blue girl

On the Radio, Stereo

I don't own an iPod and I don't subscribe to satellite radio. I just listen to the regular old boring radio while I'm driving.

Because I want to be surprised by a good song!

I want to hear that song. That one song I haven't heard in forever that sounds so good that when I finally hear it I feel like I'm stretching a muscle I haven't stretched in forever. That one song that makes me jerk my hand to the dial and turn it up as loud as it can go so that it can soak into every pore of my body.

I pretty much live in a state of expectation. And disappointment. Because it so rarely happens.

I get so bored flipping through the channels trying to find a good song that I'll land on one I just.... know. And I'll keep it there. That's how bored I am. I'll listen to a song I've heard too many times through the years, and there I am, bouncing around in the car, singing along to it, happy to think I've cured my boredom.

After about 15 seconds, I'll realize I'm singing along with passion to something like this.

When I catch myself being happy simply because I recognize a song because every other song is so much worse and that I'm singing loudly to it, like it's some long lost treasure, I laugh. Which is a small pleasure in and of itself.

Cracking myself up has always been a lot of fun.

I gotta take it where I can get it these days.

There is a song now that when it comes on, I instantly turn it up and start moving around and singing.

In a good way.

Hey soul sister
Ain't that mister, mister
On the radio, stereo
The way you move
Ain't fair you know

Good thing too. Because it seems to be the only song radio plays anymore. I heard it three times in 45 minutes, on the way to a meeting this morning.

By the third time, I was singing and sort of cracking myself up. But, it still drew me in.

I imagine that at some future date I will download it on my fantasy iPod. And when I hit shuffle it might come on at some random moment. In that fantasy, I'm not sure I'd move around and sing or crack myself up.

Either way, I imagine it'll be a fun moment.

Mindless Worship

From Nancy Nall:

I don’t think politics is a zero-sum game. I don’t think heads-I-win has to mean tails-you-lose. I really, truly and stupidly believe that politics should be concerned first and foremost with the good of the country and its people — all of them — and that no party has a monopoly on solutions to its problems.

But people like Barton are part of the problem, this mindless worship of business and corporations at the expense of all commonsense or perspec­tive. They represent a huge chunk of the Republican party. It’s time every­body knew what the logical end of their butt-kissing is.

I get why Barton worships at their feet. Traitor! He's bought and paid for by them. What I don't get are the Republican working stiffs I talk to who defended and continue to defend the likes of Halliburton and Blackwater and every other sleazy business out there. A fantasy that one day they'll be raking in the dough like they do, I guess.

It's like they have metal plates in their heads that commonsense can't penetrate. It drives me insane.

Read all of Nancy Nall's post here.

Reading Steve Kuusisto

...as he remembers his friend Deborah Tall.

And she taught me by example: write every day.

Read Steve's whole post here.

Singing Silently

Just now I started to sing a lyric from an old favorite song for the millionth time this morning. It's stuck in my head! I can't get it out! And when I sing, I sing. Loudly. And with feeling.

Even I am getting on my nerves. I started to sing the lyric again then stopped myself. Even though the key is perfect for me!

"Aw, honey, I'm sorry. I'll try to stop."

"Yes! Stop! Please!"

So I did. On the outside.

Not on the inside.

What I wouldn't give for only one night
A little relief in sight
Someday when times weren't so tight
When the day goes down on the water town
When the sun sinks low all around
That's when I know I, I need you now
Yeah, you're what I miss
Every little kiss
Every little wa-uh-uh-uh-uh-one,
Every little one...

Baseball Caps and Satin

At lunchtime today, I drove to a grocery store to get a salad. Before I went in I decided to call a friend. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot and dialed his number.

He began telling me about his new get rich scheme, when I interrupted.

"Hold on, hold on. I have to describe something to you."

"What?"

"Ok, listen to this. There's a woman walking across the parking lot right now, in front of me..."

"Yeah?"

"...on her way into the store. She's wearing a very long, black satin skirt. Very flow-y. It's swooshing to and fro, left to right, right to left as she walks."

"Ooooooh..."

"She's wearing flip flops. And listen. She's also wearing a winter sweater. Gray. A winter sweater! It's, like, 9,000 degrees out! And! The top of the sweater is swooped down beneath both of her shoulders on either side. And get this. She has a ponytail and is wearing an orange baseball cap. Backwards! What is with it? It works though, in a weird way. Gotta give her that."

"Interesting. Baseball caps and satin."

"Yes. And a winter sweater on a smoldering day. Very interesting. People are wild."

And then we we went back to his get rich quick scheme. Which I have to say, might have some merit. If it doesn't kill anyone.

The Amazing Thing

The amazing thing about their conversation is the fact that they hardly even notice the guy doing pull ups on the scaffolding next to them. He’s wearing angel wings, sequins, and a gold thong. His ass is everywhere but where you want it to be. Namely hidden in a nice pair of pants.

From my favorite Eavesdropper. (Capital E out of respect, people.) Go read Brenda's whole post.

The World Series of Music and Memory

I was on a TV shoot today. The camera man had a shock of white hair and his assistant, according to the stories he told me, has a shocking collection of 78s. I learned of his enormous collection after he brought up Cleveland's World Series of Rock Concerts.

"You went to those?" I asked.

"Yeah!"

"Did you go to the one with J. Geils and Peter Frampton..."

"...Bob Seger and Rick Derringer?" He asked, finishing my sentence.

"Yeah!" I said.

"Yeah, I was there." He said.

"I was there!" Said the camera man, popping his head up from framing a perfect shot.

If you know me at all, you know what was to follow.

The infamous frisbee story.

One we must never, ever forget.

And one you probably won't if you keep reading this blog.

Coming Out the Other Side

A man I work with and I got into a conversation today about people who've made it. Made it as in made a lot of money somehow, some way. People like Mohamed Al-Fayed, Bill Clinton, John Edwards, Sarah Palin, Tiger Woods, and the heirs of the Scotts Paper Towels' and Eastman Kodak fortunes, to name a few.

He's an optimist. He thinks most people are good people, including the people who've made it by making a ton of money.

I'm less of an optimist. I also think most people are good people but I think a lot of people (not all) who've made a lot of money have done it by not being very good people.

While the man I work with praised these people for their ability to see what others can't see, to take risks, to be harder working than other people, he also thinks he's suffered the consequences of some old, very bad karma because he wasn't born rich.

I laughed and said, "Could be." Then went back into my office to work off my own old, bad karma. I sat at my desk putting direct mail pieces together in an effort to get new business.

So that I can get rich, rich, rich!

He turned off his computer, put on his aviator shades, and threw his backpack over his shoulder. I said, "You've inspired me to go for bigger things, R.! I'm an empty nester now, so I've got the time to do it again!"

"Oh, no. That's gonna be tough." He said and then shook his head. "This is a weird time. More for women than men, I think."

R. sort of looks and talks like an old hippie, even though I don't think he's an old hippie. Haven't pegged him yet.

He continued, "It's tougher for women, man. They just sort of lose it! And we're gonna get to watch you go through this!"

I laughed and kept putting my direct mailers together.

"You're gonna be, like, all crazy!" He said, dropping his backpack to the floor, as he bounced both of his hands off the air around his head, while wobbling it back and forth.

And I knew exactly what he meant. Because I've been, like, all crazy for the last couple of years.

I laughed and said, "You won't get to see it! You missed it! I've already been through it, I think. The last two years have been rough. I watched my stepfather die, my business go down the tubes, my family split apart because of this recession, and I've been watching my son walk further and further away for awhile now. It's been horrible. The last couple of weeks, I've been a mess. But, I woke up Tuesday morning, Blue Kid's last day of school, and instead of being sad, I was excited for him. And driving home from work that day, it occurred to me how lucky I am. That kid will be a part of my life and I'll know him and be able to get to know him even better as long as I'm alive."

Rich, rich, rich!

R. looked down at the floor for a minute, picked up his backpack, threw it over his shoulder and said, "Yeah. My daughter just turned 35. I don't know when in the hell that happened, man." He turned and walked out of my office towards the front door and yelled, "Later!" right before the door slammed shut.