Sunday, December 19, 2004
I have the tendency to stay dormant. I don't know where the habit started or why, but given the option of going out or staying in I tend to opt for staying in. By default I feel as though I should just stay in and do "something." Rarely does that "something" ever get defined and then I'm simply dawdling and letting my mind wander.
But I'm happiest when I'm out and moving. I LOVE taking road trips and I love being out in the open with people all around. However, I like being anonymous in public places. I have a bit of anxiety about being around people I don't know (I wouldn't go so far as to call it a fear, but I have a distaste and/or nervous feeling that develops when I have to introduce myself to new people and start up acquainting conversations).
My mind changes when I've had a drink or two (as it does for most people), but I don't go into social situations thinking, "I'll just have a drink or two and then I'll be fine." The social fluidity of alcohol usually goes into effect after I've already hesitated for quite some time and incidentally had a drink or two in the mean time.
So I received a new turntable belt in the mail the other day and I've been steeped in vinyl ever since. I'm finally able to listen to all of the records I've inherited from my parents or from friends or even purchased myself. Listening to Simon & Garfunkel or Bob Dylan or Buffalo Springfield on record has a supremely authentic sound to it. I suppose I may start buying vinyl now and chime in with those oh-so-indie folks who will only listen to records and spout off on the platitudes of why corporate radio sucks.
I almost drove to San Francisco last night. Up until 200 feet before my exit, I was still wavering on whether to go home and fall asleep or drive until morning and eat in some Bay Area diner. Finally I decided that as much as I want to feed my spontaneity and creative impulses, I need to pay rent and eat, and my credit card bill is high enough because gas is fucking expensive. I need a hybrid car and a map of everything.
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I had a randomly depressing day today. One of those days where I thought maybe I should write a hilarious play called "how to succeed in failure without really trying." It would feature me applying to numerous jobs, fellowships, and internships, and receiving a bunch of rejection letters on the same day. Then someone would kick my dog. Ultimately the play would bomb and I'd be homeless and then a donkey would bite off my penis. Ok, I stole that last part from a South Park episode.
So then I decided to finish my long overdue final paper and while procrastinating I decided to check out your profile on myspace. That eventually led me to this blog, which I read once a long time ago. Then I read your post "try not to sing out of tune" which made me think of this beautiful version of "with a little help" by Martin Sexton where he has this cool whistling solo. There are way too few whistling solos in music.
That whistling made me think about how I stumbled across Martin Sexton. So now I'm thinking about how I listened to Glorybound 9,000 times when we were on Habitat together. (Right there you just figured out who this is).
Ultimately I'm feeling a little sad today. But now I'm sitting here thinking about standing on a jetty with one of my best friends watching the sun set with a nice warm breeze on our backs, humming "I'm taking my chance on the wind... I'm packing up all my bags, baby... making a mistake I gotta make...oh, well I'm glorybound."
That memory is shining through my cloudy thoughts as if somebody poked one single white plastic nubby into my mental LiteBrite. It's funny how one simple memory can stick with you and surface right when you need it. Thanks for being my memory today. Now I've gotta go take my chance on the winds, finish this paper, go to bed, and wake up happy. If I ever find an old school Jets jacket, I'll send it your way.
Peace and love.
j
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