This: too funny.
Who was the poet who wrote, “Into every life a little rain must fall,” was it Coleridge?* No matter. He was guilty of understatement. Sometimes every life gets deluged.
I’m not writing about my own life, at least not now. But there is a depressingly long list of friends of mine who wouldn’t be considered remotely vain for thinking this
song post was about them. And that sucks.
The 10,000 Maniacs song “Like the Weather” comes to mind, and not in the random way tunes usually worm their way into my consciousness. Here in Chicagoland, the rain just won’t stop. On our Cubs blog, Tim suggested tricking Kosuke “April is my only good month” Fukudome into thinking April lasted for 180 days. Somehow the weather deemed that a fantastic idea.
This rain just won’t stop falling, and I don’t really understand why.
And I get a shiver in my bones just thinking about what some people I love have been going through lately. Some of it’s annoying like a rained out picnic. Some of it’s depressing like three days without sunshine. And then there are lives I’ve seen ravaged by events as unforgiving and savage as tornados.
It’s not a contest. I don’t care to compare, say, the loss of a child to the loss of a friend or to the loss of a job, an opportunity, or just hope in general. All I know is that far too many people are getting drenched by the far too many storms.
I don’t want to complain. Well, yeah, I do. But I know everybody has a lot to be thankful for. (Like sentences that begin with conjunctions and end with prepositions. And fragments.) Still, I wouldn’t say no to a little sunshine. A June day that doesn’t feel like April 85. A break for my friends. Maybe that is too much to ask.
But right now I’m on my knees. Asking. For just a few sunshiny days.
*These are the things I ask when I’m posting from my phone and don’t feel like rifling through the interplumbing for answers.
Today’s video playlist:
There might be a point to this post, who knows?
There might be an answer coming to the last trivia question. Who knows?
The Cubs might win one against the Yankees. Who knows?
Someone may have heard that tree fall in the forest.
The light at the end of the tunnel just might be you.
It might be. It could be. Who knows?
Cannonballs may have already been forever banned.
Green Lantern might not be as bad as the critics say it is.
There’s probably a reason. Who knows?
Why did I forget to press ‘publish’?
Is this long enough?
Does it make any sense?
Does anything make any sense?
Another Friday, another playlist, another wish I was more faithful with trivia, and another long-awaited question:
Who was the last person to set foot on the moon?*
And here’s the playlist for those unable to listen:
“Hate it Here,” Wilco
“Every Day I Write the Book,” Elvis Costello
“That’s How I Got to Memphis,” Solomon Burke
“Fast Car,” Tracy Chapman
“I Turn My Camera On,” Spoon
Today’s trivia comes with a playlist instead of some fancy shmancy verbosity (though verbosity is no slouch of a word). And the question should be easy, even though I had to look it up because I couldn’t remember it to save my life. But remembering things without looking them up is your job. Here’s the question:
Who was Marie Antoinette’s husband?
Now, enjoy today’s five-song playlist. Or don’t. (In case you can’t access the player, I’ll just tell you the songs:
“It Could Make You Cry,” Brett Dennen
“Send Me on My Way,” Rusted Root
“Going to California,” Led Zeppelin
“Heavenly Day,” Patty Griffin
“Maybe I’m Amazed,” Wings
It’s a short playlist after a long week. But it’s awesome. So if you have the means to listen, I highly recommend it.
Today’s playlist comes on the penultimate day of life as we know it. It comes on a day when the news of Randy “Macho Man” Savage’s death snapped into the peace and quiet that was this Friday morning. It comes on a day when everything seems to be getting a grand shake-up. It comes on a day when the only thing I’ve eaten so far is a chocolate-chip Pop-Tart. I have to change that as soon as I can.
I highly doubt the Rapture will happen tomorrow at 6:00 PM, but you know what? I don’t know for sure. I don’t know that 7:00 PM tomorrow has included me in its plans. I don’t know that the routines I enjoy each and every day will go unshattered.
What I do know is that there are people I love, and it’s not enough just to hope that they know that. I need to tell them. I need to show them. I refuse to live this moment as if it’s my last, because that’s just too freaking depressing. But I don’t want to live my life waiting either. I don’t want the people I love to spend one second wondering if they’re good enough or doubting that they matter. You are good enough for me (for what that’s worth). You do matter. If you’re reading this, yes, you matter to me. I love you. Probably. At least a little. If you’re not sure, ask. I’ll let you know.
Listen. Or, alternatively, do not.
This is three posts in a row right now with nothing but playlists. I’m disappointed by that but also glad I’m at least posting something here to keep this particular pool of ideas from being overrun by algae. I want to post a lot of things, but I just haven’t taken the time to let anything crystallize.
In addition to the playlist, though, I do want to express my excitement for tomorrow’s event, Listen to Your Mother at 7:00 at the historic Memorial Opera House in downtown Valparaiso. It is produced, directed, emceed, and overall inspired by my friend Stephanie, who I’ve known in three distinct lives. It’s true.
When people ask what this event is, the best way I know how to answer is: Awesome. When they press me for more details, I say it’s really awesome.
Then I say that it is a dozen local writers reading short (like 5 minutes or so) pieces about mothers, motherhood, momness. Each one is different, although I have enjoyed every single one immensely every time I heard them. I feel privileged to be a part of it, especially since I’m a dude who could (and maybe should) have been easily dismissed as not mommy enough. Fortunately for me, I have a truly wonderful mother who definitely does deserve to be a part of this. Since I’ll be reading something about her, I don’t feel so out of place.
The other thing that makes me feel so glad and welcomed is just how amazing the other writers in this show are (I’m not the only guy, either, for which I’m grateful; Patrick is awesome). It’s not that I feel I deserve to be in such fine company, it’s just that they’re so great and so much fun, I don’t feel the least bit guilty coming along for the ride. I’m just not going to look that gift horse in the mouth . . . whatever that means, I’m not doing it.
I’m also really excited/nervous to meet face to face with people I’ve met only on twitter. It should be fun. Or completely frightening. Either way, not boring. And of course I’m excited for my mom to hear what I wrote and remembered and embellished and genuinely feel. I hope the experience, however minor, serves as a nice Mother’s Day gift to her . . . because I really don’t want to have to shop.
Without further ado (wait, how about just a little more ado . . . okay, thank you) here’s this week’s playlist full of mom-related music.
Don’t judge me. K?