Alive With the Glory of Love and the Genius of Max Bemis

Today has been a shit day. I’m in a drug haze, in pain and exhausted. I can’t even put my thoughts together to write a love story. I have one noodling in my silly brain, but the words won’t come.

At work while I was sitting there staring at my gigantic monitors and getting nothing done, I decided that I needed to listen to a little Say Anything. Max Bemis’s lyrics bring me up or down. Depends on the song that comes up on my play list on Spotify. Imagine my joy when I heard the first line of the song,  Alive with the Glory of Love. The lyrics are simple, but they capture my soul and make me lose my breath.

He sings, When I watch you, wanna do you, right where you’re standing. Yes, it’s sexy and sultry, but as you listen to the song you realize it is so much deeper than the act of fucking. It’s about the intense love that a young man has for a young woman during the time of concentration camps, Jewish Ghettos, and being in hiding. I can’t imagine the fear they lived with. I just can’t fathom it. But these two people, though they felt fear, they felt love so deeply for one another that it kept them alive. Even in the Treblinka Concentration Camp.

Should they catch us and dispatch us to those separate work camps, yeah
I’ll think about you, I’ll dream about you
I will not doubt you, with the passing of time
Should they kill me, your love will fill me as warm as the bullets
I’ll know my purpose, this war was worth this, I won’t let you down

No I won’t, no I won’t, no I won’t

(Alive, alive, alive with love)
I won’t let them take you, won’t let them take you, hell no no

Max wrote the song about his great grandparents. They survived Treblinka. Through sheer luck? No, I do believe that their love saved them. I am a sappy romantic girl, so I will always believe that to be the case. Just like Max does. Max is a fucking bi-polar schizophrenic, but his lyrics feed my soul.  They speak of sex and want, but they soothe me. They make me believe in undying love. Even in a fucked up time in history and the need for a madman to exterminate an entire race of people. There were still love stories. There was still so much of life for these doomed people to live. How they made it through each day without losing their minds, I have no idea. I don’t think I could have.

It also reminds me of my kids. They’re both singers. Meggie is a classically trained opera singer and Adam Boy is a tenor with a falsetto that can still bring tears to my eyes. When they were teenagers, all their friends would come over on the weekends with acoustic guitars and sing their hearts out. Roger Darling and I would have to be right in the middle of it. To hear all of their voices convey the meaning of the lyrics they sang thrilled my soul and made Roger so proud.

I miss those days, night, weekends and impromptu concerts that took place in our living room. I miss every single one of those kids. They were my kids, even though I didn’t give birth to them. They were mine. Every one of them. They still are. When I see them, they still call me Momma Heath. Or Mom. In some way they complete me. In some way I still complete them.

I’m Turning in my Music Whore Card

As long as you love me
We could be starving
We could be homeless
We could be broke

As long as you love me
I’ll be your platinum
I’ll be your silver
I’ll be your gold

I have always fancied myself to be a music whore. I don’t usually like mainstream music. I mean, I do, but I like the obscure shit too. And don’t get me started on 80’s music. Love 80’s music! I’m not much of a pop princess. I think most of it is drivel.  And annoying! And loud! I’m all for loud, but the music has to be good.

Imagine my chagrin when I started singing along to a Justin Bieber tune. I have a real problem with parents that pimp out their kids and make them superstars at such a young age. I don’t believe he gets the chance to be a normal kid. I mean he appeals to young girls that really don’t know what good music is yet. All the while missing out on his childhood and teenage years. I don’t think it’s fair.

For some reason the song, As Long as You Love Me has become a lovely ear worm. When it comes on the radio, I crank it up. The chorus is the hook, for sure. It resonates with me. The lyrics are simple. Thus why they appeal to me. It kills me that the Biebs is the person singing it. Why can’t Billy Joe Armstrong from Green Day sing the song? Or Max Bemis from Say Anything. Why, oh why does it have to be Justin? And why, oh why do I have to like it so much? I even like Big Sean’s part and I HATE rap unless it’s Tupac!

So today I will admit that I like a Bieber song. It does not mean that I’m going to follow him on the road. Because, well, that would be super creepy! And I promise, promise, promise that I will never, ever write about Justin Bieber again! Please take my music whore card and give it to someone more deserving. Thank you.

I don’t know if this makes sense but
You’re my hallelujah
Give me a time and place
I’ll rendezvous it
I’ll fly it to it
I’ll beat you there
Girl you know I got you

It’s the Second Day of Vacation, So it Must be Time for my Period!

Periods are super fun. Especially on vacation! Ah well, it could be worse. Tracy and I haven’t stopped talking. Her lovely husband showed up today. They’re out taking pictures and I took a nap. Now I’m living on the edge, eating rice cakes and drinking Diet Coke. We had plans today to beach it but we haven’t moved around much. Just relaxing and still talking. I’ve written a few things.  Tracy took a picture of me writing at the kitchen table. It made me a little misty eyed. I’m sure it won’t be the only time that happens this week. Can’t wait to see what her photos inspire me to write this week. Below are some of my word doodles that I scribbled down as I was making the eight hour trek to God’s country.

By Beaver Valley and Mile 12. The word Beaver tickles me silly.

Ch, ch, ch, ch changes, you can’t trace time.

First sweet and sour Charms Pop sucker. My tongue is blue now. It looks like I gave Papa Smurf a BJ.

I hear Bridges Burning by the Foo Fighters. Dave Grohl makes me wanna scream! The bass is so heavy it makes my rear view mirror vibrate.

Why is it when I see someone driving a Beemer I want to roll my window down and scream, Hey! You’re a fucking asshole?

P!nk sings, Don’t Let me Get Me. I’m my own worst enemy.

Then Tiny Dancer. Reminds me of Cameron Crowe and Almost Famous. And Adam Boy. The first time I heard him sing this song with his tenor voice, I cried. Of course I did. The boy makes my heart melt.

I think more about my children. WOW! Even in their 20’s they still find ways to amaze me.

OMFG I need gas!

Ah my Max Bemis starts singing Metal Now. He’s Metal Now, but he always was. He is my imaginary lover. All fucked up and bi-polar and shit. He’s a fucking genius!

Ears pop in peaks and valleys.

Clouds form with thunderheads and makes my Spidey Senses tingle.

Then it’s The Outsiders by NeedtoBreathe On the outside
You’re free to roam
On the outside
We found a home
On the outside
There’s more to see
On the outside
We choose to be.