Saturday, July 17, 2004

Well, aren't I early?
Leslie has been away for most of the day. Because the hot water heater in the house was being replaced, I stayed home and wallowed in my own filth until about 2 hours ago when I finally showered.
I spent most of the day alternating between watching baseball on TV and reading a biography about the Buffalo Springfield. Lots of drugs and egos in that band. They were young and stupid. They're one of the few bands from that time period that still have all their members still alive, so that has to count for something.
Well, before Leslie gets home, I have to get to tonight's entry from The Writ. This one needs a LOT of explaining.
I have chronic seasonal allergies, so in the spring, when most people are mating, I am sneezing and reaching for the nearest tissues. My allergies are caused more by heat and humidity, so I have a better time of it in the Fall and Winter. Autumn is easily my favorite season of the year, so when the summer finally ends and the weather turns cold, this is MY mating season.
When I lived in Pennsylvania, I made friends for a brief time with a between gigs guitar player who ran a karaoke showcase on Friday nights. It was early in October and the weather had been summer-like for the preceding weeks. I went out one Friday night heading for the karaoke bar. I left all the windows open in my third floor apartment, as it had been in the low '70's that day. ..
Now, the next part needs a little more of an explanation. I talk to myself. I'm PROUD of the fact that I talk to myself. In the end, I'm the only one who can make sense of my thought processes and understands what the hell I'm saying. The voice I talk to myself with takes many forms, one of these being a voice that sounds roughly like Arte Johnson's old man character on "Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In" that sat on the park bench next to Ruth Buzzi, who would end up saying something slightly off-color to her, and would invariably end up getting bashed over the head with Ruth's handbag.
Now, that being said, I can continue the story. The temperature dropped about twenty or twenty-five degrees that night. I got home at about 2:30, unlocked the door to my apartment, and I found it joyfully chilly. "It's AUTUMN!", I said to myself. Suddenly the lecherous Arte voice in my head followed that with "bend over".
About an hour later, this song was written. It's not about anyone specific, and it is not about what would seem like the obvious topic on first read. I don't enjoy you-know-what, and I'm not an advocate in any way, shape or form of that kind of activity. To each his own though; don't let me stop anyone from having a good time. Unfortunately, I put these lyrics to one of my most catchy tunes written to date, so most people really like this song (as long as they have a sense of humor).  Without further ado, I present........
Bend Over, It's Autumn 
The leaves fall gently through the trees, then it rains and makes a mess 
The wind is blowin' 'round the hem of my true love's favorite dress 
October winds come gently 'round her head, but I'm lookin' at the top of her legs instead 
And I love her from the top down to the bottom 
Bend over, it's autumn! 
And nothin' truly feels like the first time when a cold wind hits your chest 
So at the risk of sounding crude, will you please show me your breasts? 
I look at them and fall in love again; I would hate it if they fell on other men 
Well, two brown eyes on top, one on the bottom 
Bend over, it's autumn! 
Well, throw open the window and give us some cool fresh air 
I'm never truly happy 'til your whole backside is bare 
And you can fake it if you really wanna 
Any feminist will tell ya 
I'm a man, and I'm not supposed to care 

I'm holding you as close as I can get without being behind you 
And what would truly be so wrong with that, from back there I love the view 
We'll start to get a little frigid rain, then I'll wake you up and start all over again 
So hop up into bed and make like Rover
It's autumn, bend over!  
And that's one more. I read a caption under a picture of Randy Newman once that said, "If the songwriter offends you, you've missed the point". That is my disclaimer, but certainly NOT my apology. I make no apologies for anything leaning towards the artistic.
Leslie just called me on the cell phone. She'll be home in about an hour from her sister's place in Illinois, home of future Democratic Senator Barach Obama. I'm going to go do the dishes and change over the laundry. This was an early post, so I'm going to bed later instead of staying awake. I bid all peaceful people a restful sleep, and all warriors a change of heart.

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