Placement
Now, Vince Neil, whom we all recognize as one of the fathers of modern day gen-x culture, once said that he's "A dreamer..." but his "...heart's of gold." Immediately recognizable is the fact that this, at least to me, is a bit contradictory. I mean, if you're a dreamer, you get extra pats on the back and plenty of light-hearted comments insisting that you do have a heart of gold. So, when vince says, "but my heart's of gold," it just makes me confused and irritates my bowels. The only way Vince saves face (even though he was also in that one homemade porno that did him severe injustice) is that the song is in fact a perfect example of our modern day culture, and hence solidifies him as a father of it.
Why? You ask. Wasn't Vince Neil supposed to fight Axl Rose once? Yes. But that's beside the point. We can argue about this later. I mean, about what significance that event had. And believe me, we will argue about it, because I'm convinced the event has a lot to do with the current relations between us. Anyway, the significance of this song is that many of us claim to be dreamers. Few of us are. Many people now, maybe not any differently from the past, like to get on what I call the Crazy Train. Now, Ozzy Osbourne was also influential to people of the x-generation, but since he also influenced baby-boomers and those in between, his contributions must be disregarded. Again, we can discuss that later. So, for that reason we'll refer to the Crazy Train, simply as "the wagon," so as to not make any further irrelavant references. This wagon acts much more like a station wagon with false wooden paneling than any actual wagon you might see. It's large, and there's a seemingly endless expanse between the back hatch and front bench seat. The bench seat alone seems far to high to negotiate. And, in fact, it is. Also the station wagon is old enough to have cigarette lighters in the back seat, many of them exposed to the passengers, and malfunctioning. They will burn.
As gen-x'ers, some of us (Am I even in this generation? ...should have researched that before laying the fingers to the board) like to believe we're dreamers. But, we're encouraged to hop in the back of the wagon, something that's so tempting; it's warmth provides comfort in the winter, and panoramic views in the summer. The old man driving encourages us the most. He's got a strong smile, and smells of Stetson and butterscotch candy. He even pops the back hatch for us. Since your far from home and without a ride anyway, it seems like huge victory. If you were choosing your own adventure, the other option would be to walk home in the dark, cold air of November.
A great deal indeed, but what the old man fails to explain is that he's going to go real fast, and that the only seatbelt is in the front seat. Also, since he's older, his skills are lacking, and he still enjoys the taste of gravel dust. He breathes it deeply and obtains energy. But, for the first few miles you're still on city streets, rolling through the Dairy Queen drive through, and whistling to the radio at stoplights. You could still bail out. But, you're only at the truckstop where nobody should ever be stranded, and still miles from home. As the speed and danger increase in proporiton to one another, the best plan you figure, is to work your way towards the front to capture the safety of the seatbelt. But, what you didn't count on were the other people in the car. The station wagon is big, and they were hard to notice. The middle seat is packed full, and everyone's using each other for leverage to scale the bench seat wall. Some people are badly roasted on lighters, others are too close to the unsealed floor and receive heavy doses of carbon monoxide. Some flee or are forced out of the windows and are viewed from behind rolling to bloody stops. Once trapped in the middle range of the wagon, there is no escape. And, to cap it all, you will never actually be driven home as you once thought. That's because the intentions of an old man that persuades you to get in his car are never to get you home. You should have known that.
Looking back from the middle seat as you take a crushing, you realize the only real hope was to stay at the back of the wagon. After all, nobody has yet made it to the front seat, and the seatbelt is broken there anyway. The dream was invisible. The back, although unsafe and quite uncomfortable at times, always provides a possible alternative. The back hatch is weak. A chance can be taken. The dreamer near the hatch is distinctly different from the dreamer in the mid section. The heart can still remain gold back there, but not in the middle. And so, as Vince said, and in the end was right, he was on his way... on his way, home sweet home. If you remain in the back, you always have your chance to get there. As for me, I may regret getting in the wagon, but at the time I did think it would be easier to get a ride. I was naive, but in my defense, my knees were in terrible shape. However, I plan to remain in the back. One day I may get the courage to take my dive out.
Why? You ask. Wasn't Vince Neil supposed to fight Axl Rose once? Yes. But that's beside the point. We can argue about this later. I mean, about what significance that event had. And believe me, we will argue about it, because I'm convinced the event has a lot to do with the current relations between us. Anyway, the significance of this song is that many of us claim to be dreamers. Few of us are. Many people now, maybe not any differently from the past, like to get on what I call the Crazy Train. Now, Ozzy Osbourne was also influential to people of the x-generation, but since he also influenced baby-boomers and those in between, his contributions must be disregarded. Again, we can discuss that later. So, for that reason we'll refer to the Crazy Train, simply as "the wagon," so as to not make any further irrelavant references. This wagon acts much more like a station wagon with false wooden paneling than any actual wagon you might see. It's large, and there's a seemingly endless expanse between the back hatch and front bench seat. The bench seat alone seems far to high to negotiate. And, in fact, it is. Also the station wagon is old enough to have cigarette lighters in the back seat, many of them exposed to the passengers, and malfunctioning. They will burn.
As gen-x'ers, some of us (Am I even in this generation? ...should have researched that before laying the fingers to the board) like to believe we're dreamers. But, we're encouraged to hop in the back of the wagon, something that's so tempting; it's warmth provides comfort in the winter, and panoramic views in the summer. The old man driving encourages us the most. He's got a strong smile, and smells of Stetson and butterscotch candy. He even pops the back hatch for us. Since your far from home and without a ride anyway, it seems like huge victory. If you were choosing your own adventure, the other option would be to walk home in the dark, cold air of November.
A great deal indeed, but what the old man fails to explain is that he's going to go real fast, and that the only seatbelt is in the front seat. Also, since he's older, his skills are lacking, and he still enjoys the taste of gravel dust. He breathes it deeply and obtains energy. But, for the first few miles you're still on city streets, rolling through the Dairy Queen drive through, and whistling to the radio at stoplights. You could still bail out. But, you're only at the truckstop where nobody should ever be stranded, and still miles from home. As the speed and danger increase in proporiton to one another, the best plan you figure, is to work your way towards the front to capture the safety of the seatbelt. But, what you didn't count on were the other people in the car. The station wagon is big, and they were hard to notice. The middle seat is packed full, and everyone's using each other for leverage to scale the bench seat wall. Some people are badly roasted on lighters, others are too close to the unsealed floor and receive heavy doses of carbon monoxide. Some flee or are forced out of the windows and are viewed from behind rolling to bloody stops. Once trapped in the middle range of the wagon, there is no escape. And, to cap it all, you will never actually be driven home as you once thought. That's because the intentions of an old man that persuades you to get in his car are never to get you home. You should have known that.
Looking back from the middle seat as you take a crushing, you realize the only real hope was to stay at the back of the wagon. After all, nobody has yet made it to the front seat, and the seatbelt is broken there anyway. The dream was invisible. The back, although unsafe and quite uncomfortable at times, always provides a possible alternative. The back hatch is weak. A chance can be taken. The dreamer near the hatch is distinctly different from the dreamer in the mid section. The heart can still remain gold back there, but not in the middle. And so, as Vince said, and in the end was right, he was on his way... on his way, home sweet home. If you remain in the back, you always have your chance to get there. As for me, I may regret getting in the wagon, but at the time I did think it would be easier to get a ride. I was naive, but in my defense, my knees were in terrible shape. However, I plan to remain in the back. One day I may get the courage to take my dive out.
posted by fiestawizard at 11:21 PM
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