CBE, CH

 The other night I was up late trying to fix this thing I wrote about ten years ago and lamenting the fact that I'd released it into the wild before it was ready. Oh my God it sucked. Just really, really sucked on a Black Hole level of suckage.  So anyway there I am and it's eleven o'clock and I've got a YouTube playlist going. Up pops a song I haven't heard in fifteen years.

Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters, by Elton freakin' John. 

I sang every single word of that song without even needing to think about it.  Then I thought 'What in the sweet hell just happened?"

Now back in 1972-3 I was Miss Elton John Super Fan of America, the Moon, Mars and the Universe.  I had every single American release. I had bootleg copies. I had the soundtrack to 'Friends'. I had the Elton John poster where he's bare chested, mostly. 

Oooooo, my dad hated this poster. Absolutely hated it.    

I went to his concert and there opening for him was Kiki Dee (who had the music in her.  Boy, did she.  "Kiki Dee, set me free, Kiki Dee, set me free, Kiki Dee, set me free, Kiki Dee, set me free."  There was a full fifteen minutes of her singing that phrase. I hope somebody freed her, shit.)  

I embroidered an Elton John pair of overalls with lightning bolts and glowing hands of benediction and other ridiculous things on it, along with the initials 'RKD' done in silver beads. Yes, I wore it in public.   Well, there you go, right? I was a thirteen-year-old kid, so that was my job, to be embarrassing and do lame things.  My nickname might have been 'Reggie'.  I embroidered the back piece of a Levi's jacket with the 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road' album cover, and made a little money from that; which wasn't bad for a Jr. High kid.  And then Caribou came out in 1974, and I was a freshman in High School, and I got over Elton. While he was doing his goofy pinball thingamaroo I was busy trying to get rid of my virginity. 

This is me being sexy in 1974: "Hi I read Tolkein  LETS DRINK KEROSEEEEEENE"    

So yesterday evening, just for shits and giggles, I found an Elton John Channel, and be ding-danged if I couldn't sing every single song from all the records I'd owned. I mean like even 'No Shoestrings on Louise' and 'Western Ford Gateway' and 'Amoreena'. 

Ha ha. That gets back my upstairs neighbor for rapping in the bathroom because I played it loud and I sang very badly. Take that, Shithouse Rhymes. 

Every couple of years I get surprised by Elton John like this. Fucker rings my doorbell and wants to come in and reminisce, and it's just not the same, dude; and he stinks up the bathroom. 

If you search 'Funny Toilet' you get this.  I've been laughing for five minutes because the first thing I thought was 'Elmo's seen some shit'.  ITS FUNNY DAMMIT      

What I mean to say is, one of Elton Johns' songs will come on the radio and I'll trip on how easily the words come back. 

If I'd known what a mental sponge I was back in 1972-3 I would like to think that I would have committed more useful things to memory, like the Naval Chain of Command, or how banking and investment works or something. But no. All I have to show for Jr. High is a battered sense of self-esteem and a head full of Bernie Taupin lyrics.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD