Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood:

December’s coming o’er the horizon. Just one more November Sunday to manage — after Thanksgiving this month, of course.

Yes, it’s Sunday, November 19, 2023. It’s 40 F in Ashlandia, where we officially remain in drought condition, but at the lowest level. Rain fell off and on through the night after some prolonged and heavy rain yesterday afternoon but October was labeled the state’s 64th driest since 1895. Which, doesn’t sound that bad to me; 128 years have passed since 1895, so 64th driest puts it dead in the middle.

Today’s high temperature will be 48 F. We’re expecting plentiful sunshine, lots of clouds, and some rain, which adds up to a pretty average Ashlandia autumn day.

For some reason, The Neurons planted some lyrics to “Glycerine” by Bush from 1995 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark slippery). “I’m never alone, I’m alone all the time.” I’ve always admired the simplicity and dichotomy as well as the inherent enigma of that line. I think many of us feel like that: I’m surrounded by others — noise, crowds, family, pets, co-workers, traffic, shoppers, etc. — but I’m alone with my thoughts, emotions, and struggles. I don’t know by number how much we usually share with others. They — health professionals — tell us that we shouldn’t keep things bottled in, that it’s better to share with others. But we so often have private fears and worries which we’d rather not show, often without even knowing why. Just coffee reflections.

Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. I’m learning toward more coffee, myself. Here’s the music. I went with a recording of a live show featuring Gwen Stefani. Hope you enjoy it. Cheers

Sunday’s Theme Music

I thought Bush’s Sixteen Stone was an excellent album. Coming out in 1995, it was one of the albums kept in my car to deal with the SF Bay Area Peninsula traffic jams. It ended up as a source for songs that I stream in my head while walking around, too, as it happened today.

Motor on with “Glycerine”.

 

 

Friday’s Theme Music

Today’s music is a little gross.

Supine in bed, I would feel the mucus shifting. It moved with a soft snapping and crinkling sound, like it’s trying to sneak around my head. From that, I began singing, “Mucus stream,” to the tune of Bush’s “Glycerine,” from Sixteen Stone.  I was making up whole verses for it by the time I stole into sleep.

That’s not to denigrate “Glycerine.” I like the song, and enjoyed the album. It still lives in the shuffle space dedicated to that era.

(My CD player holds two hundred discs. They’re divided into eight sections. Sections are assigned genres, eras or purpose. Like, one section is for the blues, and houses Buddy Guy, Albert King, B.B., SRV, etc. Another section is home to classic rock, with Cream, Blind Faith, Traffic, Led Zep, The Who, and so on. Bush lives in the section I call post disco rock, along with Def Leppard, the Scorpions, later Van Halen and ZZ Top, and STP. My wife has a section of her favorites, and I have a section of my favorites. Since my punk and alt offerings are small, I just mix them in with other sections. Anal, aren’t I?)

(And of course, the CDs are stored alphabetically by group or performer’s last name, and I’ve indexed them on an Excel spreadsheet. Yes, anal.)

Returning to the song, the lyrics fascinate me, and I thought the video reflects the song’s mood.

 

 

 

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