I represent a small and unique niche of displaced persons . We are the aging rockers-the fans-the minor players-the aficionados-the believers. We went to the original Fillmore,Woodstock,the Electric Factory-Steve Pauls Scene, the Avalon Ballroom/The Troubadour/The Whisky/Max’s Kansas City/CBGB’s The Star Club & the Cavern. We loitered on Sunset Strip; the East Village; Warhol’s Factory; the suburbs of Cleveland and anywhere music blared. We grew up on vinyl and remember it fondly-particularly the albums that had gatefold covers (which allowed us to make sure we lost no dope when we separated the stems & the seeds from the good stuff). We marched for real causes-and we marched to meet girls. We were stupid enough to think we made a difference-and we are still stupid today as we look for a cause to champion. We believed in free love-and missed the concept! We are 5-10 years away from assisted living- and yet we still look as Tim Hardin once said, “for a reason to believe.”
We look for truth and guidance in our music . We are the modern day Diogenes carrying our lamps in the daytime looking for an honest rocker. So I ask you: why is it that style trumps substance? Money trumps integrity? And 15 minutes of fame should arrive in 15 minutes-rather than after 15 years of slugging it out? I battle with these questions every day-and I have to tell you: it contributes to my chronic insomnia. Between 11 and 3 AM every night when my wife is long asleep, I’ve got my trusty changer at my side and I flip through the overpriced premium channels like sundance, HBO, Starz, Encore and Showtime. Fuck Fios-why can’t I buy my channels al la carte? Do I really need 50 golf channels or 200 religious channels? Anyway, I flip endlessly looking for something to pull me in (“Cathouse” on HBO?!) but I find myself being suckered into mostly the IFC/Sundance offerings only because they are a bit off the beaten track. One thing they have been running quite a bit of and I can never stop watching is that Ramones documentary “End of the Century”. The Ramones were the quintessential dysfunctional rock band-the rock and roll equivalent of the “R.Crumb”. Those guys were so fucked up that they truly epitomize what great rockers should be. They were illiterate, stupid, lovable and had no option in life but to play rock and roll. They broke your hearts, made you laugh, powered your brain and crumbled in the end. The last 5 minutes of the film was heartbreaking as Dee Dee is shown running down a hallway in a hotel yelling some fucked up intelligible words-and then the credits roll up saying he died a few weeks later. No “hey hey my my” here. Yes it’s tough carrying the dream around remembering when you went to the Fillmore and saw Country Joe Play for the first and maybe the only time in his career-the song, “Quiet Days in Clichy,” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c8k-_mmpoog) -before he became a rabid feminist)-or watch Ray Davies fall over dead drunk in 1970 at Carnegie Hall debuting “Lola”. I had the coolest Beatle boots and & the music was good-really good!! Only now does the scary thought dawn on me that I might just be the “Aqualung” on the park bench. So as I contemplate the future (and reach for my Lexipro) I can’t help but recall the comforting thoughts of the past and my fantasy girls-my loves-first & forever.
Love is the fuel that powers our music and our lives. Yes it can be sappy and syrupy and God knows there are so many crappy love songs out there. But love is truly at the heart of most music and really life itself. Porky’s are incurable romantics. We truly love from the earliest years to our inevitable end. We fall hard and our love never dies. All that it takes is a chance encounter-a look-a fantasy. We love our long forgotten girlfriends from 7th grade as though it was yesterday. Each one is unique and holds a special place in our heart. Our most significant and meaningful loves are unfortunately; the ones clearly beyond our reach. And although we never could have a real relationship with these fantasy goddesses-in our mind, these relationships are very real.
Indulge me here:
Susan was always 2nd or third billed. She played a nihilistic character who never had a chance. She conveyed the image of beauty and sadness simultaneously.. I think it was her part in the “The Fugitive” with David Jannsen (a lost soul and porky) that stole my heart. Her beauty matches her obscurity-she will always be no.1 in my heart.
Grace Lee Whitney (better known as Yeoman Rand on the original “Star Trek”)
Yeoman Janice Rand was only in a few episodes in the first season of Star Trek-but she made quite an impression on this young brain. I mean lets face it-If she was good enough for Captain Kirk….
Donna Michelle-1964 Playboy Playmate of the Year
Donna Michelle while mostly inconsequential to the world at large-will always remain very special to me as she was the female that “turned” my love from the puppy love variety to the physical dimension of impure thoughts . It was my dear Donna who was responsible for opening my floodgates and creating the conflict that every man wrestles with his whole life. If there is one thing that determines the human male character and makes for greatness and an inordinate amount of bad behavior it’s the penis brain hookup-or as Philip Roth would say, “Portnoy’s Complaint.”
Lily St. Cyr
I used to wake up in the morning
I used to feel so bad
I got so sick of having sleepless nights
I went and told my dad
He said, “Son now here’s some little something”
And stuck them on my wall
And now my nights ain’t quite so lonely
In fact I, I don’t feel bad at all
Pictures of Lily made my life so wonderful
Pictures of Lily helped me sleep at night
Pictures of Lily solved my childhood problems
Pictures of Lily helped me feel alright”
Pictures of Lily/The Who 1967
Lily St.Cyr didn’t have the fanatical fan base that Betty Page had, but her heyday was during the same time frame as Betty’s. Truly dignified, she was a Sex Goddess that inspired worship. There is an interesting story behind this photo I published. A local artist filmmaker and comedic talent-Pat Carroll-best known for being part of the Langley Punks Film troupe-was in correspondence with Lily for the last 10 years of her life. Pat worshipped Lily and helped her in so many ways. He was responsible for getting me this signed photograph for which I will be eternally grateful. Last time I talked to Pat he was working on a book of her life-I do hope it sees the light of day. “Pictures of Lily did make my life so wonderful”
What red-blooded man doesn’t have an interest in pornography?. Kay Parker was a star from porn’s “Golden Age.” She was the first real “MILF”. She stole my heart immediately-I’m not sure why… maybe it was the faint hint of that English accent?. But Kay made me realize and appreciate older women-or as is the case now-women my own age. An older woman with a sense of humor is a treasure and lord knows, certainly more forgiving. Who else would dress up as a Nun-allow you to put on your Tarzan suit, tolerate you swinging from the rafters, hollering, and not always on target? It’s.. it’s… it’s… just what I’ve heard .
Ah my loves….and I’m sure all you out there have yours-a word of caution though-these loves of ours should best remain locked away in our minds and I’ll tell you why. This episode occurred recently to me and I would not wish it on anyone.
“Darling (as my wife calls me-sometimes)… the mail is here.” “Bills I’m sure-just put them on the table.” “What’s this? The Sasha Gray fan club-who’s that?” “Oh its nothing-just give it to me (trying to grab it away from my wife).. What-a bra-its signed!! to my love! What?? Why?-these are yours?!! you sick… “Damn I ordered the panties”-No I ordered boxer shorts-for the summer-mine had holes-shorts-short pants-you remember I told you I was gonna take up tennis..they must have mixed up my mail with someone else’s its a mistake. Its not mine!…I.. I… I….I’m innocent….