Slippin into darkness
When I heard my mother say
I was slippin into darkness
When I heard my mother say
Hey, whatd she say, whatd she sayYou been slippin into darkness, oh, oh, oh
Pretty soon youre gonna payOh, oh, oh, oh
— lyrics by War: B.B. Dickerson / C. Miller / P.D. Allen / H. Brown / H. Scott / L. Oskar / L. Jordan
Such a dark cloud hangs over things. On most days lately I’ve just slipped past it. I’d like to think I’ve made my peace with the ongoing descent into feudal madness, but some weeks it just piles up, like the nasty storms battering the northeast, just relentlessly the heavens pound and smother and spread decay, helped along by far too many people. Every morning, my bus rumbles through downtown Milwaukee, past the big sign on the Convention Center for the NRA Convention. All over town, this copy is emblazoned on billboards:
All of this in a state which is being dragged “south” (in a confederate state-of-mind sense) by wingers from the exurbs and up north putting an amendment on the ballot this fall to enshrine bigotry into the state constitution (read about how progressives are fighting back here) and putting on the fall ballot an advisory referendum to bring back the death penalty, struck down here in 1853.
Now, I’m not a big gun control person. My father was a lifelong hunter. I understand that some people want a weapon to protect their homes (give me a bat or butcher knife, myself … guns are too complicated in the dark of night), despite actual home invasions being extremely rare, but I do understand. What is hard to accept is the NRA’s fanatic line that ANY controls are to be opposed. The NRA’s take on things is just too dark, too extreme. They portray an America that is at eternal war, which has no real polity, where invading hordes of aliens threaten rapine and pillage on every hard-working American. And now they’ve brought it here. Not to get too psuedo-mystical about it, but you can feel it, like the ozone tang in the air before a storm. I hate the feeling of this anger and fear washing over this town that tries so hard to be laid back, with its festivals and public celebrations. Adding all of these scared paranoids to a city already stirred up by out-of-control cops getting away with brutality just feels like a bad idea.
Is this really what we’ve become, a frightened, pinched, angry, armed-to-the-teeth and balkanized rabble?
Most of the time, I try to tell myself, “no, this isn’t who we are, not all of us”. I watch Feingold’s increasingly overt and principled resistance to business as usual in Washington (see here and also here and here for just this week’s examples) and I take heart. This state, with it’s beautiful parks and good roads and decent government services produces leaders like the Senator, today as it has in the past. Much of what is good about Wisconsin is a result of the strong progressive tradition here, of past socialist governments and an engaged and active citizenry. I’ve lived all over the country, and sometimes I think people who grew up here don’t really appreciate some of this. I miss New York City desperately, and would even prefer a real urban environment like Chicago to the small insularity of southeast Wisconsin, but I’m here, and compared to many other places, it’s pretty good.
Then the NRA invades. A sizable movement of people push forward with plans to kill with the power of the state, to enshrine bigotry, to strangle a government that actually works pretty well with “tax reform” and it casts a pall.
Anyway, my little black and white (how appropriate!) Zen Micro seems to try to cheer me up, offering up songs that speak to me of summers past (well, except for the Nick Cave, but there always has to be a dark thought or two):
- “Spill the Wine” – Eric Burden & War
- “Take it So Hard (live) – Keith Richards & the X-pensive Winos
- “Just Keep Me Moving – K. D. Lang
- “Rubber Shirt” – Frank Zappa
- “History Repeats Itself” – AOS
- “Happy” – Rolling Stones
- “Looking at the Sun” – Matthew Sweet
- “Mack the Knife” – Nick Cave
- “Hang Down Your Head” – Tom Waits
- “Heaven” – Talking Heads
There, at the end, a little ray of hope:
Everyone is trying to get to the bar.
The name of the bar, the bar is called Heaven.
The band in Heaven plays my favorite song.
They play it once again, they play it all night long.Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.
Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.There is a party, everyone is there.
Everyone will leave at exactly the same time.
Its hard to imagine that nothing at all
could be so exciting, and so much fun.Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.
Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.When this kiss is over it will start again.
It will not be any different, it will be exactly
the same.
It’s hard to imagine that nothing at all
could be so exciting, could be so much fun.Heaven is a place where nothing every happens.
Heaven is a place where nothing every happens.— lyrics by d. byrne
