On the 400th anniversary of William Shakespeare, I wanted to pay him homage. As is so perfectly befitting, his talent--yes, he himself--is so large, he could not be contained by one page, but rather he spilled over to a second.
I felt like ( no, I truly am not off of my rocker--just imagination, peeps) Shakespeare would say this quote to me, trying to arrest my deep sorrow over the death of Prince. I even momentarily thought of putting a small Prince figure in there who said, "Shakespeare, you are one insightful, intelligent, sexy motherfucker!" I couldn't bring myself to do it, though.
Saturday Night Live dedicated their entire show to Prince tonight--so classy of them. It was great, and then I felt just incredibly sad. You see, I read that he was cremated today, and suddenly it seemed like he had died all over again. Seeing him singing with his sexy swagger, his virtuosity of that guitar, and thinking that his body no longer existed on this planet and he would never put on another performance like that, well, I felt my heart breaking like an egg hit hard against the side of a bowl.
Thirty thousand years ago when I was a freshman in college, I had a crush on a guy I nicknamed, "Big Eyes." (I had a crush on another I dubbed "Fish Eyes"). Large blue eyes, jet black hair, pale skin from the South Side of Chicago, he had just the Irish/Italian bad boy look I loved. He was a cross between Aidan Quinn and Ray Liotta.
Aidan Quinn in "Reckless"
Ray Liotta in "Something Wild"
Hmm. Looking at these pics, now, he definitely was on the rougher, Ray Liotta side of things.
Anyway, second semester, the weather finally broke out like it is right now--SPRING--sunny, warm, breezy. Our entire dorm was outside hanging, sitting in the grass--some people, like me, playing frisbee. Suddenly, from a student's open window stuffed full with speakers from their stereo, came the first 4-second strain of the Clash's, "Should I Stay or Should I Go." Well, if you're familiar with that song, it just takes that long to pull you in. Not just pull, but GRAB mercilessly.
Now, here's when I jumped down the rabbit hole of love. Big Eyes yelled out right after those crucial unforgettable chords, "Turn up the fucking music!" Ohhhhh, that did it for me. First, because I didn't use "cuss" words, and he did (bad); and second, because he loved the song and I did, too; and third, it was spring, it was a great song, he used the "f" word, he looked cool smoking, and he was a gorgeous bad boy--ooh, SUPER BAD! FATE! Oh, no wonder we make mistakes when we're young!
Here's a college-age me with a guy that looked like Big Eyes--geez, guess I always gravitated towards these dudes. (And why do we look like we're wearing super big shirts?!)
Last night, "Saturday Night Live" had this hilarious segment from "A History of Punk Music." It was a punk music salute to Margaret Thatcher with the ever fabulous Fred Armisen ("Portlandia") as the lead singer of "Ian Rubbish and the Bizarros." Well, this clip (combined with thewarm, breezy spring day) is what prompted this whole journey down punk/Clash memory lane with Big Eyes!
And here's the original Clash dirty diamond! Turn it up first people!
Watch out also for the middle of song, from 1:28 to 1:31 where they are speeding and building it up, and then they stop with that solo drum hit. Love it! Geez, am I the only one that gets off on music like this? I know there's more like me out there!
