Another sunny day

(Click here to download the soundtrack to this entry.)

I was sorting through the folders on my computer this afternoon and ran across this guy. I don't remember where I got the picture but I'm glad I kept it. The look on his face makes me feel calmer about my present state of uncertainty, reminds me that even when I think I know exactly what's happening and where I'm headed – nobody ever really knows, until they get there. And so it's OK to let go sometimes, and see where my life takes me. Try and have a little faith.

In one of those documentaries about the stock market crash I saw an interview with a couple of elderly guys who'd been stock brokers on the floor the day it happened. They talked about what it was like that day, seeing guys just walking around stunned – and later, hearing about people jumping out of their office windows rather than face financial ruin. "It's not like everyone was committing suicide," they said. "But some people did." They shook their heads and exchanged a glance.

The thing that struck me was that they were smiling and even laughing sometimes, as they told the story. Who knows what that really means – sometimes people smile and laugh because they're trying not to break down in tears – but I got the impression that they were expressing tenderness for their former selves, remembering a difficult time with the compassion that comes from taking the long view of things. I do that sometimes myself, when I start to feel overwhelmed – remind myself that someday I can look back on my own hard times with a smile, and hopefully with gratitude for whatever there is to be experienced.

And there is a lot of that. Music, for one thing. For a few years I've been in the habit of not ever listening to it, holding it in reserve for when I really needed it – kind of like reserving caffeine for days when you have a bad headache – and it's working. I've been pulling out old recordings I haven't listened to in a long time, and checking out lots of new stuff from the library too. It's pretty amazing to have such an easy way to feel better. And singing! I'm learning so many new songs, and singing everywhere – in my yard, on the roof, in the garage, walking with the dog ... that feels good too.

Another thing is the sun. Everything is warm and green and lush after the rain a few weeks ago. The yard is full of birds and fall flowers. Everything smells good, and I'm getting a lot done around the house – daily stuff like baking and cleaning, and more complicated chores I've been putting off literally for years.

I might even have time to write some decent blog posts again one of these days. Right now though I'm going to take Tater for another walk. The sun is going down and the colors are amazing, and it's supposed to rain this weekend.

We now return to ourregularly scheduled inanity

Remember this one? I bought a bunch of songs off it a few months ago while in the throes of my own personal Freaks & Geeks revival, and somehow, even though at the time the album came out I felt I was waaaay too cool to like it, the passage of nearly 30 years has managed to render it deeply nostalgic for me .... Mainly, I remember dancing to Come Sail Away in the dim early evening light of my junior high school cafeteria, and the overwhelming relief I felt when the song broke away from the slow start and started rocking out – which meant I was finally released from the trembling arms of the earnest, eager, and anxious 13-year-old boy who was sweatily clutching the back of my rust-colored velour v-neck sweater.

Those were the days!

I also remember the theme of that dance – Jungle Love (another great song from the 70s) – and I remember lying on a large expanse of butcher paper on the floor of the cafeteria several days before the dance, painting an enormous wall-sized mural that included palm trees, an ocean sunset, and a strangely asymetrical sailboat – all things I had never seen before in real life but felt qualified to draw due to my recent obsessive study of all things Fantasy Island. This would have been in 1978.

Strange to think that kids these days ("kids these days") have instantaneous access to such vast quantities of music. For me back then, just finding a 45 of a song I liked was a major accomplishment; I hardly ever bought any music, in fact, because I never seemed to have any money, and what money I had I preferred to spend on books.

Anyway. I'm working late, and gettin' down at my desk with some fine late 20th-century schlock rock. Thanks, iTunes!