I hope I don’t get sued for writing a song called “Black Man,” but the truth is I believe there are beings in every color of the rainbow who live side by side with us humans. And of these vividly colored peoples, the one I think about most frequently is the famous “Black Man,” a jet black figure about 33% larger than a regular person. I think these colored beings might show up in our lives to compensate for our weaknesses. The black man seems strong and protective to me, though also opaque and aloof. But after all he’s part of another world, and “their ways are not our ways.”
One day I was feeling bored, so I decided to summon my guardian animal spirit. I placed a bunch of rabbit figurines on a table along with a candle. I lit the candle and gazed at the rabbits for a half hour while allowing my mind and eyes to go out of focus (there is probably a better way of contacting animal spirits). Then I blew out the candles and went back to being bored.
The next evening, as I was getting out of my car, a half circle of rabbits surrounded me in the parking lot. I didn’t really know what to do. I hadn’t really thought about why I was summoning animal spirits, and felt kind of awkward. I just sat there, with the car door open, staring at the rabbits. After a few minutes of this, I just walked away (guiltily), the rabbits scattering.
Later, I decided to try the same thing with unicorns. I placed unicorn figurines on a table, lit a candle, and proceeded to stare at them through unfocused eyes. But this time I just fell asleep, and I never saw a unicorn either.
Back when I wrote this song, I identified with nuns since I was single, disconnected from the ways of the world, and practicing mortification of the flesh.
I had 2 books in my tiny apartment, 1. The Rules (Time Tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right), and 2. Gandhi’s autobiography, which I used as a reference book for self-torture. I liked the idea that inflicting physical discomfort on myself causing could lead to inner strength and reduce emotional suffering. I was constantly inventing creative new forms of mortification, and kept Gandhi nearby for tips and inspiration.
Some forms were rather mild like substituting a vanilla Slim Fast shake, along with a couple bananas and some butter cookies, for lunch. I chose vanilla, bananas, and butter for their pure nature, but ultimately this form of self-torture was too expensive to keep up. Other ideas I have already written about, like submerging my self (head included) in ice cold baths every morning. Sometimes, I would add actual ice, to make the cold water colder, and it would create quite a pain in my head.
I considered draining the blood out of my big toe, which I read about in an Indian book, but in the end that was too scary. I did drink a bunch of Epsom salts, which are supposed to clean your stomach by making you throw up (another Indian idea). But after drinking them I couldn’t bring myself to throw up, so I just sat around feeling nauseated instead. Many of my greatest ideas seemed to come from Indian sources, like putting melted butter in your eyes to give them a sparkle. I don’t know if it made my eyes shinier, but it did make it harder to see.
This is a morality song about the Vanderlus, an ordinary confederate couple with the classic southern problems of over-exuberance, intolerance of boredom, and a proclivity for jumping back and forth between the fire and the frying pan.
City people are different from the rest of us, because they feel they have options. Their minds are in two places at once- half on what they are doing, and half on all the other things they COULD be doing. In the country you think, “Yay, I have a husband, and he is way better than nothing!” but in the city you might think, “Hmmm… could I be kissing Rod Hotwings right now if I weren’t tied down to this guy?”
To make matters worse, cities lead to hierarchies, so it’s not just that you could be with someone different, you could be with someone better. Someone richer, funnier, more metrosexual… Whereas in the country, people see themselves more as puzzle pieces. When two puzzle pieces fit together, you know things are as good as they’re going to get.
A picture of Garth Brooks on a mountain path in Mexico. Did he manage to escape the Nashville Blackbird?
A song about the Mexican Fire Bird… a gigantic orange bird who helps people escape constrained, repressive circumstances (including prison). The Mexican Fire Bird frequently guides people out west to where the grid of the earth is wide and spacious and they can once again take deep breaths of exhilaration and adventure.
The Mexican Fire Bird has many friends, but also enemies, including one black bird so large he is the size of four cars (and bigger when his wings are spread.) He snatches musicians with his beak and carries them way up high, so high that everyone can see them, a shining star at last, until he drops them onto a large pile of rocks by a creek somewhere in Henderson County, Tennessee. After that, I don’t know what happens… probably he eats their remains.
Some people say this black bird makes his nest on top of the large bat building in downtown Nashville. But at any rate, he is a sworn enemy to the Mexican Fire Bird. Because the Mexican Fire Bird teaches people to seek the fire within, and the Nashville Blackbird can only prey on those looking to find fire in other peoples’ eyes.
At the time I wrote this song I had a pink snake named Little Bun. She looked like a very long and thin hot dog bun. I thought having one animal from each of the animal kingdoms would bring me good luck in life. It is hard to say if it worked. I loved Little Bun but never got over the fear of her biting me. Sometimes, when entering a public situation where I felt nervous or awkward, I would take her with me and let her discreetly twine around my arm. My fear of her biting me caused my social anxieties to fade somewhat.
I painted this when Little Bun died. I like to think it is a picture of her crossing the river that leads to the next world. Goodbye Little Bun!
I hope I don’t get sued for writing a song called “Black Man,” but the truth is I believe there are beings in every color of the rainbow who live side by side with us humans. And of these vividly colored peoples, the one I think about most frequently is the famous “Black Man,” a jet black figure about 33% larger than a regular person. I think these colored beings might show up in our lives to compensate for our weaknesses. The black man seems strong and protective to me, though also opaque and aloof. But after all he’s part of another world, and “their ways are not our ways.”
