This Will Make No Sense

For one thing, I woke up at 2:33 this morning and I got up.

For another, this is probably one of those personal things that aren't translatable into words.

And what I say may shock you.

As much I love this man to the left <- that guy, Bruce Hornsby, I will always turn up the radio, the CD player, the stereo, the turntable, the computer, the MP3 player when I hear this gruff voice and his jangly guitar. Everything stops. I am 12 or 14 or 15 again. Whatever was burdening my heart is instantly gone and I want to dance. You know, those stupid dances you did when you were 12 or 14 or 15 or 42 when no one else was home and the music just filled you with joy.

This guy ->
Stephen Stills. I had a mad crush on him when I was all of 12 and listened to every Buffalo Springfield song that I could, bought every single, every album I could scrape together the pennies for. Twelves seems young, doesn't it, but it's right on the precipice, right at the Awakening and Stephen Stills woke me up.

I loved that he was helplessly, hopelessly in love with Judy Collins. (Later I worked with a guy who edited a book she wrote and he said she was 100% bat shit crazy.) It gave him the air of the broken and stalwart champion, always waiting for favor.

The first few bars of "Rock 'n' Roll Woman" nearly drove me out of my mind. The plaintive joy of that song wound up in me and all alone in my room, I would dance to it, knowing I had to express it somehow.

I bought a guitar. I had a turntable and would listen over and over and over again to the last notes of "Bluebird", trying to get them right.

I listened and listened to this song. The opening notes make my heart fly, even now. I heard the bass line, Neil Young's guitar, not appreciating them what I appreciate now.

Go here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDjmmCvTH7o
It may not impress you. It still makes me swoon.

And I promise if I wake up at 2:33 tomorrow morning, I will not get up. I will make myself go back to sleep so you won't have to put up with any more of this manic adolescence.

Oh, but he was fine.

Le Week-End

Once upon a time, when someone asked me what I was doing over the weekend, I would realize that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, going on for me over the weekend.

Okay. Ask me now.

"Becs, what are you doing this weekend?"

Well, last night I went to see Herschel to get the Howdy-Doody orange roots taken care of. "Honestly, your natural hair color now is white, so you need to be careful what you put on your hair," he said and I told him that for my 60th birthday, he would shave my head. He said he would shave his, too. He promised to come to the party and bring his sister, Holly.

Then I went up Oak Tree Road to Little India and had every hair on my face and neck ripped out.

Then I went to the Sweet & Savory Shop and got a little prezzie for my new neighbors. The desi girl told me what was acceptable, what was generous, and I went for generous and let her pick out the goodies.

Then I went to Shalimar (King of Sweets!) and was oddly given the cold shoulder by the people working there. I know it was a busy Friday night, but...oh. I was wearing a little silver cross on a necklace. Shalimar (King of Sweets!) is not shy about letting the populace know it is Muslim owned and Muslim run, that the meats served there are halal. And I thought, really? Could that really be it? I hope not.

Came home, knocked on my neighbors' door and presented them with the sweets. Yeah, I had to do it last night, or they would never have lasted overnight in my fridge. I know the limits of my self-control. The neighbors were glad and invited me in several times.

This morning, I slept until 8:30. Alert the media. 8:30. Me. The "gosh, it's six a.m., it's late!" girl.

Now I'm getting ready to go fetch Phoebe.

I strong-armed Wes and Sandy into meeting me tonight for dinner at a place midway between my house and theirs.

Tomorrow in the very wee hours, an hour in the Adoration Chapel at St. Fatty's. Mass.

At 10 am, a ride of 20+ miles.

At 2 pm, the A Capella Singers.

Yeah. That's my weekend.

And I think it is so cool.