Sunday’s Theme Music

I first heard this song when I was thirteen.

My family had moved away from Wilkinsburg, PA, to a housing plan in Penn Hills, a few miles away. My friends were in Wilkinsburg and I kept going back to see them. In one of those early trips, the only friend I found on my old street, McNary Boulevard, was Richard O’Leary. A bluff and big good-natured child, Richard was a few years older than me, but had failed a few grades, becoming my classmate.

Richard lived in a small, narrow house on the brick-paved Wesley Street. It was a classic, hugely steep Pittsburgh hill. Richard’s family was large, with one older sister still living at home with her own little sister. They were a poor family, too, a point that pained Richard.

Having all those older brothers and sisters kept Richard knowledgeable about pop music. That early Sunday morning, he was raving about the Fifth Dimension and a song called “The Wedding Bell Blues”. Richard kept singing the opening lines, “Bill. I love you so, I always will.” I suspect that his older sister’s boyfriend, the father of her child, was named Bill, so the song was being played often in the home.

It’s a fond memory of an early sunny, cool, Sunday morning.

 

Saturday’s Theme Music

As many people who I’ve met that loooove the Grateful Dead, I’ve met an equal amount who said, “I just don’t get them.”

It’s like food, movies, sex, and literature, innit? One person’s favorite does nothing for someone else.

I’m a fan of them, and saw them twice in concert before Jerry Garcia passed away. Both concerts featured long jam sessions, and one concert featured a couple having sex on the floor in the back of the hall.

This song, “Touch of Grey”, was released in 1987, and was part of the concert I saw in Germany. The song was okay to me back then, but as grown in my appreciation as I’ve aged and acquired a touch of grey. I will get by, I will survive is a good refrain to sing to yourself when shit happens.

I enjoy this video. I thought it a perfect Grateful Dead vehicle.

Friday’s Theme Music

Slipstreaming through the streaming flow that sometimes seem to be my thoughts (and other times seem to belong to others), I come across a cache of STP, shorthand for Stone Temple Pilots (and not Scientifically Tested Petroleum or something else).

There are several jewels in the cache. Demonstrating its own affinity, my mind goes with “Interstate Love Song”. Released in the music-rich environment of the SF Bay Area, the song quickly became a favorite commuting tune. Coming out in 1994, it saw through retirement from the Air Force into the transition to being a civilian and finding a job in 1995.

Enjoy.

Okay

I’ve noticed people doing this.

I’ve notice that I do it.

After completely something, say reading a few pages of a book, people take a deep breath, let it out, and say, “Okay.” Based on observations and personal experience, it’s a psychological preparatory step. They and I have been putting something off that we planned to do, something we’re not really happy about doing, I think. We keep telling ourselves that we’re going to do it. We’ve have the conversation with ourselves that we can’t put it off any longer, that we’ve stalled long enough, that we are going to do it, and we’re going to do it now. 

“Okay.”

I don’t know where this comes from, but I suspect that I’m mimicking someone in the past, or maybe my wife. I’ve heard bosses say it in this same way. I hear myself say it, and I hear my spouse. I hear people in stores say it to themselves while they’re stocking shelves, and I hear it from baristas in coffee shops as they turn away from the counter.

Deep breath. Release. (Sometimes a sigh.) “Okay,” so soft, it’s like they’re talking to themselves.

I’ve heard it from all age groups, including a young girl. She seemed like a six-year old by size and expression. She was standing about six feet from a car. I saw her take the breath. I heard her say, “Okay.” Then she turned and walked back to the car.

“Okay.”

Okay seems like a uniquely American expression, even if some claims to its origins begin in Germany, Greek, Scotland, and Haiti, along with Puerto Rico and French Louisiana. I have heard it used in foreign television shows made in exotic places like Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the U.K. I don’t know if the residents of those lands use okay in this context, as a final acknowledgement to oneself, it is time.

Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

Okay.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Today’s song, “Going Down/Love In An Elevator,” came out in 1989. I was stationed in Germany with the USAF when it was released. It immediately became a unit favorite.

The album, Pump, was a damn good Aerosmith album, equal to the task for rocking old rockers and stimulating some new ones to join the ranks.

 

Hello, August

Hey, all you hep writers out there in writing land. Hope this post finds you in the writing groove on this first day of the eighth month of the eighteenth year of this new century.

When does this stop being the new century? It’s still a young century as the age of centuries go, just in its teens, which could be why it’s rebelling against everything and challenging every word. Just old enough to vote in some places, old enough to marry, depending upon where you live, and not old enough to drink in some areas, the century brings to mind Alice Cooper’s song, “I’m Eighteen.”

I got a Baby’s brain and an old man’s heart
Took eighteen years to get this far
Don’t always know what I’m talkin’ about
Feels like I’m livin in the middle of doubt
Cause I’m Eighteen
I get confused every day
Eighteen
I just don’t know what to say
Eighteen
I gotta get away

h/t to Genius.com

Sure sounds like this year and century, doesn’t it?

I sometimes feel that I’m eighteen as I go through my writing processes. Each writing session offers its own challenges and rewards. When I measure it all, I hope the results are worth it, but there are times, man, there are times when confused, disparaging whispers echo in the chasms of my mind.

I prevail, in the same fashion as most writers, by venting, raging, sulking, drinking, reading, shrugging, and writing, and then writing more. I often wonder what I’d be like had I not heard the writing call, but then, I wonder about that with every area of my life. What if I’d not married the woman that I did, or what if I hadn’t joined the military, and so on, as billions upon billions of people have done.

In the end, August of 2018 feels a lot like January of 2018, a hopeful period that also looks daunting.

Time to write like it’s 1999.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Jeff Healey was another performer who died too young. Forty-one when he passed away from cancer, he started playing guitar when he was very young, and achieved fame, recognition, and commercial success for his skills.

I came across two of his albums in my CD collection the other day. From that, I started streaming Healey’s cover of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” as I walked through the smoky heat. The original song, as recorded by the Beatles (with Eric Clapton) is a favorite song of mine. Prince’s performance of the solo at the 2004 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremonies still mesmerizes me.

So, pick any of those, or any of the many other covers of the song, as today’s theme music. I’m staying with Healey for today.

 

 

Monday’s Theme Music

Today’s music is “In My Blood” by Shawn Mendes. It was released this year, 2018.

I’d been thinking about the work left in my series, Incomplete States, just to finish the beta edition, and then the revisions and editing left to take it to publication. I was also thinking that it has a strong chance of being read by few to no people. With all that to do, and other writing projects and life opportunities in limbo while I’m working on it, I thought, why not give up? Give up writing this series, and write something simpler and smaller. Why, in fact, write at all, with the odds so heavy against me?

Then the lyrics from “In My Blood” streamed in.

Help me, it’s like the walls are caving in
Sometimes I feel like giving up
No medicine is strong enough
Someone help me
I’m crawling in my skin
Sometimes I feel like giving up
But I just can’t

It isn’t in my blood
It isn’t in my blood

h/t to genius.com

Researching the song, I discovered that Mendes had written it in response to his struggles with anxiety disorder. Once again, as often happens, I became revitalized by reading of others who struggled and succeeded. If they made it, so can I.

So, thank you, Shawn Mendes.

 

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