Thursday, August 21, 2014

blue suede god

Once, probably before you were a twinkle in your daddy's eye, a fellow named Carl Perkins
Carl Perkins
wrote and performed a rockabilly song entitled "Blue Suede Shoes" that later gained momentum when Elvis Presley took up the melody. The song began:
Well, it's one for the money,
Two for the show,
Three to get ready,
Now go, cat, go.

But don't you step on my blue suede shoes.
You can do anything but lay off of my Blue suede shoes.

Well, you can knock me down,
Step in my face,
Slander my name
All over the place.

Do anything that you want to do, but uh-uh,
Honey, lay off of my shoes....
Like  a lot of songs at the time, the lyrics were not as important as the gut-deep je-ne-sais-quoi of the  beat and joy that came with it. This was eeeeeee-hawwwww DNA-deep stuff: Words didn't matter -- meaning was what mattered and those who listened knew the meaning even if they didn't know the meaning. Like a sunset, the song was both yummy and d'oh ... just shovel it in and dance your ass off! This was passion ... low-flame, hot-as-molten-steel heat!

I think there is something to be said for passion that is passion even when knowing the nature of that passion remains somehow secret.

Take real chocolate, for example. Or, in my case, mayonnaise. Or, if the Associated Press is to be believed, a South Korean love of instant noodles:
Hence the emotional heartburn caused by a Baylor Heart and Vascular Hospital study in the United States that linked instant noodles consumption by South Koreans to some risks for heart disease. The study has provoked feelings of wounded pride, mild guilt, stubborn resistance, even nationalism among South Koreans, who eat more instant noodles per capita than anyone in the world.
Do not mess with my Blue Suede Shoes or South Korea noodles! This is important if ineffable stuff ... sorta like God: You may not be exactly sure of the meaning, but do not fuck with the meaning I am 100% sure exists!

I am not kidding. Doesn't everyone need to pick his or her poison at some point -- some music to which they are willing to dance and dance and dance some more? Sure, there is sniffing around the edges and pretending and solemnizing, but then isn't there a point at which to take responsibility and dive in? Isn't there a point at which to assert meaning even if the complete meaning is not quite known? Isn't there a point at which to assert that this -- whatever this is -- is true and even if it's not true (even if it turns out to be a pair of blue suede shoes)? Isn't there something about noodles that deserves an undivided attention and willingness to go the whole hog ... to find out if what is called "true" actually is true?

Maybe not. Maybe "blue suede shoes" is enough to get through life on. Maybe praise is enough. Maybe belief is enough. But I think that the passion whose passion cannot be explained deserves better... and makes the shoes more truly comfortable. Go for the dance floor! Go for the dance floor and dance!


  1. Trust of these days I am going to get my arms around one those local lasses, and when I do they won't know whats hit'em.

  2. I too like mayonnaise ... on my anchovies.

  3. I believe it deeply, and that proves it. Don't tread on my blue side shoes or the smiting will begin. As gods go, i can live with this one, more reasonable commands.

  4. Friggin' autocorrect and friggin' mindfulness failures... suede not side*

    1. i'm not alone, for Neptune's wet beards sake, thanks
      Marcelo Job