Rhythm Brothers

My friend Mike is one of the best bass players I've ever worked with. Him and I create a positively kick ass rhythm section. This shot was taken at The Courtyard in Cataumet, circa 2004, during a gig. I love this dude very much.

True Love And Spinal Tap

       Attending summer school in July of 1984 at Villanova, my good buddy and roommate Billy suggested we go see a movie called This Is Spinal Tap, which was playing at a small independent theatre near South Street in Philadelphia. This was the hip, artsy section of the city. So one night we drove down in Billy’s big white Mercury Cougar and sat through what ended up being a watershed event of my life.
       The movie was a magic symphony that struck my entire being, like that one loud, powerful, note that shatters the glass. This Is Spinal Tap  sympathetically resonated with my very essence. That’s what great art does. Whether it’s a song, a movie, a painting, a book, or the love of your life who you want to share it all with. Your very self resonates with a beauty and a force that can not be contained. It’s magic.      
       I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen the movie since then. But I do know that, without exaggeration, I can quote virtually every line of the entire picture; and not only can I quote it, but I can duplicate the nuances, inflections, and timing of the lines as well. It’s more like, when I choose to, I can breathe the movie out of me. Because the movie is so completely in me. Like air.
       Last night, I saw the movie again, after having not seen it in years. And on the big screen to boot, which I hadn’t done since the summer of 1988 at The Kenmore Theater in Boston (that viewing is another story in itself). Last night in Coolidge Corner, I saw it with my twin brother and a bunch of his friends. Mike and I laughed so hard I thought one of us would pass out.
       How the hell can I laugh so hard at a movie that I’ve seen so many times that I don’t see anything new anymore? I know what’s coming. I know when it’s coming. I know how it’s coming. And yet I respond like it’s all happening for the first time. What would I call that? True Love.
       True Love, of anybody, or of any work of art, strikes you on a level that’s not completely perceptible or understandable. But only if you allow yourself to be struck that way. Some people never allow themselves to be struck like that, by anybody or by anything. Some people have great difficulty allowing themselves to be that vulnerable. Where they let their insides be so exposed as to be so touched by another or by art that they feel a vibration that shakes them to their core. It’s a scary thing. For all of us. But that vulnerability is essential if you want to be moved on this level.
       I’ve been all over the spectrum of vulnerability, from walled off shut down to raw nerves feeling every breeze of emotion. And I know I can help people open up, access their vulnerability, and thus allow themselves to be profoundly touched and moved.
       I don’t know if they’ll connect to “Spinal Tap”, but I know they can connect to themselves. To their feelings. To their life. And that’s magic.


©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All Rights Reserved.

Gym eMotion

       Working out is a way of life for some of us. We actually miss the sweat, strain, and minor pain of pushing our bodies past every day use. When I’m in a groove I rarely miss a day of exquisite physical excursion. Habit becomes routine. Routine becomes lifestyle. Lifestyle becomes A Way Of Life.
       Besides the great rush that exercise gives me, I sometimes experience another phenomenon while exercising. I sometimes become very emotional.
       When we exercise, things are shaking and moving and changing within us physiologically. We’re increasing our heart rate, pumping more blood through our body, changing oxygen levels, blood pressure, and a host of other biological mechanizations.
       Many of us listen to music during exercise. Music can move us. When we are moved, just like when we exercise, there are physiological changes happening inside us. Thus, with both music and exercise, our brain and body chemistry are altered. Combine the two, and the changes are even more profound.
       The double whammy of exercise and music thus have the capacity to stir my insides to a feverish pitch.
       There are times when I’m working out where, irrespective of the amount of weight I’m lifting, I feel incredibly powerful, centered, full of life, completely alive, and, frankly, very fuckin’ cool.
       Other emotions well up sometimes, from deep within me, to right under my skin, to right behind my eyes. A song will remind me of someone in my life who is no longer here. Or I will think of someone I miss very much. Maybe a particular event comes to mind. When any of that happens whilst working out, tears well up and I feel like I could just burst.
       Crying in the gym isn’t something I really want to do. So I grab my towel, cover my face with it, rub away some sweat, and simultaneously quickly cry a few tears. Anybody who happens to be looking at me long enough will see that, when I pull the towel from my face, my eyes are a little redder and shinier than they were just a few seconds ago.
       My close friend Stanley died in a plane crash about a year and a half ago. We had our differencess, and sometimes we fought like brothers. But we loved each other very much. He used to say to me “Clint, you’re the brother I never had”. I miss him. There’s a song that powerfully reminds me of him; The Wreck Of THe Edmund Fitzgerald, by Gordon Lightfoot.
       One warm late summer Saturday night, I was over Stanley’s house with a few girls. Fresh out of his waterfront hot tub, we put on some music. Stanley chose a tape that had the Gordon Lightfoot song on it. I turned to him and said “Dude! I love this song!” He replied “Me too!” We thunderously high-fived each other and continued our love fest review of the song.
       I knew all the words. And there are a lot of words. I was singing them aloud, every word of every verse, throwing in punctuations of drum hits, guitar notes, and other nuances. Stanley was amazed. He repeated, over and over again, like Stanley often did, “I can’t believe you know every word of this song!”. Stanley knew some, but hardly all. He was singing along with me as best he could, often looking at me and repeating what I sang a split second later, like a delayed echo effect through a PA system. We were both acting out the song as well, like a couple of kids. It was one of the funnest moments of my life with Stanley, and that’s saying a mouthful. Because we had a lot of fun moments together. A lot. Some of this spontaneous performance art was even captured on video.
       The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald is on a few of my workout mixes on my iPod. A strange selection, you may think, but it works for me. You should see some of the other choices in music that I work out to. Anyway, when that song comes on whilst working out, it inevitably makes me think of that night. And of Stanley. And how I’ll never have another moment like that with him, ever again.
       A sense of loss and sadness overcomes me a like a giant wave. When I experience those moments outside the gym, I’m sometimes able to ride them out without an outward expression. Not because I don’t want to emote, but because I don’t need to. But in the gym, I have much more trouble controlling that wave of emotion. Because of the augmented physiological changes going on inside because of the combination of music and exercise, the emotions are even stronger. At some point, I just can’t hold it in, and it becomes a “Towel To The Face” moment. And it usually happens more than once.
       Far from embarrassed about this, I don't mind it at all. There are many silver linings in this cloud. These silver linings are reminders of the depth and power of my emotional engine, and how that engine propels me to experience a fuller, richer, deeper, more meaningful life. They remind me that I’m connected to my heart, and that that wasn’t always the case. They remind me of how vitally important love is to me. And they remind me of my friend Stanley, how much we loved one another, and how much fun we had together.  
       I’ll pay the price of some tears and a towel to my face for all of that, every time. No matter where I am. Or what I’m doing.


©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All Rights reserved.

Private Dance

       While on my way to my favorite coffee shop on Cape Cod, I heard the song “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees. Like so much of the music I love, it made me want to dance. Dancing, however, wasn’t possible. Not because I was in my car. But because I was driving. So I did the next best thing; I sang, bopped my head, swiveled my hips in the leather seat, and played air drums, air bass, and air guitar. Maybe even some air keyboards. One of my Bottom Lines is that it’s possible to get your groove thang happenin’, no matter what your circumstances.
       Anyway, the classic seventies disco anthem reminded me of an idea I’ve had for a long time, but have yet to realize. I love this idea. It’s simple yet elaborate. Silly yet beautiful. Fun yet intense.
       Many of us love to dance. Yet many are self conscious of dancing in public. Alcohol helps. But sometimes even that’s not enough. If you’re with a partner you find sexy and attractive and fun (and frankly, if you don’t find your partner at least two out of those three, do both yourselves a favor and go find one you do, because you both deserve to be with somebody you find appealing), dancing together can be an amazing mutual experience. It’s exercise. It’s playful. It's joyous. It’s sexy. It can be hours of foreplay. It’s simply too good not to enjoy with the one you love. Or even the one you like.
       I am blessed with good rhythm. And I would describe myself as.....uninhibited. If you haven’t developed a good sense of rhythm and are somewhat inhibited, well dancing in front of a bunch of people can be intimidating. And not very inviting. So as much as it may be something you want to do with your partner, doing it under those circumstances is unlikely. And I completely understand that.
       So, if you can’t bring yourself to the dancing, then bring the dancing to you.
       Create your own disco, just for you and your partner, within your own home, and dance there. If you want to make it a little more social, invite a few couples who you’re really comfortable being with over too.
       Creating your own disco is easy, but there are a few essentials that must be in place for it to succeed. And, given your motivation and the space you have to work with, you can really go to town, to varying degrees, and make this into something really special. Something the two of you will want to create regularly. Potentially an Instant Couples Ritual, or ICR, as I call them. Actually, that’s the first time I ever used the term. But I really like it. So I’m claiming it.
       The first thing you need for a great disco is great music. And “great music” is a completely relative term. You and your partner get to mutually choose what music you want to dance to together. The creation of the set list should be a fun, bonding experience. It can, however, be a source of contention if the two of you have completely incompatible tastes in music. But it’s all good. Because whether you’re both into P-Funk, or he’s a member of The Kiss Army and the most raucous music you’ve ever listened to is Debbie Gibson, it’s an opportunity to practice communication and compromise skills. It’s an opportunity to give to one another. To find out more about each other. An opportunity to work together. Relationship Building 101.
       Sit down, together, with your respective digital music devices, or album collections if your old school, and together create a list of tunes to dance to. Do it over a bottle of wine some night. Make it fun. Make it an opportunity to connect. Make it an opportunity to work things out; to love and support and respect each other. Make it a living example of the axiom “It’s no so much what you do as how you do it”.
       Now you get to create your space. You get to create your disco. This process. and the actual space you create from it, can be simple, or elaborate, or anything in between. It’s totally up to the two of you. You can do it together, or you can delegate it to one partner. Again, use it as an opportunity to work together, however that looks. You’re both building something. Build this wonderful “something” together. And notice how this process simultaneously builds the bond between you. And that’s a beautiful thing.
       No matter what space you create, there are some critical elements that must be in place, besides the mutually created music list. And I’ll delve into those critical elements in my next post.
       One of things you’re building together is anticipation and excitement. Hopefully, I’ve done my job as a writer and created some anticipation and excitement (and curiosity) in you so you’ll tune in for the next installment. Stay Alive.....

©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All Rights Reserved.

The Original Mistress Music

       Recently, I came across something an old girlfriend wrote about me. I’m not going to tell anyone who it was, and I haven’t spoken to her in many moons. Because her anonymity is guaranteed, I’m okay sharing it. And she said if I ever wanted to let people see it, I could, as long as I never, ever, told anyone who wrote it.
       She wrote about me in the third person, because this was a part of her journal, and that’s how she wrote in her journal. I was honored beyond words that she shared this, her most personal of writings, with me. She said it was too good to keep all to herself. My experience is that it's a very flattering observation.
       When I first read it years ago, it almost scared me. She was able to see inside of me so clearly. I felt so exposed and naked. And this was before I was comfortable being that vulnerable. After reading it again now, I am struck by how completely dead on right she is about me. What she said about me then is just as true now. And I realize that her writing was probably the inspiration for my phrase “Mistress Music”, although when I came up with that term, I had totally forgotten about her writing.
       So here it is. A little slice of my reality for all the world to see. By the way, like all my girlfriends, she called me “John”. Not “Clint”.
     
       “Something happens to John when he hears a song that he really loves. Something that doesn’t happen to anybody else I know. He goes into a trance. Suddenly, nothing else in the universe exists, except him and that song. I’ve seen it happen many times. It doesn’t matter where he is when it happens, either. The other day, I saw it happen at a CVS.
       As his girlfriend, it’s a hot, sexy, beautiful, thing to witness. He is so passionate, so totally into that song. I just watch him and smile.
       I have to admit, though, it’s a little scary sometimes as well. Because he goes away so completely, so quickly. All of a sudden, it’s a s though I don’t exist, as though I never existed at all. He’s so consumed by the music. It’s like he’s suddenly making love to that song, his mistress, right in front of me. What woman wants to see that?
       I don’t stay in that scared place long. 'Cuz I realize that, the way he is with that song he loves, is the way he is with me. It’s how he loves. There are lots of times, for example, when we have sex, where I feel like I am the only thing in his world. In those moments, nothing else exists but me. That makes me feel so special. At those times, I am his everything. I am his song. I am the music that enchants him. And I’ve never known anybody who could do that.”

    Amen. And thanx baby.......


©2012 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All Rights Reserved.