on the days when you feel spent

My friend Sarah bought me the new Natalie Merchant album last week.
(Leave Your Sleep)
It's charming.
It's brilliant.

Sarah and I grew up in college together as roomies listening to the quintessential Our Time In Eden and Blind Man's Zoo.
We mouthed every word in candle lit sparsely furnished living rooms while trying on the future.

I love the small book that comes with the CD.
Natalie says some brilliant things about poetry that have stuck with me since I read the words:

I understand that poets are our soft spoken clairvoyants. They tell us about the things that have made us and keep us human. Poets are keepers of the sacred language that describes our holy places-unknown and unknowable.

and who doesn't love to hear Trouble Me still?

perfect day

I am dying for one Fall night to beat down on me- hard like these new days.
I will be driving home from a late night diaper run to Target or something similar.
It will come on the radio and instantly my hand will quick fly to the tuner and dial it in louder than the Ohio Autumn coolness running through my hair.
I will not mouth the words.
I will sing them out for all the neighbors to hear.
Through the dense thick streets where trees may touch in the middle but people still need.

Trouble me, disturb me with all your cares and you worries.
Trouble me on the days when you feel spent.
Why let your shoulders bend underneath this burden when my back is sturdy and strong?
Trouble me.

At this moment you mean everything

jamming to this song yesterday

Green Day - Time Of Your Life

Torn | MySpace Video

It's like when I close my eyes and try to remember when it was in my life that this song blasted from cheap car stereos or from porch parties with boom boxes silver -I always think of her.
We were at a pivotal part of our life-really on the cusp of believing we were grown up.


I think I was hanging out with some bartender who didn't even really like me that flash frozen part of my life in 1997. I was drinking away my tips in an Irish pub best known for brewed beer and 80's dance night -where all the freaks like me could seek shelter from the storm at least two nights a week and fling our arms in the sky.

The bartender was for those fleeting weeks perhaps someone who might save me and turn me into a normal person. He was pleasantly average and attractive. He could make me behave like a girl who made dinner in tiny apartments and didn't go out every single night. A normal girl who loved only one person at a time and had a clear trajectory towards adulthood.

Only he didn't. He just faded away in the outright rude and immature fashion that 23 year old boys do- he just stopped liking me and I faded into the background of a song sung by Dexy's Midnight Runners on a Tuesday night. My shadow flickering across the wood paneled walls never tempted him again and I am sure now that it was because I was intensity wrapped into a parcel that no one could hold for too long.
I was like a firecracker or a hot potato being passed around.
I was dangerous buzzing bee.

Sometimes I wish I could listen to a song from the 90's and just enjoy it.
But I think we are just branded like cattle by the music of our youth.

it's why you see people stare off into space sometimes at cafes
or grannies with wet eyes in the market
or baby boomer's driving convertibles with loud all around

we just can't help it
the music is everywhere
like a tiny melodic line
that leads us straight to the past
to a place we used to know

I'm a bad boy, cause I don't even miss her

I heard Tom Petty's first solo album today -Full Moon Fever and all I could see were the hills so very green of my past and the silver Chevy Cavalier I drove around and around.
The video is burnt in brain too like the urban escalator troubadour and Jerry McGuire can never bastardize this song because years before Tom Cruise rolled along on a movie lot and pretended to feel it I really did.

PBJ & Jazz – Christian Howes

Thank God for Twitter.
I was unprepared for my day and then I saw Cbusmom twitter
that she was going to PBJ & Jazz and so we met her and tinymantras there.
We saw friends from Finny's school and Allison's family too!
It was one of the best Saturday mornings ever.

PBJ&J at the Lincoln Theatre Complex is an amazing series.
We had the pleasure of hanging out with Christian Howes.
It was a packed house and I enjoyed the music as much as I would have
in a dark club with a martini. (perhaps more)
The energy was gorgeous.

(and yes they do serve Peanut butter and jelly sammies and cookies and juice)

You'll be happy and wholesome again

In case you want to know what is blasting out of my house today
What is rolling through my children's ears
I love Mumford & Sons
They are coming to CBUS in May.
I think I may try and take Joe for his birthday date night.

And if your strife strikes at your sleep
Remember spring swaps snow for leaves
You'll be happy and wholesome again
When the city clears and sun ascends

This is the greatest thing in the world.

Buena Vista Social Club - Chan Chan.mp4 from misswell on Vimeo.

If I were a fancy design blog I would paste up gorgeous photos of sexy Cuban women in dresses that slit to the ass cheek and men so handsome with dance moves like danger.

I would throw down pictures of Cuba blurred ever so lovely with photoshop that would make you tumblr crazy.

But I will just say that this CD was on heavy rotation when I lived in Athens in the 90's. I would pull it out when I cooked in my tiny apartment. I would wear aprons and make food for myself and I would think this is the greatest thing in the world. And tonight I think about how lovely it would be to be there. In that video, wearing a low cut dress in red, drinking drinks with ice. Sitting at a small wooden table pressed against my Joe, feeling the music. It's like I don't even need to know what they are saying because it is so good. Like years ago when I had a Greek lover and he might have been saying I was a donkey and my feet were smelly in island whispers long ago. I didn't care. It just sounded like life amplified. Or like today in the post office when I pretended to understand Spanish. These two guys were chatting up a storm and I kept looking at them and raising my eyebrows from time to time. I really freaked them out I think. It just sounded so pleasing to me. I wanted to be there.

Sometimes words just make sounds that make us crazy.

At least there's pretty lights

I am pretty sure that I listened to this song while I sat in the black leather bucket seat of my dad's Super Sport El Camino. There were trees flying past my eyeball corners on Rt. 33 and the sun baked me brown and all I could do was wish the song went on and on all the way to Athens.
I must have been ten years old.
I love it when I find a song again and spend the day with it like a little lover.

Well hot and heavy pumpkin pie

Love that up there, but I may just be a hippie inside. You know me and Joe bought some land in the country ten years ago. We will live there someday without shoes.
I found that video on this blog I now stalk.
xo Happy day.

Alabama, Arkansas,
I do love my ma and pa,
Not the way that I do love you.

Holy Moley, me oh my,
You're the apple of my eye,
Girl, I've never loved one like you.

Man oh man, you're my best friend,
I scream it to the nothingness,
There ain't nothing that I need.

Well, hot and heavy, pumpkin pie,
Chocolate candy, Jesus Christ,
Ain't nothing please me more than you.

Ahh ... home. Let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you.

You’ve done a hundred things before half past nine

like omg- thanks to my pal Jen for sending me this song.
Love it.
Oh Gillian, you’re up with the sun
You’ve done a hundred things before half past nine
By the time most folk are up and gone
You’ll be starting on one hundred and one

There’s not enough hours in a day
To do all the things she’s just got to do
When the daylight fades and the night invades
She’s only just begun

Weary as you lay at night waiting for the sun
Planning out tomorrow now before this day is done
‘Gillian you work too hard’
But don’t you try to slow her down – she’ll tell you
‘Idleness is good for none work's how I get my fun
Idleness is good for none work's how I get things done’

Gillian you’re the one you’re the one
Shining in my life, you’re my eternal sun
I’m trying to thank you now for what I’ve become
But I’ve only just begun

Your influence has been profound and I’m proud to be your son
Your blood is my blood we are forever bound
You’re the inspiration to the way I live my life
I’m singing,
Gillian if you weren’t my mother I would make you my wife
Gillian if you weren’t my mother I’d make you my wife
Gillian if you weren’t my mother I’d make you my wife
Gillian if you weren’t my mother I would make you my wife

to all the mamas doing ten thousands things and still kicking ass!

Are you some kind of medicine man?

She was my friend way back in elementary school and at her house I first saw a OOL sign.
(there is no P in our pool and my god it is funny when yr a kid)

She moved from Maine and that was like Antarctica in my mind and then she left again and how amazing is it that we reconnected once again as adults.
Anyhoo. She sends me music.
Music much cooler than myself.
I love it.
It's way cool to have a friend who knew you before anything really much mattered.

"No, my brother, you have to go buy your own."

I was thinking today about how I felt when I first heard "wish you were here" by Pink Floyd. I must have been 14. I sang it out loud and made little Memorex tapes of it and it was woven into my mind. Then it got overplayed and then just trite and faded quite easily into the background of my life. I think once I romanticized it in a bar in Europe, but that was nearly all the result of some hash. But I heard it today again and like a zip line fast shooting backwards all wind and hands in the air I was there:
And my hair was long and it's original color and I was listening and I may have been 16 then and sitting on the green green grass in my neighbor Jason's yard and it was a boom box and we were content to smoke cigarettes and read Philosophy books that we thought we understood and make words come out of our mouths that made no sense to our little lives and we had no worries and there I was for 5.26 minutes again today and it was glorious.

title post - Say Anything 1989

"Can you dig it? I knew that you could!"

I may from time to time add a song here that lives in my dad's jukebox.
I grew up with one in the living room.
I did not find that cool until much later into my life.
I thought my parents were weird.
We had a vintage coca cola machine in the kitchen too.
My dad collects things. Old cars. Old signs. Weird stuff.
He also drove me to school in an El Camino.
I only have started to realize how cool he is. My dad.

title post- Saturday Night Fever 1977

"Wow, I always thought SAT meant Saturday Afternoon Test. What is up?"


Piper sent me this song the other day and I am so happy to have found him.
He like has a direct pipeline to my past in his music. I am a bit stuck on him.
I also just thought about this old CD the other day and how much I loved this movie in the way way back. God the two Corey's! Remember them? I kinda always went mainstream and said I liked Corey Haim best( he was all adorable), but my inner dirty always had a thing for Feldman. Damn I'm old.

title post- Dream a Little Dream 1989

"We're all going through this. It's our time at the edge."

There is just stuff floating around.
Pinky swear the mood will lift soon over here at Casa all deep and dark and shit.
I thought about Travis today and how me and Joe and our friends J&D (who were our very good friends about ten years ago for a short time before they broke up and we all lost each other to the world) would listen to Travis and go skinny dipping at Stroud's Run in Athens, Ohio. That was a long time ago, but I can still hear the crickets. And I can still remember slightly the awareness of being safe as we floated.
There was not much out there to hurt us.
Not much really.

title post-St Elmo's Fire 1985

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"Nobody takes a picture of something they want to forget."

Sorta Teal

I would like to define it
When it comes creeping around
Give it a name
Or a reason
Explain it like a bad Rachael Ray recipe
Like a argument unresolved at midnight
Like the way carob tastes
But all I do is sling it over my shoulder and carry it around
Keenly aware of the way it feels
But unsure where it comes from
All I know is my mojo left town yesterday
Hitched a ride to some other lucky bastards house
Where he floats around the room telling stories
And making them all laugh
Heads thrown back
Where he takes the lady into a back bedroom and shows her
Most of Copernicus's truth
And then later makes art
Out of nothing at all

title post- One Hour Photo 2002

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