgent song, and knew it was true to how I felt.

“1982, Paul Simon, ‘Something So Right.’  I proposed to my once-and-current wife and was accepted, and couldn’t believe that I hadn’t screwed up something important yet again.

“1988, Greg Brown, ‘I Don’t Want to Have a Nice Day.’  A chronic major depressive never wants to be compulsively-cheeried at.

“1994, Paul Simon, ‘Graceland.’  The metaphysical, exegetical loop-the-loops you can do with this one . . . pilgrims going to the land of grace, to the state of grace . . . and the first line of the song is one of the most arresting images I’ve ever heard.  ‘The Mississippi Delta was shining like a National guitar….’  I know exactly what color the moonlight was that night, and I can clearly see a landscape that I’ve never been through.  Same year, The King’s Singers, covering Billy Joel’s ‘And So It Goes.’  I got dumped hard; I’d told her ‘you can have this heart to break,’ and she did.”

SamIAm is lost for a moment, looking at something in a parallel existence.  “And that doesn’t even begin to touch the tons of music which I associate with events and people not because of the words, but because of the emotional punch of the music itself and how I felt when I heard it.  That’s a list I’m not sure I could stand to compile; it might bring back too many ghosts.”

John F. Kennedy listened to the orange swimming pool.  Fnord.