Hey, hey, my, my. Rock and Roll will never…

by Celestial Wilde

 

Tom Petty. Greg Allman. David Bowie. Can you believe the amazing amount of talent that we have lost recently? I find it very sad that there is no longer any hope of smoking a joint with Tom, or doing shots with Greg, or sharing a wild evening in bed with David and his super hot, smoking sexy wife. Not that these things would actually happen in my life, but now….well none of them are any longer an option. How sad. I fear for who we will lose next. So many artists over the years, influential in my life and the lives of others in so many different ways. Rock music is more than all that. It is so transcendent….setting a mood, telling a story, an emotional outlet and thus a way of life.

I consider myself a rocker chic. Not a leather wearing biker chic type, love them, not a thing wrong with them, but me, I do love it all. Sex, drugs and rock and roll. My dream date ends in Led Zeppelin on the stereo and me hitting a beautiful glass water bong while riding on a stiff cock. Leave anything out of that equation, and the moment changes completely. I remember a Tom Petty concert that I attended with my first husband. It was my birthday and on the way to the concert I told him what I really wanted as my gift that night, some pussy. We found it, took a lovely lady home with us for the evening. What a night! But it wouldn’t been the same kind of night if hadn’t been for that show. Tom was incredible.

I remember the music that was playing the first time that I got high. Now, this wasn’t the first time that I smoked. In my case at least; I didn’t get high the first few times. But the first time that I actually recall feeling that glorious euphoria, and actually relaxing and being in the moment, Black Sabbath’s, “Paranoid” album was on the stereo. We were playing the actual vinyl, people still did that back then. Looking back I can actually say that without that particular piece of music playing the moment would have been a completely different experience. Anyone who has ever listened to that album, and I hope that is most or all of you, knows exactly what I mean.

Music sets a stage and delivers a mind set. I listen to 50 cent and DMX when I am angry. I listen to Sade and Chris Isaak when I’m feeling romantic. If the Rolling Stones, The Doors, Yes, or King Crimson are coming from my speakers then I can guarantee you that I’m stoned. (Oh hell, I’m usually stoned) Neil Young and Bob Dylan bring about feelings of nostalgia, and The Grateful Dead make me feel very young and stupid again.

I work, I write, I get high, keep my house clean, be a mother and cook. All of these things have a soundtrack all their own that plays in my head, when I can I incorporate music into all of them. The album Tommy, by The Who, played in its entirety is the perfect background for long slow sensual massages and slow steamy sex, and The Talking Heads are always good company while making dinner. I myself have no musical talent, I’m not that kind of artist, but I will always consider myself a rocker chic.

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