"What’s the most memorable place you’ve cried in New York? (Be specific!)"

The NYT is soliciting stories about crying in the city. Fill out the form they have at "New Yorkers, Where’s the Best Place to Cry in the City? To help us report an upcoming article, we want to hear about all the places you’ve cried — subways, sidewalks, stoops, saunas and beyond."

I know from listening to pop songs over the years that the best place to cry is in the rain.

You cry in the rain so no one can tell you're crying. Similar but importantly different is "Raindrops" by Dee Clark. There, the man is crying, but he's in denial: "Oh no, it can't be teardrops/For a man ain't supposed to cry." It's not raining at all.

And here's Flight of the Conchords playing with the same idea:

There's also the situation where it really is raining and you nevertheless are perfectly aware that a person is crying. Most notably: "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain."

"Writing a song like this can be deceptively easy. First you assemble a laundry list of things people hate."

"For the most part, people are not going to like war, starvation, death, prejudice and the destruction of the environment. Then there’s the trap of easy rhymes. Revolution/evolution/air pollution. Segregation/demonstration. John Lennon got away with it by using his cheeky sense of humor to create a postmodern campfire song all about bag-ism and shag-ism. But in less sure hands one might as well write about the periodic table of elements with built-in rhymes about calcium, chromium and lithium."

Writes Bob Dylan, in "The Philosophy of Modern Song" (p. 78). 

The song under discussion there is "Ball of Confusion"....

 

... which he connects to "Give Peace a Chance"...

"We can be whatever we have the courage to see."

That's called "A Message From the Future With Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez."

Meade watched that over my shoulder as I played it. I was fascinated by how fast that hand could paint, and I guess if I had the courage to see my own hand painting that fast, I could speed paint perfectly too — and without ever dipping the brush in paint or cleaning it between colors.

As for Meade, he made it hard to hear the audio track, because he insisted on singing this song:

I'm doing fine on Cloud 9...
You can be what you wanna be
Cloud 9
You ain't got no responsibility
Cloud 9
Every man in his mind is free
Cloud 9
You're a million miles from reality
Cloud 9
You can be what you wanna be
I'm feeling fine on Cloud 9

2 clouds with the same number.

I'm watching those right now as a consequence of a conversation I started on Facebook, which began:

I'm thinking of the old Rolling Stones song "Get Off of My Cloud," because I'm aware of my own instinct to step on the clouds of others. Even though you can't step on a cloud. I'm cynical re clouds. Joni Mitchell sang "Clouds got in my way." No, they didn't. But if you'd like to say I need to stop thinking about all those songs from the 1960s, get off of my cloud.

Pick a cloud.

George Harrison's "Cloud Nine."

The Temptations' "Cloud Nine."

Joni Mitchell's clouds ("Both Sides Now").

The Rolling Stones' "Get Off of My Cloud."

 

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