Of course, only the first line had a remote connection to what was going on. I was waiting, they came, we said a few things, and went on with our business. That’s a bit unlike the Foo Fighters’ song, “Everlong” (1997) about being happy in a relationship and realizing it was ending, and if anything will ever be as wonderful as that.
Yeah, been there, more than once. Once there’s a fracture in the relationship, it doesn’t seem like anything is ever the same again. From the break comes loss, confusion, and distrust. You put it behind you, but it nags like an ulcer on your lip.
Today’s song arrived in the stream last night when I was thinking about change. Deliberate and focused change for people is often hard for all the elements of comfort and routine that our habits incorporate. It’s easier to do as we’ve always do rather than embracing a new way. These change require time, mindfulness, discipline, and persistence to see them through.
Thinking along those line as I walked through the back yard introduced the song, “Tulsa Time” by Don Williams (1978). It’s a country and western song, not generally my milieu, but I’ve lived in places back that catered to country and western music tastes, heard it, and picked it up. Then Eric Clapton did a few live versions of it.
I was amused but reflecting on the song, I conclude that “Tulsa Time” was a metaphor for trying and failing to change.
Well, then I got to thinkin’
Man I’m really sinkin’
An I really had a flash this time
I had no business leavin’
An nobody would be grievin’
If I just went on back to Tulsa time.
This song popped up due to a FB meme featuring Frank Zappa. After some bits of his songs streamed through my head, his biggest U.S. hit, “Valley Girl” (1982), got into it.
“Valley Girl”, valspeak, and the entire valley girl phenomena thundered through popular culture in the 1980s. “Gag me with a spoon” became a standard catchphrase until you were ready to strangle anyone uttering it.
Yesterday, someone said, “I waste too much time. Every night, I think of the things that I wanted to do that I didn’t do, and think of the time that I wasted.”
I didn’t agree or disagree. I understand what’s he saying. When he said he was wasting time, he meant that he’d planned to accomplish things that day and didn’t. He did other things instead. In answer to my question about that, he said, “Read, watched the news, read more, ate and drank beer.” He laughed.
Was it really wasted time? No, just not time used as planned. But people get the sense they’re running out of time. They’re coming up on deadlines, end of life, a new week, month, or season.
I’ve drifted away from that. Part of my drift is because so much of what’s on our lists are impermanent matters given amplified importance. You got to sort through these things and decide what’s really important, and what’s just being driven by the ghosts of the past called tradition, or the demons of expectations.
Meanwhile, the conversation naturally kicked a song into the stream. Several, in fact. One that surprised me leaped in from 1972 and an album called Eat A Peach, when I was sixteen. That Allman Brothers album, released after Duane Allman’s death, had a lock in my playlist for over a year, joining another Allman Brothers favorite, At Fillmore East, a double live album.
The song that jumped out was, “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More”. It really came, again, as I stepped out and called in a cat last night. I looked up for the stars. The cat was right there, but clouds obscured the stars. From there came the song’s lines,
Lord, lord Miss Sally, why all your cryin’?
Been around here three long days, you’re lookin’ like you’re dyin’.
Just step yourself outside, and look up at the stars above
Go on downtown baby, find somebody to love.
I went out to call in a cat last night and found a surprisingly clear night, full of stars. Quiet, the air felt mildly warm. I breathed it all in and scanned the stars. That brought the Foo Fighters’ 2003 song, “Times Like These” into my stream as the cat popped up over the fence, leaped down and ran across the yard to me.
I’m a new day rising
I’m a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I was at a dinner, a fund-raiser featuring bids on wine and various gifts and donations, all to raise money to help expand cultural awareness and help people with the cost of higher education. I was chatting with a friend when the bidding was about to commence. He said, “Oh, time for me to fly,” and went off to bid.
Boom, here came REO Speedwagon’s 1978 song, “Time for Me to Fly”. The song is all about giving up on a relationship that hasn’t worked out, and then leaving. Naturally, my buddy thought of the leaving context, as in time to get to another place in a hurry. I’ve always thought of it more simplistically, as in time to spread my wings, do stuff, and get things done.
My monthly cycle is on the upswing. Love it when that happens. Much better than the dark troughs.
Dark days come once a month. I call it monthly but, you know, it’s a few days shorter than that, just a time when my optimism surrenders to my pessimism, and discouragement bludgeons encouragement into despair. During the worse of them, I’m in an echo chamber asking myself, “What’s the use? Is there a point to any of this crap?”
But today, it’s a triple high. Discouragement runs away, pessimism flees, and optimism and hope take office on high, declaring, “Everything is going GREAT.”
In honor of this monthly mini-holiday, Peter Gabriel’s 1987 song, “Big Time”, has entered the stream.
Big Time, I’m on my way I’m making it, big time, Huh!
Big time, I’ve got to make it show yeah, big time
Big time, so much larger than life
Big time, I’m gonna watch it growing, big time
Big time, my car is getting bigger Big time, my house is getting bigger
Big time, my eyes are getting bigger
and my mouth
Big time, my belly’s getting bigger
Big time, and my bank account
Big time, look at my circumstance
Big time, and the bulge in my big big big big big big big big big big big big big big big, hi there
This song, “Hold On” (1983) is by Yes and comes from one of my favorite albums, 90125. The song entered today’s song when I was corresponded with someone down who was thinking about different career options, I told them to hold on, of course. Later, reflecting on the exchange, the song came to me. So, I share it with you.
As I was pondering choices and pandering to pets, I mumbled, “Whatever gets us through the day.” The song stream kicked in. Up came John Lennon’s energetic melody, “Whatever Gets You Thru the Night” (1974).
Ah, it’s a good song for a Thursday, Friday…whatever.
I was doing my pre-writing walk through Ashland this morning, shuffling through golden leaves that’d lived their last, pushing against a nippy chill and leaning toward thin morning sunshine whenever it was found, when songs streamed in from the ethos. First up was the Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations” but “Get It On (Back A Gong)” by T. Rex replaced it after a few blocks.
I decided the latter would be a good theme song this morning, but I wanted to go with the cover. Who the hell did the cover?
Well, my mind quickly abandoned that question, returning to writing — that’s what the walk is all about — but as I entered the coffee shop at the end of the two miles, my brain said, The Power Station, 1985.
Michael Seidel, writer 