09 July 2008

Killer pain, killer rifts

I have experienced few things worse than the back spasm I am enduring now. From just below my scapula all the way down to the hip bones. Hurts to stay in any position too long. Last night it was so bad that I wished for massive amounts of drugs. Unfortunately at the current time I have no insurance, so the thought of acquiring some (at least legally) had to pass just as the idea of sleep had to be let go. Instead I was awake. I continued reading What is the What? I played around on the internet. I tried to eat. I started to pack for the big move. I watched season three of Weeds. I tried to figure out what color to paint the kitchen of the house. All while taking breaks every 20 minutes or so to try and stretch my back and to lay down. I felt like the guy who was on Clean House's Messiest Home in America 2. Not because I am a slob -- because of the back issues.

Today I have been trying to deal with the pain. Trying to run the errands that need to be run, watch episodes from season four, and catch up on sleep, and move as slowly and as gracefully as possible so as not to agitate this here back.

Wednesday on many radio stations is Way Back Wednesday. Now it seems that some of the songs they consider way back aren't that old -- or maybe I am just getting that old, who knows.

Anyway my way back hit of the day is Prince's "Diamonds and Pearls". I tried to find a video I could embed, but I guess he has blocked the sound from the videos that are on YouTube. You can see it on this person's site, though.

There is just something about him that is so wonderful to me. Even as a small child I was amazed by him. What an amazing artist.

I wouldn't even need him to give me diamonds or pearls. I'm not materialistic. I wouldn't need him to do anything sexual to me. I just want (a little) of his extra time. I just want for him to serenade me with his falsetto, followed by talking to me with that deep voice that doesn't match his body. I want to be able to look at him dance in his cool/interesting wardrobe. I wish for him to play some awesome, awesome guitar rifts for me. I wouldn't even bring up Purple Rain or the assless pants.

I just want to be blessed with his presence.

Just let me look at him for a bit.

I would even move to Minnesota for the chance to hang with him and see him in a studio. I wouldn't even be mad at him for not performing his songs in his old manner at the last concert I saw him at. It doesn't matter that I wanted to see him grind with his guitar. I can't be mad at him for finding religion.

If I can't get Prince, then let me at least get Dave Chappelle and Charlie Murphy doing their impression of him. That was hilarious. Almost as funny as the Rick James bits.

Humor makes the pain fade into the background -- until a huge guffaw is released.

Can someone tell me what happened to Lauryn Hill? I've been bumping some of her old Fugees stuff (and solo stuff) and really wish she was still around.

Just a sampling:

1 comment:

  1. One of my friends lives by his studio. We drove by it.

    Diamonds and Pearls makes me think of when my friend's mom died. We had a real Irish wake for her, and were all sitting around drinking. My friends sister had the top of her funeral outfit on, a black top and pearl necklace, but sweatpants on bottom. She changed the words to "sweatpants and pearls". That's what I think of every time I hear that song or think of it.


I share my thoughts and would love to read your thoughts, too.