Don't know what you got till it's gone
Don't know what it is I did so wrong
Now I know what I got, it's just this song
And it ain't easy to get back, takes so long
- Cinderella
In the shade of every moment I bled
Such a sorrow was to be expected
I let a good thing go
- Gemma Hayes
Some things crossing my mind of late, other than the fast-approaching 33 1/3 deadline (but not to worry, I'm nearly done my bold and impossible to ignore pitch): getting ready to leave Korea, the Korean (read: human) desire to neglect nature and heritage in the face of progress, occasional thoughts about death, Clive James' recent panning of Borges' character, how much I hate taking the last bite of a great meal and why Mike Vernon wasn't so bad afterall. No, not much of note kicking around inside the onion these days.
But these thoughts - even the 33 1/3 pitch - are linked by longing for something gone that wasn't particularly revered at the time. This is what I just started calling the Grain Elevator Paradox: only in the face of extinction do we realise just how much something means to us (I like to think this applies to the Borges essay in that only in his final days did he begin to accept democracy and the will of the people - it took his decline for his perception of the real world to be redeemed).
I used to mock grain elevators and now wish for the days when I still could. Passing by a tiny hamlet like Turin, Alberta, I could joke that it had more grain elevators than people; nowadays there are more obese mayors in your average small town (ie one) than there are monuments to Alberta Wheat Pool glory. Ironically, it takes mass destruction for people to finally appreciate what they otherwise didn't care about.
And the same thing seems to be happening here in Korea but you wonder if it's all too late. As I mentioned last time, the economy is starving and it's gotta be fed: too bad it has to be on anything old and traditional (couldn't they tear down, say, a few of Korea's hideous churches?). Strange such a proud people won't do anything.
Back to the 33 1/3 pitch...do you think people will buy a book all about a Cinderella album?
2 comments:
Hey! Ho! I'd buy a sparky Cinderella text, to remind me why I didn't like Cinderella so much even when I thought Glam Rock and having a pickle in yer purple pants were the best of bestest things.
Now then, Joc and I actually submitted to 33 1/3. I chose Charles Mingus Presents Charles Mingus (Money Jungle is technically an Ellington album, so I thought that would be safe . . . plus, I can't resist the urge to write about Original Faubus Fables Oooooh Lord, no more Swastikas!). Joc chose Proxima Estacion Esperenza by Manu Chao. 'twould be nice to have some world music in the mix, methinks.
When you are home? We can Tubby Dawg, Sheesha, and Jazz it up. Oh, and Oat Sodas? Caucasians? We'll keep 'em coming, Gary.
Also, I have some nice pics of grain elevators that Joc and I took when we were in Fort Macleod last July. Like taking pictures of Pandas, so that when they go extinct, we can all look back and go "aaaw. They were so cute. Why'd they go?"
Oh yeah, i remember. Industry killed the Panda and the Grain Elevator. But gaudy churches, Paul, are here to stay. Forever.
We don't know what we got until it's gone, unless it's cute and can sell mugs and t-shirts and stuffed toys. However, product potential can never beat pure ol' resource gluttony in terms of profit.
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