From: owner-alloy-digest@smoe.org (alloy-digest) To: alloy-digest@smoe.org Subject: alloy-digest V2 #55 Reply-To: alloy@smoe.org Sender: owner-alloy-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-alloy-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk X-To-Unsubscribe: Send mail to "alloy-digest-request@smoe.org" X-To-Unsubscribe: with "unsubscribe" as the body. alloy-digest Wednesday, March 26 1997 Volume 02 : Number 055 Today's Subjects: ----------------- Re: Alloy: Reprise [Paul Baily ] Re: Alloy: Reprise (and ILYG) [Paul Baily ] Alloy: I Love You Goodbye [Paul Baily ] Re: Alloy: I Love You Goodbye [RThurF@aol.com] Alloy: Freezing In Their Spam Tins, again ["Melissa R. Jordan" ] Re: Alloy: I Love You Goodbye [Thomas Slack ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 25 Mar 97 23:25:30 +1000 From: Paul Baily Subject: Re: Alloy: Reprise >I've always felt very emotionally about the song One of our Submarines, and >wonder what brought on that particular creative urge on Thomas' part (a true >story? or did he just have cool submarine noises on his synth he wanted to >try?) I'd love to hear more either way. The song has always been a real >favorite of mine. I recall hearing somewhere that this track was partially inspired by an incident involving one of Thomas' Uncles who apparently disappeared under very similar circumstances whilst serving on a submarine in WWII. Could be wrong though. If you want a fascinating new slant on the story, our very own Ms. Melissa Jordan has an amazing personal account of how she met by accident some Russian (or was it Soviet at that time?) submariners in a very candid and touching manner. That, together with a news story of an incident involving submarines in the same area a short time later. Sorry for dropping you in it Melissa but that story is too good to post only once - I'd quote it here 'cept my Mac had other ideas about how it should store that message. :-) Any chance you could repost? stay well, Paul. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 25 Mar 97 23:25:28 +1000 From: Paul Baily Subject: Re: Alloy: Reprise (and ILYG) >Hey yeah, let's start lobbying for that sorta-promised small-club maybe >acoustic show. Please /please/ someone make sure if it ever happens that it's recorded! Those of us living in distant colonial (or baltic for that matter - hi Melissa!) outposts would love to hear it. Paul. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 25 Mar 97 23:25:33 +1000 From: Paul Baily Subject: Alloy: I Love You Goodbye >I still wonder about that song, all the time. What is it about that song. >Is it the song, or the way I think of the song. Maybe that's why I never >got an answer to my question, "why was it written and was it a true >story." Maybe I'm better off not knowing, so that it's my interpretation >that stays with me, which I can change any time I want to imagine >something different. FWIW, I think that's the crucial thing about this song. [this is all IMHO by the way, feel free to jump in with a fresh interpretation] Like all fine works of art, it leaves the interpretation and the relevance to the listener. Think about it a bit: most songs these days (and apologies for the generalisation) depict a fairly specific set of circumstances that you're left to try and relate to. I Love You Goodbye doesn't do that. It eloquently - and sharply - portrays a number of experiences but only to relay the essence. That the said experiences are precious. Irreplaceable. "Nobody ever normally goes bowling on a Friday morning in New Orleans. But I like to come here to remember the kind of places you took me." It could be about a close friend or soulmate you lost touch with due to circumstance, and yes, it could be about a lost or unrealised love. I like to think I'm amongst good friends here so I'll say this: it could be supposed that the only truly perfect love is the one that's never fully realised - you never have to deal with that person's human failings, nor they yours. I'm by no means saying the real thing is any less, but imagination is boundless in it's ability to extrapolate. Understated in parts, but there is the unmistakable 'what if' and 'if only' about it. 'nuff said. Paul. ________________________________________________________________________ Paul Baily paulb@thehub.com.au Consulting SE/IT contractor http://www.thehub.com.au/~paulb Brisbane, Australia There is a spirit here that won't be broken. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 25 Mar 1997 09:46:38 -0500 (EST) From: RThurF@aol.com Subject: Re: Alloy: I Love You Goodbye In a message dated 3/25/97 8:27:47 AM, Paul wrote: <<...it could be supposed that the only truly perfect love is the one that's never fully realised - you never have to deal with that person's human failings, nor they yours. I'm by no means saying the real thing is any less, but imagination is boundless in it's ability to extrapolate. Understated in parts, but there is the unmistakable 'what if' and 'if only' about it.>> Imagination is boundless, but getting to know people as individuals I have found them to be so much more interesting than I might ever have merely imagined them to be on my own. The unrequited love thing is a romantic notion, as you say, because you never got to know the less appealing aspects of their personality. However, the most essential element of truly 'perfect love' is good friendship, through which you know loads of stuff about the other person, and they about you, and not all of it moonlight & roses. This is why the song "Europa and the Pirate Twins" makes me so sad! They were really friends (as children), then she doesn't even remember him years later!! Robin :) ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 25 Mar 1997 10:28:42 -0500 From: "Melissa R. Jordan" Subject: Alloy: Freezing In Their Spam Tins, again At 11:25 PM 3/25/97 +1000, Paul wrote: >If you want a fascinating new slant on the story, our very own Ms. >Melissa Jordan has an amazing personal >account of how she met by accident some Russian (or was it Soviet at that >time?) submariners... Hello, Paul! They were still Soviet at that point, but the empire was well crumbling away by then. I had to go hunting through the piles of files in my computer, but I found my "submarine" posting - to be honest, I thought I'd lost it, along with the one I posted about "Flying North" and my mom, but - lo and behold! - - I still have 'em. My submarine story is reposted below. (And thanks for nice words, Paul - I always worry that I bore people to death with my stories...) Cheers, Melissa "One of Our Submarines" has been going through my head for more than two weeks now, since I received two submarine-related phone calls. First, a colleague from Vladivostok (a former Soviet "spetsnats" or Green Beret) rang to tell me he was in the 'States, and he'd brought model submarines from the Russian Pacific Fleet boat-building school for a friend. Then, I got a call from a man I call "Blinky Bob" (long story) who worked with me in Moscow a few years back. In a moment of bizarre inspiration in 1989, Bob asked me if I'd like to go to Murmansk (Russian seaport above the Arctic Circle) for New Year's Eve. I thought, what the hell - why not go to a bleak Russian city experiencing its season of total darkness - the Northern Lights would be cool, and the Soviets - even when dead broke - put on one hell of a fireworks display for New Year's. First off - and maybe Lissu (if she's reading this) can affirm this - total darkness during the day really means something more like total ...greyness. It's hard to accurately describe - like walking through a world the color of thick volcanic ash. There wasn't much to do in Murmansk, except wander through the strange little shops in town. The main department store was loaded with really odd things (like inflatable rubber lobsters - don't ask me why) that the locals were buying in a consumer goods-crazed frenzy. The shop was crowded, and, to escape the sweaty, steamy holiday hordes, Blinky Bob and I escaped through a back door. What we found outside the door blew me away. We were right on a waterfront - - and there were six black submarines lined up along the water's edge. I was freaked out. Bob, being less circumspect than I, just yelled, "Oh my god!" This got the attention of the dozen or so submariners repairing and cleaning the ships. They stared at us like we were aliens just beamed down from space; regardless of what you wear, it's not tough for a Russian to spot a Westerner, and they knew we weren't Soviet. These guys just dropped everything they were doing and came running toward us. I thought we'd just violated some sort of military territory, and we were going to be arrested. Bob and I just stood stock still like deer in headlights. They were all skinny and pale - cadaverous, really. They all had these hollow, black-circled eyes I can still see. They looked unreal, especially in the ash grey light. I got goosebumps. But, I have to say, they were friendly - waving, asking where we were from. As young, foreign pseudo-diplomats, we were both hesitant to communicate, but we finally gave up our isolationist attitudes when one of the sailors came up and shook our hands and hugged us. They all seemed much younger than I was (25) at the time. They were starving - both literally for decent food and for some human interaction. They'd all been out for six months, and they hadn't had any communication from their families in all that time - because of bizarre Soviet restrictions, their communications were still cut off while in Murmansk, a "strategic port." We took pictures. I wished that I had things to give all of them. I only had a couple of U.S. Embassy keychains in my handbag, and I gave them out quietly to two of the more talkative sailors. Then, we took pictures with Bob's 35-mm. This brought smiles to all of them. There we were, 2 Americans surely in a place we weren't supposed to be (thank god our KGB tails were probably getting trashed for the holidays), talking to military personnel we probably weren't supposed to be talking to, taking flash photos of Soviet subs in the grey darkness. I didn't care - these people seemed so miserable - I figured it was all the holiday they were going to get. When we left, they all looked so dejected. I can't imagine the horrors of living six months in a Soviet submarine. I've been on board one, and I only lasted a few minutes before claustrophobia set in. About two months after I saw those poor guys, I heard from one of the military attaches that there'd been a hush-hush submarine accident somewhere near Murmansk, resulting in the deaths of many submariners. I got chills thinking of those kids trapped in some sinking, seeping coffin. Just after I heard about the incident, we had a massive fire at the embassy, and all my photos from Murmansk were destroyed. Whenever I hear "One of Our Submarines," I think of those young, hungry-looking, sad men, and I wonder if they're all okay. ...Well... I reckon I've expelled that demon from my head... Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with a new song in my brain... - ------------------- Melissa R. Jordan - ------------------- Special Projects Manager International Programs Office Goodwill Industries International, Inc. (301) 881-6858 (phone) (301) 881-9435 (fax) ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 25 Mar 1997 10:57:28 -0500 From: "Melissa R. Jordan" Subject: Alloy: Somewhere in clubland >>Hey yeah, let's start lobbying for that sorta-promised small-club maybe >>acoustic show. > >Please /please/ someone make sure if it ever happens that it's recorded! >Those of us living in distant colonial (or baltic for that matter - hi >Melissa!) outposts would love to hear it. If it happens, I'd go even deeper into debt to buy a plane ticket to be there... Although... such an event would also give me a good reason to finally do the coast-to-coast "See America" road trip... So, Thomas, please - do it before my 9-year-old car gives up the ghost! Cheers, Melissa - ------------------- Melissa R. Jordan - ------------------- Special Projects Manager International Programs Office Goodwill Industries International, Inc. (301) 881-6858 (phone) (301) 881-9435 (fax) ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 25 Mar 1997 17:51:07 +0500 (EST) From: Thomas Slack Subject: Re: Alloy: I Love You Goodbye First Paul wrote: > ...it could be supposed that the only truly perfect love is the one that's > never fully realised - you never have to deal with that person's human > failings, nor they yours. I'm by no means saying the real thing is any > less, but imagination is boundless in it's ability to extrapolate. Then Robin wrote: > Imagination is boundless, but getting to know people as individuals I have > found them to be so much more interesting than I might ever have merely > imagined them to be on my own. The unrequited love thing is a romantic > notion, as you say, because you never got to know the less appealing aspects > of their personality. However, the most essential element of truly 'perfect > love' is good friendship, through which you know loads of stuff about the > other person, and they about you, and not all of it moonlight & roses... While I somewhat agree with both of these eleoquently written diatribes, I guess my own feelings lie somewhere between the two. The notion of a perfect love is somewhat elusive- as in any other area, if we were able to achieve perfection, we'd probably exist on some other astral plane instead of being stuck here on this flat earth. So, our imagination jumps at the chance to fill in the gaps of missing knowledge with 'perfect' details- and in the arena of love, that can be oh so much fun! (maybe I just have a fertile imagination). Anyway, we all know that the lasting kind of love is the kind based on the reality of true friendship. I think that I Love You Goodbye is a bittersweet song, because it is written from the perspective of being truly in love, but never having the chance to see the reality of it played out. Tom ------------------------------ End of alloy-digest V2 #55 **************************