bodily harm. As if this were somehow not horribly and painfully obvious.

                  "Give me all your money or I’ll kill you!" he says over and over, his own personal mantra.

As far as I can surmise, it’s the only English he knows. I highly doubt that he understands the meaning of

each individual word outside of the context he’s using them in – which is certainly a frightening

proposition. Fortunately/Unfortunately for me, I have no money on me – if I had some, it’d be his right

now: I’m not one of those ego sorts, the kind who takes it as a personal affront when someone has the gall

to stick me, ME¹, up – which I keep tryingto tell him but there’s this matter of the whole English thing

which I spoke of in the last sentence. I’m starting to think that all of this going to end very badly for me.

I’ve often wondered what goes through one’s mind in that last second of life, if those tales of your life

flashing before your eyes had any validity to them. I somehow hoped I could do this kind of thing

vicariously, but no go, and I certainly didn’t think it’d be happening so soon.

                   I don’t purport to speak for everyone, but as this very incident is occurring, the lyrics to Richard

Harris’s "The Yard Went On Forever" are circling through my mind. You may reread that last sentence as

many times as you like, but I assure you right now that your eyes did not play some sort of trick on you nor

did I make a bizarre typo. While I was potentially facing my Moment Of Reckoning, was I saying a

prayer? Was I thinking of a MacGyver-style exit from this predicament? No, I was wrestling with the

lyrics to Richard Harris’s "The Yard Went On Forever," for perhaps the last time – you may contend that,

for this alone, I deserve to die. Fair enough, I suppose, but if you’ve never had your life threatened then you

very well aren’t in any position to say what and what doesn’t enter one’s mind in those horrible moments.

Let’s backtrack a little and I’ll attempt to explain.

                    First off, many of you may now be scratching your heads, trying to place the name "Richard

Harris." Richard Harris, in the 1960s, was a star of stage and screen, starring in films like The Sporting Life

and Camelot², and who could forget his performances in the Man Called Horse series, particularly

Triumphs of the…. It was the musical experience that Camelot brought him that led him into the next phase

of his career: romantic crooner, as if there were any other kind. At the behest of pal Jimmy Webb, Harris

recorded "MacArthur Park" and the ensuing record was not only a massive hit but is now considered a

classic (whether it’s good or bad is something that’s still debated to this day.) Off of the success of

"MacArthur Park," Harris and Webb³ hooked up for two albums, A Tramp Shining and The Yard Went On

Forever. Both were concept albums – about love, silly -- with richly imaginative lyrics and intricate, often

bombastic, arrangements. Harris was a man’s man, so fellas were willing to listen to him croon songs of

heartbreak and devotion and the women! The women just ate it up.

                    As you can probably guess by now, "The Yard Went On Forever" is the title track to an album

Richard Harris did with Jimmy Webb. Based on a number of recommendations, I myself had picked up A

Tramp Shining and instantly fell in love with it. Soon after, I bought a really old book of sheet music

called, The Genius of Jim Webb. Now, I’d heard stories about the followup to ATS, how it was even more

out there than ATS, both lyrically and musically. A friend of mine in the UK offered to make a copy of it

for me, but then his tape machine broke and you know how that goes. At that point, all I had was the sheet

music which, even devoid of voice and arrangements, was enough to tell me that all of the stories I heard

were true, and then some.

                    So, to get my copy of the song, I did what any other red-blooded American would do: I went out

on to Napster looking for it. You know, I really shouldn’t have been surprised by the results but, come on,

twenty-million Napster users and not one of them is ripping Richard Harris albums? The future is doomed!

I returned to my original source and pleaded with him to enter the 21^st century and encode at least

the title track for me. After making quite a nuissance out of myself, he finally relented and "The Yard" was

mine.

                    Everyone always makes a big deal out of how ridiculous "MacArthur Park" is and how it doesn’t

make sense. On the contrary, the chorus to "MP" contains a rather facile metaphor involving cake with the

cake representing a relationship, and the "sweet green icing" being either a sign of the decay of said

relationship or, if you want to be artful, tears. (I mean, hell, Guns & Roses’ "November Rain" video seems

to be based around the same kind of metaphor.) I can only believe that they think this way, i.e. "MP" is

confusing, because they’ve never heard "The Yard Went On Forever." Now, that song is truly insane:

bizarre, seemingly inscrutable lyrics about Nagasaki housewives and backing vocals sung in Latin and

featuring more horns than a Sousa convention. (Get it? Well, it’s not one of mine anyway, I heard it on the

radio, so nyeah.) In nearly every way, "Yard" makes "MP" seem as mundane as "The Lady in Fucking

Red."⁴

                    Okay, that hopefully gets that out of the way. Now, I, like many people I’m sure, have a habit of

getting songs stuck in my head. I would theorize, actually, that there’s a song playing in my head 24/7,

even though I may not always be aware of it. I’m not exactly sure why certain songs get stuck there: When

I leave a movie theatre, I’ll often end up humming the end credits music; if I hear a catchy pop tune

sometime during the day, it too will end up in there. Usually though, to the consternation of friends and

acquaintances, it ends up being something brooding and epic, most often sung by a crooner, and, without

fail, I end up singing it aloud⁵ -- in my crooner voice. King of all of these tunes, however, is Richard

Harris’s "The Yard Went On Forever." I’ll be walking the streets of New York or getting off a subway or

brushing my teeth and it’ll appear, seemingly from nowhere, in my head and I’ll have no choice but to give

it voice. I’ve done some thinking about this and I think this one takes the cake because a) it’s immensely

sad – I think, b) it’s the very definition of "croonable"⁶ and c) IT MAKES NO SENSE! Not to me, at

least…not yet. That last part is why I think it stays there, haunting me – perhaps it’s my subconscious

trying to tell me something, warn me – What is it, boy? I don’t think it’ll be vanquished from my mind

until I can sort it out. Not that I mind particularly, since I happen to love the song, but there are others who

aren’t as kind.

                    Others like my girlfriend, for example. One night, over dinner, I slipped out a line about houses,

and hoses, and sprinklers on the lawn: Now, she hates the song, but from my singing various fragments of

it, she’s more than familiar with how the whole thing goes – so it was impossible for me to pass if off as an

oddly melodic statement about houses, hoses, and sprinklers on the lawn. She had the countenance of a

woman who had heard about houses and hoses and sprinklers on the lawn far too often as she reproached

me for my singing. But this time, she went beyond mere scolding and tried to get down to the root of the

problem.

                    She asked, "Why?" I told her that, unlike superficial pop songs, "The Yard Went On Forever"

stays in my head because my subconscious is, as we speak, trying to unravel the song’s mysteries.

Speaking from out of my ass, I proceeded to say, "It’s Zen. It’s like a koan in that it clears my mind of

thought and allows me to relax."

                    Now, this is a girl who knows bullshit when she hears it.⁷ "That, my dear," she exclaims, "is

bullshit." Initially, I had just said what I did as a joke, but now I was starting to believe it. I mean, what’s

the difference, really, between "What is the sound of one hand-clapping?" and "What the hell does ‘The

Yard Went On Forever’ mean?" From that conversation on, whenever I wanted to clear my mind of

thought, I would begin to wrestle with the lyrics to That Song. Can’t get to sleep at night? Not a problem.

Having difficulties concentrating? Not anymore. There are some benefits to it that, in the name of decency,

I’ll keep to myself.
 
 

(Horns & Drums) DOO-DOO, DOO-DOO, DOO-DOO, DOO-DOO, DOO-DOO-DOO, DOO-

DOO, DOO-DOO, DOO-DOO, DOO-DOO-DOO.
 
 

(Woodwinds & Hi-hat) doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo,

doo-doo, doo-doo-doo.
 
 

Sorry.⁸
 

                    Anyway, bringing it back to the present day, but steering clear, for now at least, of the

aforementioned unpleasantness, I decided to go out for a walk on a blissfully clear and crisp New York

City autumn evening. The girlfriend was out with friends, so I made the trip alone. The night air, as always,

was inviting and there’s very little that compares to it when it comes to reminding you that you’re alive. I

often like to go on walks alone, just to think, and tonight I’m especially glad that I did: Possibly all of what

is happening to me right now could’ve been averted if someone was paying attention, but, on the other

hand, I don’t want anything to happen to anyone I care about because of my stupidity because God knows

I’ve been doing that all my life.

                    At this point, you probably don’t need me to tell you that, while minding my own business and

singing softly to myself the words to That Song, I found myself in a bad part of town⁹ late at night and was

struck on the back of the neck by the handle of a gun and dragged against my will into an alley, but I told

you anyway because I don’t want to be accused of being vague.

                    You may remember the part about him saying, "Give me all of your money or I’ll kill you!" I

can’t tell you, honestly, how long this has been going on. To me, it feels like forever, but it could just be a

matter of seconds, in reality. That Song got me into this position and I hope that That Song can get me out

of it. As I said, I used "The Yard" as my koan, as my way of clearing my mind and allowing me to think

straight; it’ll get me out of this jam as it has so many times before – once I’m cool, I’ll simply grab the gun

by the barrel and tell him that he wasn’t do that and that’ll be it. Yes! So I began the process of going over

the lyrics in my head, hoping that they’ll grant me the lucid thinking I need to escape from this situation.

There are three "parts" to That Song: The beginning and ending section are the same, except that,

in the ending section, the cities of Bombay and Nagasaki replace Pompeii and Kansas City, respectively,

and "eruptions and destruction" replace "volcanoes and tornadoes," respectively and fittingly. The music

that accompanies these sections is unspeakably sad and more than a little maudlin; you can actually see the

string players’ tears as they play. That sadness ends abruptly with drums and horns signaling doomsday and

Latin backing vocals just adding to the mayhem.

                    Thinking about it, the four cities named have been the victims of four different kinds of disasters,

those very same disasters named in the last sentence. The singing of the housewives could very well be

crying, each one empathizing with the other. The key section of the song is the middle section, the one that

bridges these scenes of turmoil and devastation. The music is the most idyllic you’ll ever hear: It’s music

for Heaven’s merry-go-round. There are two verses, both ending with the line, "And the yard went on

forever." In between those lines are highly-detailed reminiscences of the aforementioned hoses, houses, and

sprinklers on the lawn. It comes off as a serene flashback to simpler days, the apotheosis of the quotidian:

items like frying pans and ironing boards are treated with reverence. Considering its placement in the song

and the tone of the other two sections, the middle part comes across like a C.F. Kane¹⁰ lament for happier

times. A-ha! I’ve figured it out! The protagonist finds himself in the midst of a disaster and his mind

wanders back to days when his life was so beautifully norm—

                    No.

                    Squeezing into the subway when it appears that not another single soul could fit in. Stepping out

of the building to be embraced by the deliciously cold Winter air. Enjoying the sound that a cold bottle of

soda makes when you twist off its top. My mom. Crickets chirping loudly, breaking the silence of a hot

suburban night. My young nephews and their magical world where even Santa Claus still exists. Waking up

in the middle of the night and realizing it’s the weekend and you can sleep for as long as you like. The

freedom of living on your own and how happy just going to the store by yourself and buying your favorite

drink and ice cream for a night of video watching can make you. Walking down the street, listening to

music, and feeling like the world is full of endless possibilities. Walking by yourself along the ocean at

night. Unlocking the last lock on the door and the feeling of anticipation as I open it and see her again.

Her laugh. How soft her body feels when we cuddle before falling asleep. Hearing an unsolicited, just-

because-I-felt-like-it "I love you."

                    There is…one part of the song…that…I still don’t get. It fades out…at…the end…with no

resolution. All…of…the voices…are…silenced…and the music…it recedes.

² For The Kids, Richard Harris played Marcus Aurelius in Gladiator.

³ It occurs to me that maybe people don’t know who Jimmy Webb is either. Jimmy Webb was one of the biggest songwriters of the 60s: Along with Burt Bacharach, he was that rare thing – a superstar songwriter. Though, also like Bacharach, he would turn to recording his own material with mixed results. He’s penned classics such as "Wichita Lineman," "By the Time I Get to Phoenix," "Galveston," and "Up, Up, and Away."

⁴ Note: Not the real title. That particular 1986 chestnut by Argentinian-born-but-British-raised singer/songwriter Chris DeBurgh is actually called "The Lady in Red." If you’ve heard it enough times, though, I’d be willing to bet you know it better by the title I assign to it.

⁵ Scott Walker would be a good example of this: "Big Louise" is one of my favorite songs in my head.)

⁶ If there is such a word. Though, that red line under it means it certainly isn’t a word. I am creating language – I am James Joyce. A ha ha ha. The entry, now and forever, shall look like this:

Main Entry: croon·able

Pronunciation: 'krün-a-bal
Function: adjective
Date: 15th century
: having qualities that lends itself to crooning.

⁷ Living with me requires one to wear knee-highs at all times and, while not necessary, having access to a shovel wouldn’t hurt either.

⁸ What’s even more annoying is my tendency to simulate the arrangement vocally. Apologies.

⁹ It wouldn’t be fair of me to malign this certain section of the city just because of what’s happening to me, but let’s just say that it’s a part of New York that you’ll never see on Felicity or Time of Your Life – if it were even possible to see the latter at all.

¹⁰ Charles Foster Kane was the titular character of wunderkind Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane. In the film, the young Charles had a sled he called Rosebud, a word which would also happen to be his last. After his parents came into money, the boy was sent away with a cold-hearted businessman to prepare for his future. The sled was left behind, as was the carefree childhood it represented.