It’s Over

Something is wrong and I can’t put my finger on it. It feels as though the universe is misaligned, something is askew and the Gods are showering me with a strange miasma. I no longer laugh. I no longer cry.

For example, this morning Gertrude decided three bites into her oatmeal that she no longer wanted it for breakfast. Why? Because it was too sweet. I began to scold her about wasting food and she interrupted me.

“Listen, man,” she said, “I had TWO cookies last night and my body just can’t handle any more sugar!”

That should have been funny. But it wasn’t. Why? Why wasn’t it?

Because in my head, I had the ELO song “Telephone Line” running over and over and over. The over-wrought lyrics. Symphonic sounds. Beatle-esque platitudes mixed with Moody Blues moodiness. It just kept going. (Here, the wonderful Wondermints wow you with their interpretation.)

But, oh, it got worse. “Livin’ Thing” got stuck in my head and I was filled with a need to get up and pump my left hip as I shook my hands.

I began to sweat and the kids looked at me.

“Daddy, are you okay,” Matilda asked.

“No. I . . . I need to feed my voice through a modulator while I sing. And I need my rock and roll to sound like it has been filtered through Erich Kunzel’s wheat germ. I need space-age neo-classical disco progressive rock and no one can stop me!”

Out of the Blue. Yes. “Mr. Blue Sky”. “Sweet Talking Woman”. “Turn to Stone”. Yes. “Across the Border”. No. No, that one sounds like Brian Wilson’s nauseated tones over a toilet.

What I need is a song that slowly builds to a giant crescendo and then crashes down in a sad denouement as we all cry at the loss in the song.

Oh yes. Electric Light Orchestra you are my guilty pleasure. I cannot stop today. I am Jeff Lynne’s bitch today. I need my music shined to a military polish. No improv, no room to wiggle. I need finely tuned, orchestrated music that fits neatly into its boxes. Synthesized strings! I need synthesized strings! Lasers! I need lasers!

Oh yes. I feel my hair growing into a Faux-Fro. And I have a sudden urge to wear suspenders and a white t-shirt while I boogie. I need help.

UPDATE: Nice work guys. We knocked the ELO video off the site. I'm proud of you all. Now, here's something to take your mind off of the saddness at the loss.