I watched videos like a madwoman on MTV and memorized them like I memorized song lyrics.
When I heard the song on the radio or on one of my albums I could replay the videos in my mind along with the music. It was like I had a television chip implanted in my brain with one awesome channel on it.
One hour a week I would put the song and the video in my head on a loop.
That hour was called MASS. We were Catholic, so my major zone out times started at the gospel and ended at the sermon. Bonus zone out times included baptisms of babies, confirmations, and midnight mass on Christmas Eve.
Only in my mind, the videos started out as they were on MTV, then veered off into my own little fantasy world. Most ended with Mick and I getting married or doing the deed. I had snuck downstairs at three a.m. enough times to see various Porky's movies on HBO to have a general idea as to what "the deed" actually was.
And Mick and I did the deed. A lot.
Start Me Up.
In my church-fantasy the rest of the band wasn't there - it was just Mick singing to me in that tight, lavender t-shirt and white pants combo, jumping and posing around me like he does at the beginning of the video. We would both giggle and flirt and he would sing to me- he would grab me and pull me close, put his hands on his hips and tell me how I'd made a "grown man cry." I would also make his "eyes dilate and lips go green." Then that part at the end - about making a "dead man cum" - I made a mental deal with God that if I didn't sing that part in my head during church it was ok. But every time I got to that part of the song in my head sitting on that hard pew I struggled, quite a bit.
It's Only Rock and Roll.
Oh my God they are wearing sailor suits - even Charlie. In my version I envisioned myself in a little navy and white sailor suit with long legs like a pony dancing with Mick. At the end of the video the circus tent they are playing fills up completely with bubbles.
|I like it.|
|Yes I do.|
I was horsing around with the rest of the band, we were all throwing foam at each other, when Mick and I get into a little playful tussle of our own. Then a major make out session begins. The other members of the band disappear under the bubbles and Mick and I make out for the remainder of the sermon. I mean the song. Hello, sailor.
Didn't need to go too far in my mind during this one. Mick was my "knight in shining armour," coming to my emotional rescue. Creepy weird video where the band is seen all x-ray like and Mick is singing falsetto. I was all computerized too (I looked good) and there was lots of crawling in dark rooms involved in this one. Mick crawling toward me, me crawling toward Mick, more make outs, more colored lines and falsetto uh-hoo, uh-hoo-hoo, uh-hoo-hoo-hoo's.
On Christmas and at Easter - and whenever else I manage to drag myself out of bed on a Sunday morning to get to church - I still think about Mick, all these years later. Mick and Mass go together.
The thing about Catholic Mass no matter where in the world you go, it is the same, consistent always. The welcome, the readings, the gospel, the sermon, the communion, the end. It always feels like coming home to me.
Having Mick come to my Emotional Rescue in my head during the sermon also feels like coming home.
Lord, (and Mick) hear my prayer.
|You can't always get what you want.|
|But if you try sometimes...you might find...|
|...you get what you need.|