Honestly, I think that the odds of the earth reversing polarity during my treadmill time is much greater than the odds of getting served the video for my new favorite Frank Black song Bullet. But I feel like pretending that glistening, glittering good music goddesses made my treadmill video dreams come true.
Actually, I feel like pretending a few other things, one of them being that I actually ran. I severely strained my inner thighs attempting BodyPump with my daughter on Tuesday. Let me tell you that going from standing to squatting without warming up is NOT advisable. My traumatized thighs contracted unequally so that my walk became a side-to-side shuffle shockingly similar to the gait of Cotton Hill, who as we all know, got his shins shot off in WWII. So not only will I pretend that I ran to this amazing song but I will also pretend that I was able to run at all.
I have an interesting synchronistic connection with Frank Black songs. On occasion I’ll think something and then I’ll hear a Frank Black or Pixies song that is an answer to that thought. Like being in a conversation with the Universe and something out there is saying “I’m here and I’m listening to you”. And oh, yeah, I created Frank Black as a sign that I love you and want you to be happy, kind of how I created beer for Ben Franklin.
I got the Frank Black “Christmass” CD for, ironically, Christmas (and yeah I know it’s from 2006). Anyway, I fired it up while I was driving home from work. My mind did a little time traveling and went back to the summer when I was in the Tampa library dodging a courtly homeless man who kept asking me out. I lost him in the maze of magazine towers and promptly lost myself in a music magazine that featured interviews with two of my favorites, Frank Black and Nick Cave.
As I was driving, I thought about the Frank Black interview. He told a story that happened after his father died. Frank’s brother was clearing out their father’s attic and called Frank to report that he found a stash of guns and a single bullet was loaded in each gun. And a few moments, I heard FB sing these words “And by the way if the revolution comes
Please take my rifles and take my guns
A single bullet loaded in each one” Wow, yeah, that had to be about his father and I had never heard this song before and had no idea that it existed. Very nice, almost as nice as the song itself.