I’ve been shot through with the rictus of glory. It’s her Monster work. I realize with a jolt why she’s risen to this carnivorous fame. It’s like a flesh eating bacteria, not something you give much heed to until it’s on you. And when the song finally gets wormed in your head, then the Gaga work has been done and the egg bursts to release tiny monsters flooding into you. Then you realize why she’s become so important. Not because Pop needs fodder. But because when someone really taps the zeitgeist they have their finger on a button that can’t be ignored. That button’s like your navel and it shoves in and up. And something breaks in you and there’s a burst. The swell of it, if and when you come out of your hermit’s cave, the great singing, soaring swell carries you on. You feel the rush of what it means to be alive in your times, to not be missing the boat. And the song, the one that’s stuck in your head, turns out to be good. That’s that power of good music, it’s its own natural anthem. It’s sings the cause in praise of the Cause that is itself the Cause. It’s the humming of things as they are and the things to come. And all of this includes you, that’s the big promise that makes you feel so signed on. When you finally hear the song being sung directly and solely to you that when it kicks in and you’re enlisted. That’s the swelling, the rising, the lofting over levee of surge that’s so sweetly run away. Because you’re on it, the water in your cells is of it’s flow, you are not mere jetsam but actually part of the big physics that is the tidal pull this very moment. Your are there, which is there Here and is Now, and there’s a song banging the triumph of the army of your new induction. You’re there, Here, with her. And her fame, her Monstrous Fame, is floating all boats higher and that tsunami-lurch upward, forward!, is so cunning and clean because it has you aspiring to your highest self, the best of what you can foster, all that is best in you like all that good fashion in her. All the way you were born, your giftedness, is called on in service. And where last week you were thinking through the small steps, now with her song bloomed broad upon you, you’re ripping open your chest and committing your valor and heart’s spur to all that is greatest in your ken, because you’ve got that song in you and that song rings like twinkling dear celestial spheres, like birds of the morning cracking open the dark, like the un-matted eye of less sleep now waking into full wakefulness in the dawn of your new resolve at creation, like a new handsome bag full of tools at your disposal and the measurements cribbed from some David’s tab chart and with your faithful building you’ll hammer out song too, because she’s laid the eggs with all those little hatchling Monsters flooding out and you’ve got all that music in you. Which puts you at the center of the Universe. Which puts you in the Birth. Which makes you kin and ken to all that is the nylon and filament of this marvelous cloak of sound and fashion in the canon’s praise. You are entering with Her into the immortal place of Pop gone global. You’re hooked, by that simple hook. Because it’s the sound of the times. Because the way of your birth is what makes you ready to receive this Monster. Because you can’t sleep and you needn’t eat and all that you are is coming out anew. Because you too are on the Edge of Glory.

Water fowl.

It’s said that they take to you with life long loving, and certainly, even now, as you leave the room, you leave them with longing.

This was a really nice opportunity to reminisce on a life I led so long ago. Pearlman’s got a good blog and I was happy to contribute the wonderings of my lost and sketchy memory to it. Life it good. Has been. Will be. Dig it HERE.

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Dig our new Skyfarm watch dogs in the making!

Henri Cartier-Bresson The Decisive Moment