Today’s theme music choice emerged reflections on my dream. Written by Paul Simon over fifty years ago, it was used in a movie, The Graduate, as well as standing as a hit on its own. It came about in my stream today because of the reference to a baseball player, Joe DiMaggio.
From 1968, Simon & Garfunkel with “Mrs. Robinson”. Fascinating to listen to the lyrics again.
“We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files.
“We’d like to help you learn to help yourself.
“Look around and all you see are sympathetic eyes.
“Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home.”
I was speaking with Boo, a backyard panther who wandered into our lives several years ago. He was in great shape so I thought that he must be lost. His people were never found and he stayed with us.
Many issues reside in Boo, dealing with trust, other cats, movement, sounds, etc. He seems a little psycho to us. Sweet but psycho is our description of him.
That’s literally the name of a 2018 Ava Max song, “Sweet but Psycho”. It would’ve been surprising if its melody hadn’t sprung into my stream and on into history as today’s theme music.
“Oh, he’s sweet but a psycho, a little bit psycho.” That’s about all that really fits Boo from the song.
Walking with a sense of ennui yesterday, I noticed several blue cars. Teslas, Priuses, Subarus, Volkswagens, BMWs…it was an odd parade of mostly blue cars, with a few silver and green in the mix. All those blue cars brought home the 1996 song, “Counting Blue Cars” by Dishwalla.
I always identified this song with ennui. They’re counting cars and jumping over cracks, like children do, asking questions, like children do, like some people often do without end, searching for an answer, not knowing the question.
Hey, the twenties are almost upon us. This hasn’t gone unnoticed. Almost all of the NYE parties in our town have been inspired to throw a roaring twenties party.
My wife and I are not impressed that they’re paying homage to a decade that ended in the Great Depression. My parents weren’t yet born; her parents, who are deceased, were born in that decade. Nothing about it inspires me to want to party.
No, I’m a child of the rock era. For my theme music for 2019, I’m going with a Prince classic, “1999”, from, um, 1982.
Join my party, or pop up a song that you would like to carry you into a new year and decade. Happy New Year!
I was dreamin’ when I wrote this
So sue me if I go 2 fast
But life is just a party, and parties weren’t meant 2 last
War is all around us, my mind says prepare 2 fight
So if I gotta die I’m gonna listen 2 my body tonight
Counseling myself last night as I stepped out and hunted stars through the descending night fog, I thought about plans, and how easy it is to slip into a comfortable rut and let yourself stay there, successful in the rut to the detriment of everything else. I realized that I’d done that to myself. Easy to do, especially when the rut gives you joy.
My rut is writing. It satisfies me in so many ways, but it definitely steals energy from the rest of my life. I knew I had to shift myself out of my rut when I had my response to agents being interested in some of my work and my response was, meh. That’s just not right.
So I began hunting and shifting the mental and emotional levers to ply myself from my rut. More easily said, am I right? The duality of it all struck me. I’m a person that feels the darkness and rages about once a month, ready to shuck everything in fury and despair. Then that passes and I’m good to go again. I’m fortunate that I know my cycle and cope with it, but not fortunate that I have such a cycle. I’m fortunate, too, that I can see into myself and find the levers to change the cogs. This comes from being sixty plus and having friends and relatives who’d make comments to me that opened my awareness to how others see me, subsequently providing me with greater insight into myself. It comes from luck, too; others know these things but struggle more with it than me. (Yeah, and there’s a ton of other stuff, nature vs. nurture, socialization, genes, etc. We’re dynamic, complicated beings, always playing on the balance of a blade.)
Well, to the music, then, because this is about the day’s theme music. Into this crucible of thought flowed words from “Over My Head (Cable Car)” by The Fray (2005).
Everyone knows I’m in
Over my head
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She’s on your mind
She’s on your mind
h/t to Songmeanings.com for the lyrics, because it’s easier to get them right by copying and pasting.
It was that ‘eight seconds left in overtime’ that I keyed to, not that there was pressure, nor that time was running out, rather the impetus from the image of a sports game that something needs to be done. The goals are clear; now execute. Get ‘er done.
Laborious explanation for a song choice, innit? Happy Monday, campers. Cheers
Today’s theme choice began as I slapped my head and asked, “What am I thinking? Where is my mind?”
I was annoyed with myself for being distracted, feeling like I haven’t been remembering things as I should (and partially blaming writing because I was becoming more intense about it).
Then, “Where is my mind?” circled through again. Parts of a song were seen and heard like minnows flashing in and out of a creek’s shadows. I believed that I knew such a song. I thought, well, I can search for it on the net but I wanted to give myself the chance to remember it.
More song peeked out. I remembered, oh, a movie. Wait, is that right? Yes, yes, there was a movie, the song was used in a movie. I remembered that the movie was Fight Club, and then, like it was beamed into my brain, I recalled, oh, the Pixies, “Where Is My Mind?” That made me laugh. I wasn’t sure what year the song emerged and had to look that up (and also confirm that it’d been used in Fight Club). Yes, to the movie, and 1988.
Listening to this song always makes me smile. Don’t know why. Wow, where is my mind?
I came across my house panther stretched out by the fire last night. His fur’s warm silkiness prompted me to tell him, “Aren’t you hot? You’re almost on fire.” He responded with a purring toe stretch before squeezing his eyes shut again. That kicked me to sing to him (softy, so as to not disturb the precious one), “This cat is on fire,” to the Alicia Keyes song “Girl On Fire” (2012). Speaking with the cat this morning, I remembered the song and thought it a fine theme song for our area, where a hard frost coats the ground with delicate white icing.
Out of an overheard apology as I passed a couple on the street came an overused phrase, “It was just the heat of the moment.” She said it in a dry monotone.
I wondered what’d been said before. Couldn’t say from glancing at the middle-aged couple, he, neatly bearded, in jeans and a silver puffy jacket, she with short blonde hair swept across her forehead, in a tight black jacket, matching tight leggings (don’t know what they’re really called now), and purple running shoes. Sunglasses dancing with reflections hid their eyes.
Here came the old (well, half a lifetime ago (1982) – over a lifetime ago, for some) Asia song, “Heat of the Moment”.
Good morning (from my point of view — good afternoon, good day, etc, addressing yours), world.
Today’s music is due to an earworm. Lizzo has exploded on the scene. Her music is everywhere. I think as much as the interesting lyrics, her attitude draws attention and admiration. I know I’m an admirer.
But, because she’s become so popular (speaking of my tiny world niche), I’m hearing her over and over. Now her song, “Good As Hell” (2016), is stuck in my stream. I need to move it out. Best way to accomplish that is to share it.
Feel free to sing along with her (as I do) to that rousing chorus.
I do my hair toss, check my nails
Baby, how you feelin’? (Feelin’ good as hell)
Hair toss, check my nails
Baby, how you feelin’? (Feelin’ good as hell)
(Feeling good as hell)
Baby, how you feelin’? (Feelin’ good as hell)
For some reason, my mind pivoted through several holiday songs this morning. Then one — by the Scorpions, of course — what other group leaps to mind when you think holiday, right? — lodged in the stream.
It wasn’t so much as the holiday as it was the cold friggin’ air, air that felt it belonged up in Alaska, where a friend mentioned that it was twelve degrees. We weren’t nearly that low, hovering at just under 30 F, with clear skies and sunshine, but that sun was all light and no heat, ya know?
That’s where the Scorpions wiggled into the stream.
Let me take you far away
You’d like a holiday
Let me take you far away
You’d like a holiday
Exchange the cold days for the sun
A good time and fun
Michael Seidel, writer 