Carlos Dominguez

The song is not about Carlos Dominguez, the current CEO of Cisco systems, who is 55, and the same-named Spanish footballer, a.k.a. Carlitos, is only 38. We can know this because this track was written in 1962 or '63, under Simon's alias Paul Kane; it was the flipside of the 45 of "He was My Brother."

[Yes, last week's song was written later, and my intention has been to post these songs chronologically when I know the dates. I also knew that this was to be my last post, and I just didn't want to end the blog, after eight-and-a-half years, writing about Nixon's relationship with Cuba, of all things.]

This song is about a modern-day Diogenes, on a perpetual psychological search. Unlike the ancient Greek, Carlos seeks not for an honest man but for... many things.

We are introduced to him by someone who is concerned enough about this obviously "unhappy man" to ask him two questions: "[You are] always running away/ What are you searching for?/ Why do you cry every day?"

Carlos explains that he searches every day because he "cannot find" the objects of his search. Overall, he seeks "a way I might find piece of mind. Why does he run? "I'm lost." Why does he cry? "I'm afraid."

In the chorus, the questioner repeats himself. This time, Carlos is more forthcoming. "I search for a truth, all I found was a lie/ I look for eternity, but I find all men die/ I'm looking for answers, but I find only fate/ I'm searching for love, I find in this world is hate."

Carlos is having a major crisis. He feels, with Yeats, that entropy is the only rule: "Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold." There is nothing reliably good, not even anything reliably... reliable.

Those in his mindset have a few options. Some find solace in religion. Some turn to science or some political ideology. Some try therapy or some forms of... self-medication. Some even turn to crime and other forms of selfish stuff-gathering.

And some follow the path suggested by the original version of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," and "muddle through, somehow." They stop looking for the One Big Thing that ties up reality in a nice big bow and instead decide what matters to them, and then work on that.

Viktor Frankl-- a psychiatrist who continued to counsel his fellow Jews even though they were all in the same Nazi concentration camp-- suggested that there is no universal "Meaning of Life," but that each of us must find meaning in life. It's not about asking the Universe "Why are we here?" but asking oneself "Why am I here?"

Poor Carlos is not there yet. He is searching for the Grand Unified Theory and... not finding it in anything created by humans or found in nature. He has yet to stand still and look inside himself.

Perhaps there is no "truth"... but he can be true. There is no "eternity," but he can live a full life, and contribute to eternity through his works and children. There may be no "answers," but there is more than "fate"-- there is self-determination. There is free will. And even if there is no abstract "love" out there, he can still love. He can find love, or make it.

Musically, the song is Simon on a solo acoustic guitar, playing Spanish style, very well. As we have seen, Simon was fascinated with the wide world of music since his youth, ages before Graceland.

As for the lyrics... Simon, well Kane anyway, was at most in his early 20s when he wrote this, and it sounds like it. It sounds like a college-age person who has read the news and decided all humanity is lost. The song ends with the same questions with which it began, and its hero no closer to fulfilling his quest.

It is not inappropriate to, in this case, confuse the writer with his character, an earnest idealist and seeker after truth.

It is 1963, at the latest, when this song is published. The following year, 1964, will see Simon continuing to explore these same themes of yearning in another poetic, acoustic-guitar song. That song, and the themes of despair and hope that it explores, will not only launch Simon on his still-continuing career...

...but will be treasured by billions as one of the best, truest, most important songs ever written:

"The Sounds of Silence."


Next Song: The Mission

Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall

In his play The Wild Duck, Henrik Ibsen (Norway) shows that it is better for some to live with an illusion than with the truth that would devastate them. In his book of essays, "The Myth of Sisyphus," Albert Camus (France) explains that, since hope and despair are equally absurd guesses as to the quality of the future, one might as well choose hope. Another work this song calls to mind is Umberto Eco's (Italy) novel The Name of the Rose, which discusses-- since knowledge is power-- who gets to know what, and whether it might be better for certain people to not know certain things.

And then of course, there is good old Jack Nicholson (America), in the film, "A Few Good Men," frustratedly asserting that we cannot, in fact, "handle the truth."

Whether the speaker in our song is aware of any of these works is beside the point-- he would certainly understand them. He has tried to fathom something about reality, and it confounded him most horribly. He has nightmares about the unknown: "Through the corridors of sleep... my mind dances and leaps in confusion."

He is not sure whether the reality he perceives is, in fact, real... or is perhaps all in his head. He is unsure of even his own status as "real." It would be one thing if the "dark and small" image his mirror reflects was himself, for at least then he could try to come to grips with his insignificance... only, he's "not sure at all it's [his] reflection."

Understandably, he seeks explanations in the usual places-- "God" and religion, science and philosophy-- only to find that such intense "light" leaves him "blinded." It seems that he cannot, in fact, handle the "truth."

Before, there were too many "shadows," and now there is too much "light"! So, it's back to the darkness, and "wander[ing] in the night."

In the end, he basically gives up, and goes back to pretending. Not out of fear, exactly, but because he did find an answer, of sorts. The logic is simple, really. One of two things is true:

Position A is that reality is objectively true. Yet, it is unknowable by his limited, human mind, which means that, as far as he can know, reality can only extend.... as far as he can know.

Position B is that there is no objective reality, and what is "real" is only whatever he says it is. In which case, his experience is real... because he creates "reality" by believing it into existence.

His conclusion is that, ironically, whether there is an objective reality or not, he is in the same spot: only able to know what he can know.

So, to be fair, in the end, he does not give up as much as he takes Camus' insightful nonchalance. Since he can't even know IF there is a "real" reality or it's all in his mind to begin with, he might as well stop worrying about it and get on with the business of living ("I must... face tomorrow"), as far as he experiences life.

As he puts it, "my fantasy becomes reality." Again, that could mean that (Position A) there is a true "reality" that he only has a limited awareness ("fantasy") of, so it's true for him... or (Position B) his imposition of his opinions and biases (his "fantasy") upon experiences actually changes those experiences ("reality") into what he says they are.

But it doesn't "matter," he realizes, if you "play" the "king" who imposes your will on reality (Position B), or a "pawn" who is moved about by hands unseen (Position A).

In either case, he sees, "I must be what I must be." In the case of Position A, this is so because he has no choice; he is fated. In position B, it's because whatever he wills (or stumbles) himself into becoming, he will become, due to simple cause and effect, even if he-- and not fate-- is the cause.

He started off by "hid[ing] behind the shield of [his] illusion." Ultimately, he returns there: "I'll continue to continue to pretend" as before [emphasis mine].

'As far as I'm concerned,' he decides, 'flowers don't bend when pummeled by heavy rains."

For instance, he will ignore mortality and "pretend/ My life will never end".' Mortality is too disabling a concept, so best to ignore it and "pretend" it away. If one is focused on death, one does not live.

Why this example? If one thinks too hard about what is inevitable, one stops trying to move forward at all. Reality gets in the way; illusion permits motion. Reality-- or at least the acknowledgement of it-- causes the death of progress. Only by ignoring reality/death can one truly live.

Yes, he will continue to imagine a world that works the way he needs it to, with all the myths that help him stay sane and functioning... even if he knows now that, yes, they are myths. (In the movie Unstrung Heroes, we have this exchange between an atheist and a believer: "Religion is a crutch." "Well, a crutch isn't a bad thing, if you need it.")

Our hero will continue to hunt the Wild Duck, he will continue to push his Sisyphean stone uphill, he will continue to copy Medieval manuscripts without reading them.

At least he can handle the truth... that he can't handle the truth.


Next song: A Simple Desultory Philippic.