Toast

[Douglas Mercer]

Douglas Mercer
June 29 2024

With her song Toast Tori Amos returns (see The Celestial City, White Biocentrism, June 22 2024) to the famous hunting ground of the gods where fate is currently working itself out but this time does so in a minor key. No longer the burst of consciousness from the mind of the god nor the feeding of bodies at banquets, no longer the dire threats, or the interchange of identities and masks. In this she has written not only a quite lovely and touching song but, globally speaking, the most important song ever written. For in the end with any artwork, or any person or thing for that matter, you have to add it all up to see what the achievement is and assess accordingly. If you are not paying attention it is so fleeting you will miss it but then that is nearly always the case, is it not?

I thought it was Easter time
The way the light rose that morning
Lately you've been on my mind
You showed me the rope to climb
Over mountains and to pull myself
Out of a landslide

Here the female god is in a state of calm and repose, perhaps the storm has passed. She addresses someone, in this case her counterpart, the male god, and she is in a valedictory and generous mood. She is in the basking glow of the penultimate time and can see the light at the end of the tunnel and she knows that the “propers” need to be given, and that it is time for famous men to be praised without rancor or resentment. So her thought in the early morning light naturally turns to the male god.

“Lately” is the key word here, we are at the end of time when “it is time” and it is natural that a reflective summing up is to occur. And despite her earlier protestation the male god is on her mind and she accepts this with equanimity. What has her counterpart or opposite number done for her? Nothing less than given her the key to life: showed her the ropes, that is educated her; and gave her the rope to travel along destiny’s way. With this rope she went over mountains (the icy heights of the Hyperboreans where the truth lies); and with this rope as a gift she pulls herself out of the drowning quicksand and out of the landslide, those always passing wisps of an evaporating and evanescent reality which threaten to submerge one in oblivion.

I thought it was harvest time
You always loved the smell of the wood burning
The flames you stirred, yes, you could stir
Dalhousie Castle, she would meet you there
I raise a glass, make a toast, a toast in your honor
I hear you laugh and beg me not to dance

Now we move past Easter time to Harvest Time, the world of the earth inhabited by god and mortals, the old god now buried underground but awaiting its return from dispossession as the rightful King. This has the aura of the old world of hills and dales, of magic and enchantment, the world of the woods. The god is the god of fire and he “stirs” that is makes go (“stirs the pot”, “stirs the drink”) and he also is stirring as in rousing (anthemic). As the god of fire the god brings wisdom, and knowledge and power to the world, gives birth to poetry and thought and being itself; as the lesser partner in the duo the female god grants what is needed at the end of time when it is time: acknowledgment, recognition, and honor, so she raises a glass, makes a song of praise, gives a toast to the host, that is she praises men of fame (men and cattle die but the fame of great men’s deeds live forever in song and melody).

Our god is the most high handed and deserves the accolades and the attention and the paeans of the world. Our god is also the god of laughter (I am the god who made this joke-Nietzsche); and the reference to him “begging” her not to dance is ironic as he too recognizes the female, and with a gently sardonic statement (understood by both to be so) tells her not to dance, as if dancing were somehow a threat to him which of course it is not. This is an allusion to the stereotypically stated so called opposition of the gods Apollo and Dionysus (I would only believe in a god that dances-Nietzsche). So transpires a final honesty between the ever-oscillating sides and a coming to terms of one with another; something which in mutual respect and recognition needs to be worked out; something which has to happen to clear out the heavenly confusion and usher in the final event.

Because on your right, standing by, is Mister Bojangles
With a toast he's telling me it's time
To raise a glass, make a toast, a toast in your honor

Standing by refers what is lying in reserve or lying in wait and refers to the famous standing reserve made famous by Martin Heidegger whose primary example of this is a water that is dammed up and thus stores energy that is in use but has yet to be used. The energy is ready for use at any time thus it is said to be “standing by.” But in the realm of ideas it is the knowledge and lore that has been in place and is ready to be set in motion and be mobilized at the right time, when information becomes free and freely available, that is language is mobilized only when it is interpreted properly. And standing at the right hand of the god is “Mr. Bojangles” who was a White homeless man and street performer (rhapsodist) who in 1965 told Jerry Walker his story; and Walker turned it into a song which dovetails with the plan. Bojangles is said to have the “eyes of age” (sight for lore, mythic wisdom) to have “talked of life” (life philosophy, lebenphilosophie) and it is said he “spoke right out” meaning direct communication at last and no misdirection or cryptic messages but the truth unadorned will come to be spoken. Then he “jumped so high” (the leap, the reaching and scaling of the heights of knowledge) and then he “lightly touched down” the landing of light which touches down (they put it down on the Vegas strip, stepped out into the lights saying hi, see The Celestial City, White Biocentrism, June 22 2024). And so the opposites have united, and understanding has been achieved, which betokens the peace in the heavens which is the prelude to that on earth (Poe, peace on earth).

I thought I'd see you again
You said you might do
Maybe in a carving
In a cathedral
Somewhere in Barcelona

***

Notes:

The Basilica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Familia, otherwise known as Sagrada Familia, is a church under construction in the Exiample district Barcelona, Spain. It is largest unfinished church in the world. (“they are still building it” Building, White Biocentrism, May 19 2024). The carving is of St. George, a figure with Hellenic head and standing upright as a solider.

Dalhousie Castle is a located in Scotland near the town of Bonnyrigg, south of Edinburgh. The castle was the seat of the Earls of Dalhousie, the patriarch of the clan was Simundus de Ramesie (Simon of Ramsey), an English Knight of Norman descent.

[Douglas Mercer]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_30xAFuw1M0

[Douglas Mercer]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7Ip_EECm_U

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dc2vr_ZDfPA

[Douglas Mercer]

I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you
In worn out shoes
Silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants
The old soft shoe
He jumped so high
He jumped so high
Then he'd lightly touched down
Mr bojangles
Mr bojangles
Mr bojangles
Dance
I met him in a cell in new orleans i was
Down and out
He looked to me to be the eyes of age
As he spoke right out
He talked of life
He talked of life
He lightly slapped his leg instead
He said the name bojangles and he danced a lick
Across the cell
He grabbed his pants for a better stance
He jumped so high
He clicked his heels
He let go a laugh
He let go a laugh
Shook back his clothes all around
Mr bojangles
Mr bojangles
Mr bojangles
Dance
We danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs
Throughout the south
We spoke in tears of fifteen years
How his dog and him
They travelled about
His dog up and died
He up and died
After twenty years he still grieves
They said i dance now at every chance and honky tonks
For drinks and tips
But most the time i spend behind these county bars
Cause i drinks a bit
He shook his head and as he shook his head
I heard someone ask please
Mr Bojangles
Mr Bojangles
Mr Bojangles
Dance
I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you
In worn out shoes
Silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants
The old soft shoe
He jumped so high
He jumped so high
Then he'd lightly touched down
Mr Bojangles
Mr Bojangles
Mr Bojangles

[Douglas Mercer]