I Never Cared For You

The sun is filled with ice
And gives no warmth at all and
The sky was never blue
The stars are raindrops
Searching for a place to fall
And I never cared for you

I know you won't believe these things I tell you
No, you won't believe
Your heart has been forewarned all men will lie to you and
Your mind cannot conceive
Now all depends on what I say to you
And on your doubting me
So I've prepared these statements far from truth
Pay heed and disbelieve

The song 'I Never Cared For You' was written and recorded by Willie Nelson on the album The Essential Willie Nelson released in 2003. In typical Willie style every note and fret reverberates with Spanish passion. No one plays a beat up, worn out guitar quite like Willie Nelson. The liner notes for The Essential Willie Nelson celebrates his 70th birthday with quotes and accolades from many famous performers and personalities. One of these notes says "Willie could have retired comfortably from the proceeds of the song Crazy' (Written in 1961 and recorded and made infamous by the late great Patsy Cline). Bet he wished he did when the IRS came a callin'.

Okay, so why the song 'I Never Cared For You'? To me, the song speaks of the fragile relationships of men and women through the use of reverse psychology. Wikipedia states: Reverse psychology is a persuasion technique that involves the false advocacy of a belief or behavior contrary to the belief or behavior that is actually being advocated. Wow that was a mouthful. And now back to our show...

What do women see in men anyways?

Now stand back men (and women) as I tar you all with the same brush...to hell with the brush today my keyboard is a Wagner Power Painter capable of 7.2 gallons per hour. Fifty percent of the time women are asking their better half sweetly, 'What are you thinking about?' The other fifty percent they are screaming 'What the hell were you thinking?' Well let me fill you in, were thinking, 'beernascarxboxfootballfishingbigscreenlesbians' thank you for asking. Not necessarily always in that particular order.

At the risk of sounding like Andy Rooney of 60 Minutes fame, 'Have you ever wondered why males always have their hand down the front of their pants?" I Googled that today and women are frantically wondering why we do this, posting questions in forums everywhere. Try it, I mean try Googling it not try putting your hands down your pants (men you may have to take your hand out of your pants just long enough to type in the search). I don't believe there is any deep meaning here. It's just common sense. Why do you think God made our arms the exact length to reach our crotch if we weren't meant to put our hands there? We don't need to bend our arms or our backs to do it. It is a naturally comfortable position. I suppose if our arms were long enough to touch our toes like apes we would always have a hand in our socks instead.

To be continued...

When You Say Nothing At All

It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart
Without saying a word you can light up the dark
Try as I may I could never explain
What I hear when you don't say a thing

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

Once again let me give credit where credit is due. The song 'When You Say Nothing At All" was written by Paul Overstreet and Don Schlitz and released in 1988 by Keith Whitley. It was subsequently recorded by Alison Krauss and Ronan Keating. I must say I enjoy the Alison Kraus version the best. I just prefer to visualize her singing it then the others...MMMMMMMM Alison Krauss...can you blame me?

Okay, so why the song 'When You Say Nothing At All'? Isn't it a song about how two people in love can communicate with their hearts and souls and not only with their mouths? I guess I can believe that, however, in the context of my blog here, it simply represents the fact that I usually 'Say Nothing At All'. Or perhaps I lean more to the fact that I 'Say it best when' I 'Say Nothing At All'.

Do you know anyone who has conversations in his/her head? I am not talking about hearing voices 'Son of Sam' style. There are no voices in my head, be they real or imaginable, that are trying to make me commit some random act of sin. The voice in my head is me...Jesus that's scary enough!. I have conversations going on that I do not share with others, even when they are sitting next to me and the subject is them. Hmmm I just realized that I don't share well with others...perhaps that's where my childhood problems stem from. I don't look in the mirror and say 'You Talkin To Me', 'You Talkin To Me', Well I'm The Only One Here' in my best Robert DeNiro voice...Okay I don't have a best DeNiro voice. Sometimes, and very rarely, I will actually let slip out of my mouth what is actually being thought in my head. Folks be thankful for that very rarely part.

Saying nothing at all sure keeps me out of trouble for the most part. Let's face it I have a lot of thoughts that should most assuredly stay locked in the cob-webby recesses of my addled mind. I am even learning to replace the missing 'PC' filter with some good old common sense of late. Alright I fail at this still on a regular basis.

The relationships I have with my few good friends and family never required a continuous flow of conversation. I guess that's why I said 'few'. I am totally comfortable sitting in silence while enjoying someone else's presence. Yes, alcohol has been known to loosen the granite like grip on my tongue. Although I am a happy drunk, I am not drunk that often.

If you read my first post, 'You Don't Know Me', you will know that there are times when my reputation proceeds me and I feel the need to perform. It isn't really a need it's more like an expectation. After all performing is not really sharing what I'm thinking it is closer to just pulling out a rusty piece of comedic interlude from the dark filing cabinet with the drawer marked XXX. Don't get me wrong I still enjoy the 'Shock & Awe' of it all. However it still is not really me, just the me I let people know.

My thoughts are neither always dark and mean spirited, nor always deep and inspirational. They can be just the simplest of things that I choose not to communicate. Most times I tend to think myself out of saying things. Over thinking leads to missed opportunities, misunderstanding and misinterpretation but never, and I mean to the end of the world and back never, has it ever lead to Miss October [insert your favorite adult magazine here].

Thinking has always gotten in the way of reading a good book as my mind wonders in and out of the elaborate labyrinth of possibilities. Sometimes I have to read the past couple of pages again because although my eyes passed over the words my conscious had drifted away to some obscure, unrealized conversation.

Perhaps worst of all is the lack of sleep caused by the bottling plant in my skull. Caution contents under pressure, do not shake or place near a heat source. With the lack of communication comes lack of sleep. Perhaps a neurologist could install a simple yet handsome on/off switch just behind my right ear. Or better yet a faucet like pressure relief valve on the back of my head whereby I could drain the brain quickly for a better nights sleep. A simple set of requirements for this enhancement would be 1) make it the same size as my nose so I don't fall over backwards 2) might as well give me a chrome one so it will eventually blend in with my graying hair 3) design it with a detachable handle so no one else can turn it on and release the onslaught of undigested thoughts. Sorry that was the software analyst in me coming out...hey wait a minute, did I say that out loud? I guess I wasn't thinking!

And Yes...most unfortunately it has been the downfall of a few relationships and for that I am most regretful.

To conclude here is a quick quote on thinking:

"Men fear thought as they fear nothing else on earth, more than ruin, more even than death. Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and terrible, thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions, and comfortable habit. Thought looks into the pit of hell and is not afraid. Thought is great and swift and free, the light of the world, and the chief glory of man." ~Bertrand Russell

Here is a link to the video 'When You Say Nothing At All'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjsjZWlRVvo

You Don't Know Me

You give your hand to me
Then you say hello
I can hardly speak
My heart is beating so
And anyone can tell
You think you know me well
But you don't know me

First let me give credit where credit is due; The song 'You Don't Know Me' was written by Eddie Arnold and Cindy Walker in 1955. It has been recorded by a number of great artists including; Ray Charles, Elvis Presley, Kenny Loggins, Jann Arden, Willie Nelson, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Harry Connick Jr and on and on. Although my favorite version was done by Kenny Loggins on his 1980 'Alive' album I also enjoyed the latest version by Willie Nelson on his aptly named 'The Songs of Cindy Walker'. The worst version, by far, had to be Jann Arden's release on her album 'Live with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra'.

The themes for my blogs will all take their form, in one way or another, from the lyrics of songs that have managed to work their way into my heart and soul (though most people think I posses neither; as a side, my favorite author Stephen King once said, "People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff. I like to tell them I have the heart of a small boy... and I keep it in a jar on my desk"). So why call my blog 'You don't know me'? Although the songs theme is 'Unrequited Love', the song speaks to me about my lack of intimacy when it comes to letting people really know me.

I suppose there are those that are closest to me that have an inkling of my DNA makeup and there are those who think, or barely know, what makes Larry tick. My co-workers and casual acquaintances mostly see me as 'Mr. Politically Incorrect' and yes there is no doubt that this reputation proceeds me wherever I roam. I must admit it has been fairly earned as well.

The fact that I was born without the 'PC' filter normally installed between your mouth and brain is quite evident. I have crafted this part of my persona ever since the class clown of my grade 3 class, John Carney (sorry John wherever you are, no really I am...alright I'm not), was home sick one day from school and someone had to fill the position. I don't believe there were any job applications or job postings for the position, I just nominated myself. At first it was simply a coping mechanism to allow me to fit in or stand out from the crowd. You see I never excelled at anything in my life. I was a good athlete but not a great one. I was a good student but not a great one. However I was a great class clown.

Being a class clown means you have a steady gig 5 days a week. Of course the pay is non-existent. My popularity soared in and out of class. When I wasn't cracking up a classroom I could be found out in the hallways of my school, not on purpose mind you, where I would be inevitably found by the Principal of our elementary school while she made her rounds. During the 60's 'the strap', as it was affectionately known, was the Principals favorite method of child enlightenment. Our Principal, unfortunately my Mother's good friend, was an old pro when it came to 'the strap'. A large matronly woman with beady eyes that shone with the fires of Hades, well that was the impression she gave the 6-10 year olds. Her head of curly hair just emphasized her roots in purgatory as it gave her a Medusa like resemblance. She had a way of building up the 'enlightenment', almost giving you the false hope of ultimately escaping her wrath, all the while she was simply summoning every ounce of energy in her ample girth only to put it in motion on any number of your body parts. Of course the pummeling was accompanied by the usual statement "This hurts me more than it hurts you" to which I somehow could not stop the reply..."Then why don't you let me hit you with the strap so that I might get the most of my punishment"...this just made her arm fat resonate with a frequency only heard by bats as she increased the number of strikes exponentially.

The beating I remember the most stemmed from an incident of harmless discovery. It was picture taking day at the school. All the boys had on there best shirt, blazer and tie all looking quite similar to Beaver Cleaver (the 50's and 60's TV show...no affiliation with any modern adult sites) . The girls were all done up in their best sweaters atop of their favorite skirt or dress. Everyone is lined up for the photo op. I recover a yardstick hanging alongside the chalk board and proceed to lift each skirt just enough to have a peek of each of the girls undercarriage. Now I am sure you are coming to the realisation, as did I eventually, that the yardstick was the wrong apparatus to use in this endeavour. I would have preferred a mechanic's dolly to scoot around on in a much more covert manner, however, there were none in sight. My choice of the discovery implement, wait for it...became the implement of the next scarring beating saga. Too bad pool noodles were not prevalent in the 60's. How my mother continued to have a good freindship with my Principal, despite my actions, is still amazing to me.

Once Primary to Grade 3 was done with it was on to a new school for the next 6 years. My newest Principal, a weird combination of TV characters Kojak (Telly Savalas) and Gonzo from the Muppets, was affectionately known as 'Scab Eyes'. The source of the nickname still escapes me, perhaps I am just to scared, even today, to research the topic . I am sure they just slid him back in his 'iron lung' at the end of each school day and rolled him back into his lair only to have the whole process reversed each morning. He ruled the school with an iron fist and rumors abounded of his ability to kick any student's ass no matter their size or what part of town they were from. Despite the fear of becoming a midnight snack for our cannibalistic Principal I spent even more time out in the hallways of middle school and even received an award from my peers for Most Humerous student. My favorite teacher was my wood shop teacher. He was very quick to remind me of the fact that "The world is full of unemployed comedians!" Perhaps a change in career plans was in order. Nah...screw it! I beleive the great philosipher Plato...or maybe perhaps it was Popeye...once said 'I yam what I yam!".

To conclude here is a quick quote on intimacy:

It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;-- it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others. ~ Jane Austen Sense and Sensibility

Here is a link to YouTube with Willie Nelson performing 'You DOn't Know Me'.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPeyrjPN5Qs