To Inspire, To Delight…

I thrive on the arts. Written or performed, film or theater–all of it rejuvenates me. Sometimes, after leaving a movie theater or another artistic event, I get this weird, crazily giddy feeling, almost like I want to run through the streets, whooping like a madwoman. I feel inspired, moved, excited. It’s an interesting feeling. What IS that feeling? The afore-mentioned adjectives really do nothing to encapsulate what it all is…

I was in the car with my BFF a few years ago, en route to some adventure, and we were listening to Rod Stewart (I heart that old guy so much, I don’t know what to do). *”Downtrain Train” came on, and she watched as I entered into this trance as the melody began. I then proceeded, gesticulating wildly, to tell her why the song was so DEEP and DO YOU HEAR WHAT HE’S SAYING, what he MEANS when he says this line, that he truly LOVES and UNDERSTANDS her more than any of her suitors? She remained silent, calmly watching as I ranted and raved over the music. Her response?

“No, I have no idea what he means, or what you mean. But, please promise me to marry a man that will understand your love of music. Don’t compromise that. Look at you! You’re crazy over this!”

Ha! Marital stuff had been the topic of conversation before we popped in the CD, which explains the context. But I took her words to heart and I still do. Perhaps there aren’t any words to describe that feeling I get when I hear music, or leave a concert hall, or during the quiet moments before the movie starts, or when I’m lost in the pages of the latest book. Except love.

*Downtown Train (composed by Tom Waits, performed by my secret boyfriend, Rod Stewart).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ffj6hKN2n0

Outside another yellow moon

has punched a hole in the night time mist

I climb through the window and down to the street

I’m shining like a new dime

The downtown trains are full

full of all them Brooklyn girls

They try so hard to break out of their little worlds

You wave your hand and they scatter like crows

They have nothing that’ll ever capture your heart

They’re just thorns without the rose

Be careful of them in the dark

Oh if I was the one you chose to be your only one

Oh baby can’t you hear me now, can’t you hear me now

Will I see you tonight on a downtown train

Every night, every night its just the same

On a downtown train

I know your window and I know its late

I know your stairs and your doorway

I walk down your street and past your gate

I stand by the light of the four way

and watch them as they fall, oh baby

They all having their heart attacks

They stay at the carnival

But they’ll never win you back

Will I see you tonight on a downtown train

Every night, every night its just the same

You leave me lonely

Will I see you tonight on a downtown train

All my dreams, all my dreams fall like rain

On a downtown train

Will I see you tonight on a downtown train

Every night, every night its just the same

Will I see you tonight on a downtown train

All my dreams, all my dreams fall like rain

On a downtown train

On a downtown train

All my dreams fall like rain

On a downtown train

Le premier jour d’Automne!

Yeah, I go all French when I’m happy, apparently. (Which means those pesky French teachers were right? I do secretly love the language? It’s no secret; I could listen to francais all day long. But verb conjugation and root canal share plenty of similarities.) Anyway…

It’s the first day of fall! And it’ll be 90 degrees! The weather, if anything, is consistently inconsistent. Nevertheless, despite it feeling like summer on the first day of fall, it’s official!

Here’s a poem from the canon about autumn. I wrote it a few years ago. One of my personal favorites, which is a stretch, being that I wrote it and can see all the ways it could be improved. But it reminds me, not only of my favorite season, but of someone from my past that likes to pop up in my mind here and there. And the memories are nice.

Here goes:

Autumn Song

This was our favorite time of year.

We waited for it eagerly;

we quietly laughed at those who swallowed the

warm sunshine and the long, hot days,

wanting just a quick blast of crisp, cold air

to silence them.

But our time came soon enough.

We drank the season in until we couldn’t

bear it anymore, which was not usual,

because we always bore it, you and I, traipsing

outside whenever we had the chance.

(which was all the time)

But those days are gone.

The autumn moon is mine and mine alone to

enjoy; you went to a place where

the dreaded summer is a constant, and perhaps

to your liking. Who knows?

For a time, I was set on hating this season because of your

unfair absence, as if blaming nature was a good

way of blaming you.

Not so.

Whatever happened, whatever happens, my chances to

run outside and hear my footsteps reverberating upon

burgundy and brown and golden ground will never

be wasted, not for you or for anyone.

Though this time leaves as quickly as it enters,

unlike my brief time with you,

it means something.

So this is goodbye.

To State the Obvious…

Here they come…lessons in the obvious.

• It’s Friday, it’s payday, and I’m thrilled. I usually refrain from getting too excited about Fridays, being that the it’s-already-back-to-Monday letdown is the worst, but whatever. It’s Friday! And I got paid!
• Ben Affleck’s new movie (“The Town”) is just “Good Will Hunting” with a crime factor. Just saying. All they need is a cameo from Matt Damon and Robin Williams and you have GWH2: Robbing Banks.
• Suppressing my desire for a dog isn’t working, not when I constantly gaze at the photo below of my imaginary T-shirted dog. Seriously, the cuteness is killing me.
• The official first day of fall is September 22. Woo and hoo. (Although, quite honestly, the cool mornings and mild afternoons indicate that fall is already here, just without the leaves. I’ll keep that in mind when the leaves finally come and a week later, it’s winter. It’s autumn’s way of playing with my mind.) *

That’s all for now…obviously.

*A few words from John Mayer that came to mind regarding the autumn issue, from his song “Something’s Missing”:

When autumn comes, it doesnt ask.

It just walks in, where it left you last.


And you never know, when it starts


Until there’s fog inside the glass around your summer heart.

Atticus Finch and Other Impossibilities

I want a dog.

Look at that T-shirt! I’m about to collapse from the cuteness.

As you can see. The problem with this particular desire is that 1) I moved back in with Mama a few years ago. There is no way said Mama would agree to a dog. If I were to rebel and get one anyway, I have visions of mickeys being slipped into my iced tea and being shipped to some faraway country while I soundly sleep as punishment (this is how you punish offspring over 30). And 2) who would take care of little Atticus Finch? (That being my little future Yorkie’s name, of course, in homage to my favorite literary character and just an all-around cool name). Anyway, yes, who would actually take care of him? I leave in the morning; come home at night; party like it’s 1999 on the weekends (not really, but I’m usually running all over town on the weekends); so on and so forth. Where would be the time to give Atti the care and concern and attention he needs? This is why Atticus Finch will remain in my subconcious and imagination until I figure something out…

One day…

To All the Stories I’ve Loved Before…

I have a jump drive, disk drives, notebooks, etc., etc., full of stories that I’ve started, that I’ve really gotten into, that even intrigue me, the writer who cannot be pleased–and they continue to sit there, unfinished, suspended in mid-air.

This frequently happens in my life. I get excited about something and I throw my name into the hat and I get into it…for about a month. Then I get a little itchy for change. Well, no, really itchy for change. And so, when I realized this about myself, I decided to become much more devoted to things that I invite into my life. Stick with it, Girley! So far, I’ll give myself a C for progress.

Nevertheless, these unfinished stories aren’t half bad…perhaps, instead of bemoaning a lack of ideas (not so much lately, actually; I happen to be bursting at the seams creatively, thank goodness), I work on what I have? It’s an idea.

In other news, I begin a water aerobics class on Sunday. In line with all the above, regardless of likely sharing the water with ladies who will remind me of the Golden Girls, I will stick!

In other, other news, San Diego was awesome. Terrific, beautiful, quiet, relaxing. It was everything that I wanted it to be there and more. The only hitch was, when I travel again, I will shell out money for hotel luxury. The Comfort Inn did its duty and it was a room, but in such a beautiful city, the choice could have been better. And the fact that I could hear people traipsing up and down the hallway, having conversations in the parking lot, and gingerly passing by a chicken bone on my way to my car pretty much solidified my decision to go forth with hotel luxury. No more two stars for convenience. Hello, Doubletree and the likes of you.

While in SD, I began a book called “Juliet” by Anne Fortier. It was an interesting, intriguing (second use of this word, so I obviously and officially enjoy using it) read. It was about a young woman learning that she had descended from Shakespeare’s Juliet, thereby implying that Juliet was a real person. Excellent plot, needless to say. Pretty good. So I’m on the hunt for the next, new book…

Me, sitting adjacent to the mighty Pacific in SD, reading the book referenced above.