The Blues

Someday I’ll write a real post. For now, though, another note about music. Few things sustain me like music. For the past few months, a playlist I created and called The Blues, has done that. I don’t listen to it every day. Just randomly from time to time when I get upset. Here is the track listing:

Love is a Losing Game – Amy Winehouse
Linger – the Cranberries
It Only Hurts When I Cry – Dwight Yoakam
Shadowboxer – Fiona Apple
Special – Garbage
You Cheated Me – Martha Wainwright
You Never Get What You Want – Patty Griffin
Free – Patty Griffin
Everybody Hurts – REM
Everything Reminds Me of Her – Elliott Smith
I’m Looking Through You – The Beatles
It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue – Bob Dylan
Warwick Avenue – Duffy
I’m Not Gonna Beg – Natalie Merchant
Staring at the Sun – U2
So Cruel – U2
Asking for Flowers – Kathleen Edwards

Looking at it now, as I typed it, I think, when played on shuffle, it’s the perfect playlist. Subjectivity being the key…

 

Adam Duritz

So there is a lot of music that immediately takes me to another place and time. But nothing seems to do it like the Counting Crows’ August and Everything After, especially “Round Here” which is the first track.

It’s pure teleportation when Duritz starts with, “Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white. And in between the moon and you the angels get a better of view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.”

LOVE. IT.

 

Friday, April 17, 2009. 8:12 a.m.

This morning, on my (very short) drive to work, I saw the following:

A woman walking her Irish Setter.

The dog’s coat was swishing back and forth, almost in time with his tail which was wagging moderately. Beautiful dog, although I personally wouldn’t want to care for the hair. Regardless, they both looked altogether happy.

Another woman walking her brindle mutt.

I happen to know this woman from shopping at the local boutique that she owns. More importantly, I know her dog because he is often in the store. Awesome dog. He’s fairly big – I’d guess around 100 pounds. But he’s just a big lug and doesn’t have any agenda other than to get his belly rubbed. When you pet him, as I often have, he almost immediately rolls over for a rub. Then, as long as you are in the store, he follows you around asking for more of the same. I love it. At the same time, he isn’t too irritating because he doesn’t push himself on you unless you show interest.

A kid kicking a rock while presumably waiting for the school bus.

He cracked me up because, when I rounded the corner and he came into view, I saw him running toward something on the ground. His hands were in his pockets and his backpack was swinging on his back. He kicked at the ground. As I got a little closer, I saw that he was playing a personal game of soccer with the rock. Just entertaining himself, having a good time while waiting for the bus.

As I drove by, it made me a little sad that he accidentally kicked the rock under my car. I was afraid that he lost his rock, but I saw in my rearview mirror that he found it after I passed. You go kid.

Good start to the weekend.

 

For Sidney

There’s a sad sort of clanging from the clock in the hall
And the bells in the steeple too
And up in the nursery an absurd little bird
Is popping out to say “cuckoo”

Cuckoo, cuckoo

Regretfully they tell us Cuckoo, cuckoo
But firmly they compel us Cuckoo, cuckoo
To say goodbye . . .

Cuckoo!

. . . to you

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night
I hate to go and leave this pretty sight

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu
Adieu, adieu, to yieu and yieu and yieu

So long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen
I’d like to stay and taste my first champagne

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye
I leave and heave a sigh and say goodbye — Goodbye!

I’m glad to go, I cannot tell a lie
I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly

The sun has gone to bed and so must I
So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Goodbye!

I’ll miss you, but not the litter box.

 

Citizenship

I just did my duty and paid Uncle Sam what he was owed (IRS, take note). Hope that whatever I contributed to the stimulus package doesn’t go to waste. I have a lot of theories about taxation and about who should be paying what. Regardless, I’m okay with paying my part so long as it doesn’t go to waste.

So, with that in mind, I say, “Gobama! Godspeed.”

 

Stupid WordPress

So I told myself that I’m going to start posting again regularly. For whom, I’m not really sure.

Anyway, last night, I wrote a post that I’m sure would have been nominated for the Pulitzer in blogging. But when I published it, the text was gone. Very disappointing.

Regardless, this is my sorry excuse for a post today. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll try to recreate the wonderful copy that disappeared last night.

 

Thanks, Leonard

Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I’ve walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What’s really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don’t even know the name
But if I did, well really, what’s it to you?
There’s a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

 

Lesson Learned?

To use the stupid made up word I’ve heard lately, I’ve spent yesterday and today on a staycation. Because I love to travel, I don’t recall ever taking off work and just hanging out. I’ve not yet decided for certain whether I’m opposed to it or not, but it’s definitely weird.

For instance, yesterday around noon, I took Sadie on a walk through Hillcrest. I saw people, obviously dressed in work attire, on their lunch breaks. I sort of reveled in the thought that, while they only had an hour or so of freedom, I could do whatever I darn well pleased for the rest of the day. I ended up not doing much of anything except going to Barnes and Noble to buy a travel book about a location that I’m seriously considering visiting this autumn.

And all that was fine. It’s just that I couldn’t shake the feeling that, by staying around Little Rock, I was missing out on something in the wider world. So while the weirdness is really in my head, I think this experience has made me realize that I either need to learn to be more satisfied with the admittedly nice city in which I live or just need to give into my general wanderlust whenever possible.

I’m leaning toward the latter. I love everything about traveling. Even the frustrating challenges involved can turn into a rewarding experience if approached properly.

Incidentally, I love Little Rock. The dissatisfaction of which I speak is associated only with burning my vacation to stay in town.

 

So Excited…

I could scream like a little girl.

Seriously, personal politics aside, the moment that IS America has arrived. I get chills thinking about: revolution without bloodshed. Those founders seriously knew what they were doing.

Plus, I’m glad to know that, in about fifteen minutes, we’ll have a head of state about whom I’ll be proud to say, “He represents me and my country.” It’s been a while.

 

I’m Only Bleeding

So, fairly recently, I’ve “discovered” Bob Dylan. If anyone still reads this blog, then he or she probably already knows that, generally speaking, I love pop music. It’s a shame that I’ve gone so long without listening to Bob. I can thank Cat Power for the long overdue introduction, but that’s another story for another post. Anyway, my favorite Dylan lyric, as of late, comes from “It’s All Right Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)”:

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool’s gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying