All The Money In The World

Missed opportunities? Dying young? Nose to some grindstone?  

From the outside it was dark. Threatening to most parents. My single mom brought me Little Richard records. She took me to see my heroes. I should mention that most of them were colored. I should mention, too, that most of them are still my heroes.

They called it rock'n'roll. It was love.

Of course it was appropriated by "business men." I just call them crooks. I'm including Alan Freed who claimed to the end that he had coined the term, rock'n'roll. If you believe that I've got a Pat Boone 45 to sell you. Prime the pump, indeed. I remember Mr. Freed's Top Ten Rock'n'Roller list for 1956. Seemed odd to me that Elvis wasn't on the list. Still seems odd.

Don't get me started about DICK Clark!

We're divided again and it's scary out there. We're losing heroes but we've got replacements coming. Come on, rock'n'roll, save us again.

Paper Cuts and Auto Parts

Something in the ether recharges my cosmic batteries from time to time and I'm whole again. Younger than before. A force wakes me up from mundane dreams and I'm on fire. Passion takes over with no hint of negativity and I'm new.

It would be nice if it didn't come at 1:30 in the morning but I'll take it when I can get it.

Friends die. Heroes die. I mourn rock'n'roll. 

Fate awakens me to remind me that the reports of rock'n'roll's death are greatly exaggerated. Rock'n'roll has to stand for something, stand up to something. What would Superman have been without villains plotting evil? You can't do battle in tights for truth and justice without bad guys to destroy.

Maybe I never get gold records. Or the girl.

As long as Moriarty dabbles in radio, sabotages elections, invests in arms manufacturing and runs the NRA- I've got my work cut out for me. Wake up. Love. Harder.

                                       

One Of Those Kids In One Of Those Bands

Boy, howdy, I'm one lucky hick. Some stars live only a few million years. We're pretty sure that some  of the "big" ones last for ten billion. Lately the sky seems to be full of them around here. I feel good about it. Seems like I didn't see many for a long, long time. Knowing that we're made of their dust, it's reassuring to have them around. Of course we all know that most of the ones that we see actually burned out and died long ago.

Elvis died when he was forty two. Marilyn was thirty six when we lost her. Lottie was closing in on a hundred when her big old heart gave up.

I've not accumulated much and I've achieved almost nothing. I'm leaving no Elliotts. My good, true fortune, I suppose, is that I've lived long enough to see how easy kindness comes. Love requires no effort.

Dogs In Pants

Protect your joy any way that you can. That's really about all the advice that I have for you. Sometimes I feel small and insignificant blathering on about love like some Sunday school teacher boring the bejesus out of a bunch that came here for fun.

Of course I feel a little better about it when I poke around and I'm reminded that Tolstoy and Einstein and John Lennon did pretty much the same thing. 

Oh, I've got a purpose in life. It just happens to be the same one that you have. My tool box is spare. I'll march and I'll protest and I'll play my music for a cause. Mostly I'll just love.

Memory Overload

Received a cosmic message that I have exceeded my memory bank capacity and that I need to delete some in order to carry on with life. If I have ever loved you madly and it has been worth nothing or less to you, please cut and paste the following and send it to either my e-mail address, ronnyelliottusa@gmail.com, or directly to my beat up, worn out heart.

Please leave me alone. What is wrong with you? Geez!*

I will post a notice here when I have emptied out enough space to carry on with a fun-filled, carefree existence. Be grateful that there are no songs on the radio to make you cringe. It's the little things.

* Does not apply to ex-wives. Work has taken place to expunge them.

Play A Sad Waltz

Sometimes I struggle to make sure that I end up with more joyful memories than sad ones. Of course there are those days that tip the scales profoundly. I don't want to end up a hurtful memory for anyone else. Probably should have thought of that sooner.

Working on your great novel? A hit record? Your masters' thesis?

Well, sir, you've got winning, losing and loving. Take your time. Take your pick.

Toast

It all depends on which end of the telescope you peer into, I suppose. What I call love, other folks deride. Who invented guns? Why? Can anyone explain to me why war is legal?

Freedom, I understand, has a price. It shouldn't be others' freedom.

Our "leaders" don't lead.