#1 We are the Clay Nation. Clay Aiken is ours. Thou shalt not mess with him. Nor with us.
#2 We shall maketh as many images as we please. This is Law in our Nation.
#3 In the Nation of Clay, there is but one Law. “ Thou shalt deal in clack, only in clack and in nothing but clack”.
#4 The Nation keepeth holy the seventh day, and every other day Clay may be in concert. To mess with this shall surely provoke thunder and lightning upon thy head.
#5 Honor those who provide the clack.
# 6 Members of the Nation of Clay are meek and mild mannered and given to loving their fellow man. Unless thou attempteth to take away their clack. Get my point?
#7 Do not assume thou mayst tell the Clay Nation what to do. They march to their own drummer ( whomever Clay has hired this year ) and are faithful to their own Law. ( referst, thou, to commandment # 2) Who art thou that thou shouldst tamper with this? After all, we’re right and thou art - well, wrong.
# 8 The Claymates are not given to that heinous crime that be known as theft . They takest only what is rightfully theirs, after having battled mightily for years, and finally won. Theirs are the spoils of war. This is surely as it should be.
#9 Thou mayst be assured that no Claymate would ever lie. Unless the truth interferes with their gathering of clack.
#10 Claymates covet one thing only. The clack, without which they cannot exist. Give it to them and thou shalt be lauded in the Nation of Clay. Else, thou must, in turn, prepareth thyself for battle.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
Climate Change
The other day a friend emailed me a copy of an article written about the musical with Clay Aiken as the centerpiece that’s now playing off-Broadway, and asked what I thought about it all.
So, seeing as she actually wanted my opinion, I did what I always do when someone expects me to exercise a part of me that doesn’t see much activity: I stared out the window for awhile.
I watched the heat waves shimmering off the hood of a car that had just parked across the street, and wondered why it was so hot. You see, where I live it does not get particularly warm at all. Nor very cold. We live in a moderate climate, the mountains to the back of us protecting us from the harsh winds of winter in Canada and trapping the warm breezes off the Pacific in summer. If you happen to be Canadian, as I am, this is the perfect place to reside. Near idyllic temperatures year round. Never too hot. Never too cold. Pretty much perfect, if you don’t mind that it never stops raining. Except for the past few years. It’s been cold when it should have been warm. It’s been dry when it should have rained. It is now hot in a way I don’t remember it ever being before.
So I stared out the window and listened to the silence brought on by the heat - people were laying low, as was I - and thought of this strange weather we’ve been experiencing, and how the rest of North America seemed to be affected as well in various ways. I wiped the perspiration off my brow, and pulled a sticking blouse away from my chest and went to get my 20th glass of water so far today out of the fridge. I stood with the fridge door open allowing the coolness to wash over me and thought how the climate is changing.
The world is changing. Nothing seems to be the way I have learned to expect. Something is stirring.
The musical is but a small blip on the weather map.
When, in the past, would someone have expected to make money out of a show about a singer who isn’t on top of the game? I admit I know little of New York and what sort of shows are successful there. But I imagine that a producer many have only two choices. Either come up with something using an internationally known star or perhaps a best selling novel as a premise, or come up with a unique slant. A musical using Clay Aiken as the unique slant? How could it work?
He’s not an internationally known star. He hasn’t sold millions upon millions of CDs and played to sold out audiences across the world. He doesn’t even always fill every concert hall in his home country when he goes on tour. His own label had so little faith that they made sure he didn’t win American Idol when all indications were that he should have. They don’t know what to do with him to this day. According to them he should be back home in Raleigh teaching school, having had his 15 minutes.
Yet he’s still out there, and somebody has put together a musical with him as the draw. And what is really strange - the media is giving it - and by extension, Mr. Aiken - their full attention. A virtual flood of it.
Someone questioned Clay Aiken’s sexuality and the blizzards raged for months.
Clay Aiken falls asleep on a plane and it hits the media like a tornado.
Clay Aiken loses his passport and it hits the media like a thunderstorm.
Clay Aiken does a spot on American Idol - what was it? 3 minutes? 2 &1/2? 4? And completely overshadows a mega star like Prince. He wasn’t even introduced. He just walked on stage and the winds blew for a week.
Clay Aiken hasn’t even had a mega hit record yet. On the weather map plotted by Clive Davis to guide his money making stars through the eddy currents of public desire, Aiken’s route probably isn’t even considered. Yet all Clay has to do is stick his head out his window in the morning, and the weather inexplicably changes.
Four years ago only a handful of boards lauded the talents of a certain Mr. Aiken. The media actively ignored him.
Yes, the climate is changing, I thought as I poured the cool, satisfying water into a glass and drank it.
So, seeing as she actually wanted my opinion, I did what I always do when someone expects me to exercise a part of me that doesn’t see much activity: I stared out the window for awhile.
I watched the heat waves shimmering off the hood of a car that had just parked across the street, and wondered why it was so hot. You see, where I live it does not get particularly warm at all. Nor very cold. We live in a moderate climate, the mountains to the back of us protecting us from the harsh winds of winter in Canada and trapping the warm breezes off the Pacific in summer. If you happen to be Canadian, as I am, this is the perfect place to reside. Near idyllic temperatures year round. Never too hot. Never too cold. Pretty much perfect, if you don’t mind that it never stops raining. Except for the past few years. It’s been cold when it should have been warm. It’s been dry when it should have rained. It is now hot in a way I don’t remember it ever being before.
So I stared out the window and listened to the silence brought on by the heat - people were laying low, as was I - and thought of this strange weather we’ve been experiencing, and how the rest of North America seemed to be affected as well in various ways. I wiped the perspiration off my brow, and pulled a sticking blouse away from my chest and went to get my 20th glass of water so far today out of the fridge. I stood with the fridge door open allowing the coolness to wash over me and thought how the climate is changing.
The world is changing. Nothing seems to be the way I have learned to expect. Something is stirring.
The musical is but a small blip on the weather map.
When, in the past, would someone have expected to make money out of a show about a singer who isn’t on top of the game? I admit I know little of New York and what sort of shows are successful there. But I imagine that a producer many have only two choices. Either come up with something using an internationally known star or perhaps a best selling novel as a premise, or come up with a unique slant. A musical using Clay Aiken as the unique slant? How could it work?
He’s not an internationally known star. He hasn’t sold millions upon millions of CDs and played to sold out audiences across the world. He doesn’t even always fill every concert hall in his home country when he goes on tour. His own label had so little faith that they made sure he didn’t win American Idol when all indications were that he should have. They don’t know what to do with him to this day. According to them he should be back home in Raleigh teaching school, having had his 15 minutes.
Yet he’s still out there, and somebody has put together a musical with him as the draw. And what is really strange - the media is giving it - and by extension, Mr. Aiken - their full attention. A virtual flood of it.
Someone questioned Clay Aiken’s sexuality and the blizzards raged for months.
Clay Aiken falls asleep on a plane and it hits the media like a tornado.
Clay Aiken loses his passport and it hits the media like a thunderstorm.
Clay Aiken does a spot on American Idol - what was it? 3 minutes? 2 &1/2? 4? And completely overshadows a mega star like Prince. He wasn’t even introduced. He just walked on stage and the winds blew for a week.
Clay Aiken hasn’t even had a mega hit record yet. On the weather map plotted by Clive Davis to guide his money making stars through the eddy currents of public desire, Aiken’s route probably isn’t even considered. Yet all Clay has to do is stick his head out his window in the morning, and the weather inexplicably changes.
Four years ago only a handful of boards lauded the talents of a certain Mr. Aiken. The media actively ignored him.
Yes, the climate is changing, I thought as I poured the cool, satisfying water into a glass and drank it.
Friday, July 13, 2007
The Plight of the Children
Why do you weep, my child, my son
what brings the tear to your eye
when all is yours within your reach
that should not make you cry
I’ve given you health and happiness
and wealth beyond the fold
I’ve given you all you could wish for
I’ve given you a voice of gold
I’ve given you a stage from which to speak
though it cannot be done in a day
yours is the passion and the dream
they'll help to light your way
yours is the future to make what you will
the dice you’ve already rolled
now it’s up to you to gird your loins
and run with the number you hold
Take heed, my son, the way is long
so rough, with thorns, so wild
but in the end you shall prevail
trust Me now, my child
why do you weep, my child, my son
what brings that tear to your eye
you are My soldier here on earth
you are My samurai
**********************************
Clay, dear, this is just a reminder. You are here for a greater purpose than that of entertainer. We, your avid fans were aware of it, I believe, even before you were. Gladys Knight saw immediately what we had seen the first time you appeared on our television sets.
But surely by now you, too, are aware that you are being led. At each turn it seems as if it were somehow meant to happen that way, and it always leads to another turn, and another.
We don't expect you not to hurt for those the world ignores, indeed, if you did not, you would not be the man you are. We would not be your fans, and I would not be writing this.
But you are who you are, and we shall stand and fight with you for as long as you need us. This was promised to you just before the finals night of American Idol. It stands as true today as it did then.
So cry for you must, be angry if you will - but do know this - we know it will take you some time yet to reach superstar status - yet this is where you need to go - and you know why.
Because North America, for some reason, insists on making royalty out of the top dogs in the entertainment industry. These people, the entertainment giants are who are listened to, and you know it. So bide your time, work hard, get that mega CD going - the one you need - and when you are on top, they will listen.
Until then you will cry and you will be angry. But remember, please - this entire scenario is greater than all of us. There's a Plan out there. Go where it takes you, for Someone is truly in charge here.
what brings the tear to your eye
when all is yours within your reach
that should not make you cry
I’ve given you health and happiness
and wealth beyond the fold
I’ve given you all you could wish for
I’ve given you a voice of gold
I’ve given you a stage from which to speak
though it cannot be done in a day
yours is the passion and the dream
they'll help to light your way
yours is the future to make what you will
the dice you’ve already rolled
now it’s up to you to gird your loins
and run with the number you hold
Take heed, my son, the way is long
so rough, with thorns, so wild
but in the end you shall prevail
trust Me now, my child
why do you weep, my child, my son
what brings that tear to your eye
you are My soldier here on earth
you are My samurai
**********************************
Clay, dear, this is just a reminder. You are here for a greater purpose than that of entertainer. We, your avid fans were aware of it, I believe, even before you were. Gladys Knight saw immediately what we had seen the first time you appeared on our television sets.
But surely by now you, too, are aware that you are being led. At each turn it seems as if it were somehow meant to happen that way, and it always leads to another turn, and another.
We don't expect you not to hurt for those the world ignores, indeed, if you did not, you would not be the man you are. We would not be your fans, and I would not be writing this.
But you are who you are, and we shall stand and fight with you for as long as you need us. This was promised to you just before the finals night of American Idol. It stands as true today as it did then.
So cry for you must, be angry if you will - but do know this - we know it will take you some time yet to reach superstar status - yet this is where you need to go - and you know why.
Because North America, for some reason, insists on making royalty out of the top dogs in the entertainment industry. These people, the entertainment giants are who are listened to, and you know it. So bide your time, work hard, get that mega CD going - the one you need - and when you are on top, they will listen.
Until then you will cry and you will be angry. But remember, please - this entire scenario is greater than all of us. There's a Plan out there. Go where it takes you, for Someone is truly in charge here.
Now You Know -or- Three Birds With One Stone
I couldn’t help but hear - well, I sort of heard - you asking the fans in the concert hall the other night to be quiet because you couldn’t even hear yourself speak. It was kinda noisy, wasn’t it - how come you can’t keep control of your class? I mean, being a teacher and all....
Of course you couldn’t possibly hear what really goes on in that bedlam your fans indulge in at every given opportunity, but do you ever wonder what it is, exactly, that they’re talking about? I mean, wouldn’t you like to know what they’re saying about you while you’re trying to get through a concert? I would. And so I set about doing a little checking. The best way to learn what goes on would have been to be sitting smack dab in the middle seat at one or two ( or 6 ) of your concerts, but alas I could not be there in person. So I did the next best thing. I scanned the boards.
I found one board so talkative that trying to keep up refreshing the pages was about to give my hard drive terminal heart failure, so I moved on. You think you only have 3000 fans? Well, the evidence is that you must have at least 3000 more, because that board was steaming with activity!
So I tried somewhere else. But everyone must have moved with me, because all 3000 were there as well. I know this for a fact, because of the racket. Have you any idea how it sounds when 3000 people chatter all at the same time? Silly question. Sorry. But if I were to find out what the conversations really were, I had to settle somewhere, so I give my hard drive a hug and a drink of water to cool it down and I settled in with the empty water glass to the wall. You can hear really well that way, did you know that?
So what were they talking about, do you think? I assumed it would be about your concert: Of course it would be. I mean, these boards are all dedicated to you, and it was a concert night after all. I scanned a couple of pages to find out what they were saying about what you singing tonight - how did you look - what were you wearing - which hairpiece did you have on - you know - the really important stuff.
“ I have to get my laundry out of the dryer.” said one.
“ Do you have tickets to Bon Jovi?” asked another. “ That Jon is SO cute “ twittered a third.
‘Hey everybody!” an enthusiastic voice piped in. “ My daughter just had twins!”
“Are you doing laundry, too?”
I switched boards. And got the same 3000 I guess. And just as talkative.
“ Hi everyone. I just got here. Have I missed much?” came from someone obviously late to the party.
You don’t need to know about the next several pages, because it’s repetition, everybody saying “hi” to the last one in and passing them drinks and popcorn. Then finally somebody says.
“ Whooo - hoooo!!!! He’s wearing a blue shirt and white pants! With a leather jacket! “
This caused pretty much the entire 3000 to thud ( loudly and with feeling ) for awhile until another report came in to inform us all that the first report was erroneous and that you were wearing a pink shirt and a WHITE jacket, and that you had on jeans. Which brought on a few memories of concerts past and created a reverberation heard throughout cyberspace as more people thudded.
“ When is your concert?” someone ( recovered from the flight to the floor ) asked someone else.
Oh goody! I’d found a board where they took discussing you seriously.
For a minute anyhow, until they realized they had to pack soon. That got many of the 3000 discussing what one should take with them, and remembering past trips ( not necessarily to a tete - a - tete with Clay Aiken ).
Somebody went off to get some more popcorn while somebody else went to answer their phone while someone else took a bathroom break and I thought it was time to switch boards again.
“He’s singing WY. OOOoooh I LOVE listening to him sing that song.”
“Yeah. The VOX !”
Oh goody. I’m going to hear about the concert now.
“ That was Carol O’Connor, wasn’t it?”
“ Who’s the Carol O’Connor chick?”
“ I’m going to feed the cat. He’s yowling, poor thing.”
“ Carroll O’Connor. There’re two Ls and two Rs in Carroll. It’s a guy. He was Archie Bunker in All In The Family in the 70s”
“ What do you think we can do to make Clay like cats? “
“Never heard of it. I’m only 14.”
I switched boards.
Dead silence. Not a peep. Why? I looked at the last entry. Five minutes ago - and no one had said anything since. Then I found the final entry.
“ SEXY!!! BACK!!!! “
That explained it. They’d all thudded the big one.
I left them in peace and proceeded on my way.
And so it went. And I think I’ve killed three birds with one stone here. About how many fans you really have, what they’re really on about, and what you can do about it.
The evidence tells us that there are at least 3000 more fans out there, all of them talking at once of course, and sometimes even about you. But they can be quiet too. And I’ve just told you how to accomplish that.
So now you know. Any questions?
Of course you couldn’t possibly hear what really goes on in that bedlam your fans indulge in at every given opportunity, but do you ever wonder what it is, exactly, that they’re talking about? I mean, wouldn’t you like to know what they’re saying about you while you’re trying to get through a concert? I would. And so I set about doing a little checking. The best way to learn what goes on would have been to be sitting smack dab in the middle seat at one or two ( or 6 ) of your concerts, but alas I could not be there in person. So I did the next best thing. I scanned the boards.
I found one board so talkative that trying to keep up refreshing the pages was about to give my hard drive terminal heart failure, so I moved on. You think you only have 3000 fans? Well, the evidence is that you must have at least 3000 more, because that board was steaming with activity!
So I tried somewhere else. But everyone must have moved with me, because all 3000 were there as well. I know this for a fact, because of the racket. Have you any idea how it sounds when 3000 people chatter all at the same time? Silly question. Sorry. But if I were to find out what the conversations really were, I had to settle somewhere, so I give my hard drive a hug and a drink of water to cool it down and I settled in with the empty water glass to the wall. You can hear really well that way, did you know that?
So what were they talking about, do you think? I assumed it would be about your concert: Of course it would be. I mean, these boards are all dedicated to you, and it was a concert night after all. I scanned a couple of pages to find out what they were saying about what you singing tonight - how did you look - what were you wearing - which hairpiece did you have on - you know - the really important stuff.
“ I have to get my laundry out of the dryer.” said one.
“ Do you have tickets to Bon Jovi?” asked another. “ That Jon is SO cute “ twittered a third.
‘Hey everybody!” an enthusiastic voice piped in. “ My daughter just had twins!”
“Are you doing laundry, too?”
I switched boards. And got the same 3000 I guess. And just as talkative.
“ Hi everyone. I just got here. Have I missed much?” came from someone obviously late to the party.
You don’t need to know about the next several pages, because it’s repetition, everybody saying “hi” to the last one in and passing them drinks and popcorn. Then finally somebody says.
“ Whooo - hoooo!!!! He’s wearing a blue shirt and white pants! With a leather jacket! “
This caused pretty much the entire 3000 to thud ( loudly and with feeling ) for awhile until another report came in to inform us all that the first report was erroneous and that you were wearing a pink shirt and a WHITE jacket, and that you had on jeans. Which brought on a few memories of concerts past and created a reverberation heard throughout cyberspace as more people thudded.
“ When is your concert?” someone ( recovered from the flight to the floor ) asked someone else.
Oh goody! I’d found a board where they took discussing you seriously.
For a minute anyhow, until they realized they had to pack soon. That got many of the 3000 discussing what one should take with them, and remembering past trips ( not necessarily to a tete - a - tete with Clay Aiken ).
Somebody went off to get some more popcorn while somebody else went to answer their phone while someone else took a bathroom break and I thought it was time to switch boards again.
“He’s singing WY. OOOoooh I LOVE listening to him sing that song.”
“Yeah. The VOX !”
Oh goody. I’m going to hear about the concert now.
“ That was Carol O’Connor, wasn’t it?”
“ Who’s the Carol O’Connor chick?”
“ I’m going to feed the cat. He’s yowling, poor thing.”
“ Carroll O’Connor. There’re two Ls and two Rs in Carroll. It’s a guy. He was Archie Bunker in All In The Family in the 70s”
“ What do you think we can do to make Clay like cats? “
“Never heard of it. I’m only 14.”
I switched boards.
Dead silence. Not a peep. Why? I looked at the last entry. Five minutes ago - and no one had said anything since. Then I found the final entry.
“ SEXY!!! BACK!!!! “
That explained it. They’d all thudded the big one.
I left them in peace and proceeded on my way.
And so it went. And I think I’ve killed three birds with one stone here. About how many fans you really have, what they’re really on about, and what you can do about it.
The evidence tells us that there are at least 3000 more fans out there, all of them talking at once of course, and sometimes even about you. But they can be quiet too. And I’ve just told you how to accomplish that.
So now you know. Any questions?
Friday, July 6, 2007
Soft Rock and a Hard Place
The tour has begun. As if anyone in the now slightly notorious Clay Nation doesn't know !
and already people are worrying........
about parts of the set list
about the whole set list
about the disorganization and disrespect some viewers showed in Frisco
about him clutching himself, well, a little too near... uh... the unmentionables
about.............
what for?
seems the soft rock and hard place title he suggested may have more meaning than he thought
The Clay we came to know and love is the same one we came to know and love all of 4 years ago. Albeit a bit heavier, with a better hairdo, a few more dollars in his pocket, and two dogs with an extra one named Bixby.
or maybe not
meaning Bixby: that may be another rumor, in this fan club who can tell for sure?
But there's one thing we can be sure of, and that Clay has not changed. And that means he's here to please. To have a good time and to give us the best show he's capable of. With every one of his senses and scruples intact, alive and well and playing in Houston tonight.
My opinion of his first concert: I got up out of the chair, found the bottle of vodka that had been gathering dust for about 10 years, and I toasted him. And I toasted his latest effort.
Clay is back. And he's already doing the best he can for me.
What more could I wish for from him?
and already people are worrying........
about parts of the set list
about the whole set list
about the disorganization and disrespect some viewers showed in Frisco
about him clutching himself, well, a little too near... uh... the unmentionables
about.............
what for?
seems the soft rock and hard place title he suggested may have more meaning than he thought
The Clay we came to know and love is the same one we came to know and love all of 4 years ago. Albeit a bit heavier, with a better hairdo, a few more dollars in his pocket, and two dogs with an extra one named Bixby.
or maybe not
meaning Bixby: that may be another rumor, in this fan club who can tell for sure?
But there's one thing we can be sure of, and that Clay has not changed. And that means he's here to please. To have a good time and to give us the best show he's capable of. With every one of his senses and scruples intact, alive and well and playing in Houston tonight.
My opinion of his first concert: I got up out of the chair, found the bottle of vodka that had been gathering dust for about 10 years, and I toasted him. And I toasted his latest effort.
Clay is back. And he's already doing the best he can for me.
What more could I wish for from him?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)