Monday, July 10, 2017

very weird vibe


interested in/fascinated by

how people express their thoughts and ideas and memories:  I guess that's why I like to read Internet Comments and Reader Comments.  It gives insight into how people think.  (And how some of them spell, yikes....)  It helps me to see stuff, and imagine things....

Something I noticed before I'd ever had much exposure to the Internet is that, starting this century, more people started using fantastically vulgar language more often.  I don't know why, but I noticed it in movies, TV shows, and TV shows on cable, and also in real life.

Sometimes I think Oh, they shouldn't say that; there are other ways to express that thought without the curse word or vulgarism (?)...  Then I think, No, we support free expression, we don't support censorship.  Then I think, Seriously?  all the time?  Every other word??

Then I think, If I'm trying to be a writer, then I have to have all the words.  ...Mustn't shy away (murmurs to self while shying away...)

I read somewhere that "the f-word" is Anglo-Saxon in its origin.

My people?  My people came up with that?  ("My people" -- lol...)

Then there's the reversing of meanings:  I remember in the seventies for a while if something was good, some people would say, "Oh, it's bad!"  (Meaning it's terrific.) 

Now, it seems the expression is "badass."  Must we add the word "ass" onto -- many other words?  Well, apparently we must -- one day a young lady came into my office and started talking about the new job she hoped to move into (in manufacturing), and she stated with confidence, "I'm a good-ass worker."

People should start putting that on their résumés....

In today's styles of speech, some people use the traditional Anglo-Saxon adverb to describe things they don't like, and some people use it to describe what they really strongly do like.

On You Tube, I was looking for various different recordings of "Ode to Billy Joe" and I found one that's recorded from the original single.

(If you want to find it, it has this picture

and the title of the post reads, "Bobbie Gentry, 1967:  Ode To Billie Joe -- original Capitol 45 rpm Disc.")

So then where there are Comments, people start expressing their enthusiasm for "vinyl" -- now that music is digital, there's a contingent of aficionados who only prefer vinyl.  Is that an affectation, or do you think it's a real thing?

Anyway, the first three Comments run:

Whipsters Idle ----------- Fucking vinyl.  Sounds awesome.

Ron Schalow ---------- What kind of vinyl again?  Intercourse vinyl?

bill carson ---------- Bangin vinyl!


Ken Seabury ------------ First time I heard this was on an AM radio as a seven-year-old back in 1967.  Brings back a lot of memories!  Blows my mind that this was 49 years ago!

Nicholas A. ----------- good music is timeless    ☺

clarkewi --------- The "Summer of Love".  I was in Connecticut and this song dominated the NYC radio stations.  Put a very weird vibe on that summer '67.  Then late in the summer Jimi Hendrix exploded on the scene with "Are You Experienced???"  Incredible times that really haven't ended yet.

William Jones ----------- I still have the 45 record in my collection.  Great haunting melody.


I like that set of Comments.  A country song from a Mississippi-accented artist "dominating" the New York City radio stations.

"Put a very weird vibe on that summer '67." 

It's as if a door is opened to imagination and experiences and adventures.

When I take Comments or Reader Comments and put them on here, I take the ones I think people might like or get something from, or laugh at...  There are many, many Comments which I do not type here.  I think that's called "curating" -- Curated comments are made available ...


Reading Bob Dylan's book Chronicles, I am often struck by the feeling of how quintessentially American his life is.

-------------- [excerpt] --------

Chapter 5
River of Ice

The moon was rising behind the Chrysler Building, it was late in the day, street lighting coming on, the low rumble of heavy cars inching along in the narrow streets below -- sleet tapping against the office window. 

Lou Levy was starting and stopping his big tape machine -- diamond ring gleaming off his pinky finger -- cigar smoke hanging in the blue air.  The place was like a room used for interrogation, a fixture like a fruit bowl hanging overhead and a couple of lamps, some brass ones on floor stands.  Below my feet a patterned wood floor. 

It was a drab room and cluttered with trade magazines -- Cashbox, Billboard, radio survey charts -- an ancient filing cabinet in the corner.  Besides Lou's old metal desk, there were a couple of wood chairs and I sat forward in one of them strumming songs off the guitar.

Recently I had called home.  I did that at least a couple of times a month from one of the many public pay phones around town.  The phone booths were like sanctuaries, step inside of them, shut the accordion type doors and you locked yourself into a private world free of dirt, the noise of the city blocked out. 

The phone booths were private, but the lines back home weren't. 

Back there every household had a party line.  About eight or ten different houses all used the same line, only with different numbers.  If you'd pick up the phone receiver, seldom would the line ever be clear.  There were always other voices.  Nobody ever said anything important over the phone and you didn't ramble on long.  If you wanted to talk to people, you'd usually talk to them in the street, in vacant lots, fields or in cafes, never on the phone.

---------------- [end, excerpt] ----------------

In this part of Chronicles, Dylan is  talking about his early days in NYC, in the early 1960s.

When he calls home and there's a party line -- "home" is Hibbing, Minnesota, up on the Iron Range.



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