First thing I remember.

This title of this entry is in honor of the realization I had about the parallel structure of Paul Simon's "Late in the Evening" and Better than Ezra's "Recognize." Not that it's earth-shattering. It's just that I realized it all of a sudden and was surprised at how I had missed it for so long.

To be honest, the only reason I'm checking in here is to say that I've been feeling as intense need to be creative. Maybe it has something to do with spring. I've made a purse, which is what I am most proud of. I've redesigned this blog thing. Kinda. I've been shooting some pictures. I feel like busting out my watercolors. To paint what, I'm not sure.

The good question, though, is why the heck am I sitting in the library?

Lighten up.

It's definitely time for some mindlessness.

This is the "soundtrack to my life" thing where I put iTunes on shuffle and let it pick the songs that will accompany the following scenes in my life. I stole this off someone's Facebook. Isn't it funny the things that it assumes would be a part of everyone's life? Anyway, no time for analyzing. I just thought that some of these were kind of appropriate, some funny. And what's up with all the James Taylor?

Opening credits: "Picture" - Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow
First day at school: "My Stupid Mouth" - John Mayer
Falling in love: "Levon" - Taylor Hicks
The fight: "Things Change" - Dwight Yoakam
Breaking up: "Reelin' in the Years" - Steely Dan
Prom: "Walking Man" - James Taylor
Life's okay: "Girl on the Wing" - the Shins
Mental breakdown: "I Walk the Line" - Joaquin Phoenix
Driving: "Sweet Baby James" - James Taylor
Flashback: "Handy Man" - James Taylor
Getting back together: "At the Stars" - Better Than Ezra
Wedding: "You've Got a Friend" - James Taylor
Birth of child: "Blue Eyed Soul" - Wilco
Final battle: "One of These Things First" - Nick Drake
Death scene: "She's Only Happy in the Sun" - Ben Harper
Funeral: "Yesterday" - the Beatles
End credits: "Empty" - Ray LaMontagne

Thank you for riding the Raven.

Twenty-three is the age that scares me. It is the threshold of oblivion. It is the age when the numbers start to blur. Or perhaps that was twenty-two. If twenty-two was the apex of the hill on the roller coaster, twenty-three is the initial descent. I know it sounds like I am describing turning forty and rolling over the hill. Maybe forty is that big drop with lots of air-time, but this twent-three that I am contending with now is that first teaser hill. The one that makes you realize there's no turning back.

I don't really like roller coasters that much.

And I never thought that age would bother me. Age ain't nothin' but a number, right? Maybe so, but if time passes without fail twenty-four hours each day, these numbers start to add up. How did all these "sands through hourglass" pile up so quickly, and who is shoveling them? Call me Hootie (or the Blowfish, if you prefer), but I don't want to believe in Time. Just thinking about it is enough to make me hold my breath -- an attempt to slow things down.

But as for the age of twenty-three itself, well, I don't know. It's less about feeling older and more about being more aware of time. But so far, I can't say it's wonderful. In the course of the few days since my birthday, I've suffered several minor set-backs involving everything from inexplicable numbness in my hand (they all say it'll pass) to a series of road detours that made me feel like I was in a maze with no exit.

Surely it will get better.

No I'm not colorblind
I know the world is black and white
I try to keep an open mind
But I just can't sleep on this tonight

Stop this train
I want to get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

Don't know how else to say it
I don't want to see my parents go
One generation's length away
From fighting life out on my own

Stop this train
I want to get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

So scared of getting older
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game
To find a way to say that life has just begun

Had a talk with my old man
Said "help me understand"
He said "turn sixty-eight"
"You'll renegotiate"

"Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
And don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train"

Once in a while, when it's good
It'll feel like it should
And they're all still around
And you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing
Till you cry when you're driving away in the dark
Singing
Stop this train
I want to get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
Cause now I see I'll never stop this train

"Stop This Train," John Mayer

Of cell phones and ice cream cones

I have had considerable technological trouble with my cell phone over the past several days. First the screen wouldn't work. They sent me a new one, but I couldn't get the cover off of my old phone to put onto the "new" one. This new phone, in less than twenty-four hours, has screwed up twice by shrinking the volume in the earpiece two half a notch above audible. Something tells me that this "possibly reconditioned" phone will be going back to the folks at Cingular.

I do. I appreciate technology, but the thing is that when we rely on it and it then fails us, we suffer unnecessary stress.

Anyway, on my way back from the Cingular store -- whose associates really could not care less -- I decided I needed a butterscotch-dipped cone from Dairy Queen. While I was waiting for my butterscotchy goodness, I noticed what I have been looking out for for weeks. The sign. The sign that says that DQ hibernates for winter, starting October 31. The sign that strikes fear in the hearts of many. The sign that incites panic throughout the land -- of Murray, anyhow.

They handed me my cone -- and I have to say that the butterscotch shell is way better here than in Henderson -- and I took it to my car where I rolled down the windows and played "This Time of Year." As I sat there, I really didn't know how to feel. Glad that it's getting cooler and that the leaves are changing colors? Sad because I was alone? Nostalgic about the past -- sad that it's gone or happy that it happened? I didn't know how to feel, but I was feeling something.

I did learn something, though. Apparently, butterscotch-dipped cones are the favorite among many. I sat there for just about ten minutes during a relatively slow part of the day, and I saw about three other people with them.

One of them happened to be middle-aged man in a business suit who seemed to be spending "quality" time with his wife and two kids. He never got off of the phone for the duration of the visit. I say visit because he was standing next to his big truck while his over-made-up wife -- who was abstaining from DQ's cool treats, certainly to maintain her figure -- tended to her SUV with Soccer Mom stickers on the back. For a while, they all four stood together in the parking lot, but no one seemed to notice any of the others. The kids, of course, were enamored of their (chocolate-dipped) ice cream cones. The man held his idly while conducting some supposedly imporant business. The woman/mother/wife pranced around a bit in her high-heeled boots and repeatedly smoothed her blouse to ensure that she looked just so.

They continued this way until I finished my own ice cream, so I naturally, pulled my car into gear and left. By that time, I was glad to leave. I knew for sure, then, what it was that I was feeling. It was a bit of sadness. Not for me, though. Suddenly, I felt less alone that any of them standing there. But I also felt happy that my family doesn't have to schedule slots for superficial quality time. We are aware of one another. And I also felt a responsibility. One that reminds me that, if and when I have my own family, I want to have one that is connected, that isn't just a loosely associated group of people who are more interested in business or in themselves than each other.

Twice as much ain't twice as good

Back when I was a groupie -- we'll pretend I'm not now -- I used to write what I called the "obligatory concert post" (see 1, 2, and 3) after a John Mayer concert. Maybe this is it. Maybe not.

Well. I guess it is.

In a way, this was the least exciting concert yet. coughcoughmoreconcertstocomecoughcough That is not to say anything negative at all about the experience. Part of it is that I hadn't had the chance to psych myself up for it. I was more concerned with safely making the 400-mile trip to Muncie, IN. With that finally behind me, it was less than twenty-four hours until show time, and it still hadn't sunk in.

The other factor contributing to this lessened sense of excitement, I think, is a sheer sense of maturity. Holly and I have individually done a heck of a lot of maturing over the past two years since we dropped off the tour circuit. Of course, John Mayer had dropped off the tour circuit, too, to do himself some maturing, which is so incredibly evident -- through his musical finesse and his lyrical explorations -- in the new album that went on-sale today. Like he says in the improvisational introduction to "Something's Missing" on the John Mayer Trio album, "It's only music now." If you need concrete evidence, he's played fourteen shows thus far on the tour and not once has "Your Body is a Wonderland" appeared on a setlist.

I think he's trying to say something. And I like what he's saying, too.

Anyway, the show was beautiful. And I'm not going to pretend that I didn't scream like a twelve year old -- or a trashy forty-year-old woman with rose tattoos, alternatively -- every time he went into jam-mode or announced a set change. But this was the first time I wasn't holding a camera in front of my face throughout the whole show. (Though I would have if I could have. And Holly did the picture-taking this time, anyway.) I just held onto my twelve-dollar beer with one hand and tapped the beat out on my chest with the other as I sang along.

He didn't play one of my favorite songs, though, one he has played on every show of the tour except ours -- "Gravity." (It just made a very poignant appearance on the wonderful show House, by the way.) When that track started playing this afternoon after I bought the record, even though I've heard it a hundred times, I had cold chills. It's that powerful, and I was quite disappointed when he neglected to play it. However, he did dazzle us -- and redeem himself -- in the encore with surprise performances of the throwback tunes "Victoria" and "Love Soon," albeit a fragmented jumble of forgotten lyrics.

There are two types of love. The one that fades in the event of prolonged absence, and upon rekindling, there is no hope because the flame has gone for good. Then there's the one that endures separation, and when one returns to the ashes, the flames jump up and dance just as wildly and even a little bit more brightly, as if no time had passed at all.

Call me crazy for likening the last one to music. That's okay.

So, Rand...

I actually just made myself laugh out loud. I felt like a crazy, old cat lady -- minus the cats -- alone in my little apartment laughing at myself.

See, I've been listening to both the Jimi Hendrix original "Bold as Love" and the new John Mayer cover of it -- you know, for analytical purposes. Well, I was sitting here at my computer, wasting time by looking at Seattle Weekly online, and singing the song. (It wasn't long before I realized that I could have been listening to the real musicians sing the actual songs via iTunes.) The end of the chorus goes, "Yeah, they're all bold as love / Just ask the axis." Now, honestly, I wasn't even aware I was singing. You see, that's what happens when you're the cat lady. You start performing socially unacceptable behaviors without any cognition of it. But a little something jolted me out of my neurosis: I sang the lyrics like this, with every ounce of sincerity that I have, "Yeah, they're all bold as love / Just ask the atlas."

Okay, I realize that it's not that funny. After all, I think the atlas is more capable of answering any kind of question than the axis. It's just, well, that my subconscious self wholeheartedly believed that those were the lyrics. I guess you had to be there, but of course you weren't or I wouldn't have been singing to begin with. I hope.

Continuum

Thank God.

I got to listen to a preview of John Mayer's new record tonight on Star 98.7. All I can say is that it is convincing. Believable. Know what I mean? It doesn't seem like he's trying to be anything. I know he's said that he wouldn't release it until it felt perfect, and I think he did a good job. No song, from what I can tell from one listen, seems like it was thrown in for the sake of having another song. I'm not sure if this makes sense, but this record feels 3-D. Each song does. It makes everything that came before it feel a little on the thin side.

But anyway, you can ignore all this because love at first sight isn't reliable. We'll see, though.

And P. S. This article is a good example of why I love John Mayer. He uses the word "opine" for goodness' sake. What more might one ask for?

This ain't no time for that ball and chain.

Ray LaMontagne's 2004 Trouble is the one of the best album's I have come across in a long time. Yes, my interest was piqued when Taylor Hicks sang the title track on American Idol, but the countless number of Soul Patrollers who recommend this CD know what they are talking about.

While I really enjoyed Taylor's version of "Trouble," that rendition was no indication of what this record would be like. I was actually a bit shocked when I listened to the thirty-second preview on iTunes and it sounded nothing like what I'd heard on television. But I listened to the other previews, and I liked the sound of this guy's voice. It was unique. He doesn't sound exactly like anyone else, but I would say his voice is unique in the same was that Ben Harper's voice is unique.

I read customer reviews. People were fawning all over the album. When I saw that iTunes listed Iron & Wine as one of Ray's few contemporaries, I knew I was onto something. But I still needed to give him the final test. Lyrics. If I look up the lyrics of an artist I'm considering and the words don't do anything for me, I drop them. I know lyrics by themselves aren't much without the music around them, but you know, even some of the best music has a hard time carrying a crap lyric. So I looked ol' Ray LaMontagne up on Let's Sing It, and I wasn't disappointed. Don't know why, but a line from "Hold You In My Arms" did it for me:

"When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions"

It's a nicely turned line, true, but it's not the only one. There are all these people these days and their socially aware songs, and this artist has his, too. And it is quite thought-provoking. It's called "How Come."

"Love can be a liar / And justice can be a thief / And freedom can be an empty cup / From which everybody want to drink"

Yeah, check out that nice way of not ending a sentence with a preposition -- and then the big ol' subject-verb disagreement. Okay, despite all the grammar incongruencies, he's speaking some interesting truth there.

Also, the song "All the Wild Horses" reminds me so much of the score of Brokeback Mountain, I can't convince myself it didn't make a sneak appearance on the soundtrack.

Anyway, every song on this album is good. Right now, I am sort of partial to "Forever My Friend" and "Hold You in My Arms," but I do not dislike any of the songs. I bought the album Thursday afternoon before I went home. I put the songs on my iPod and played straight through to Calvert City. This is profound, you know. I get impatient with new albums with which I am not familiar, but every song held my attention. I even restarted a couple songs to get another go 'round.

Yesterday afternoon, I tried to take a nap, letting this music to put me to sleep 'cause it's that type. Soft, folky, and a little solemn. But I could not get a wink of sleep until I had heard the whole album. It was too good to sleep through.

Also, thanks to Gray Charles, you can download Ray's version of "Crazy" (think Gnarls, not Patsy) here. Yeah, he might sound like he's gotten a shot of novacaine in the tongue every now and then, but what great singer doesn't slur a bit?

So here's the point. I haven't totally absorbed this album yet, but I have enough faith in it to recommend it to you. Plus, "Ray LaMontagne" is a really fun name to say.

Ain't nothin' like the real thing

Gray Charles has posted a rather long interview with Taylor Hicks. By "rather long," I mean that it was posted in eight segments. So if you do go to try and read it, you'll have to click back a page or so to get to the beginning. It's very good stuff -- a highly recommended read. It was nice to hear a "real" conversation with him. Does it make me a bad person that it was kind of nice seeing that he's not afraid to drop a bomb here and there?

My Soul Patrol t-shirt is supposed to arrive today.

I gotta quit this.

Radio war

I found this survey on someone's Last.fm journal, so I thought I'd give it a spin here. If you don't know about Last.fm, it's a site that hosts taste-tailored radio stations. Honestly, I don't really use it all that much because I end up finding too much music that I like, and I will, in turn, spend too much money on iTunes. But I do use its little tool that tracks what songs you play on your computer, and that's what generates that "10 most recently played" type deal on my side bar. And my profile keeps statistics on artists and songs that I listen to. So on and so forth.

This is, according to the most recent stats, the top ten artists I keep playing on my computer. There are a couple ties, so I am going to combine them. The questions are relative to the numbers.

1. Taylor Hicks
2. John Mayer
3. Iron & Wine
4. Dixie Chicks
5. John Mayer Trio
6. The Shins / Relient K / Better Than Ezra
7. James Taylor / The Beatles
8. Johnny Cash
9. Dwight Yoakam
10. Ben Harper

What was the first song you ever heard by #6?

For the Shins, I'm pretty sure "Caring is Creepy" came first in Garden State, so that one. Relient K? I bought "The Anatomy of the Tongue in Cheek" before I ever heard a song of theirs. "Pressing On" is the first track. And Better Than Ezra? The best guess is "Extra Ordinary."


What is your favorite album of #2?

This is possibly the hardest question ever. Room for Squares has a special place in my heart.


What is your favorite lyric that #4 has sung?

My favorite to sing has been "And it wrung me out / And it strung me out / And it hung years on my face / God help me, am I the only one who's ever felt this way?" from "Am I the Only One." One of the best, though, is actually a Patty Griffin song they did called "Let Him Fly": "There's no mercy in a live wire / No rest at all in freedom / Of the choices we are given / It's not choice at all / The proof is in the fire / You touch before it moves away / But you must always know how long to stay / And when to go."


How many times have you seen #5 live?

Technically, never. But if you drop that little "Trio" offa there, I've seen him three -- going on four -- times.


What is your favorite song by #7?

James Taylor? "Steamroller." The Beatles? I've been on a "Hey Jude" kick, but "Eight Days a Week" was my first love.


What is a good memory involving #10?

Every time that Dad is in my car and "Suzie Blue" comes on, he always gets really excited because he loves the horns. It's kind of cute.


Is there a song of #3 that makes you sad?

Iron & Wine has a way of putting one in a somber mood. However, "Passing Afternoon" reminds me of the fleeting nature of time, which is always a little sad.


What is your favorite lyric that #2 has sung?

Oh, dear. I am really supposed to pick one, solitary John Mayer lyric? I'll just go with the one I remembered fondly yesterday from "Perfect Sense": "If it ever gets bad / I mean really bad / I'll move to Nova Scotia and forget the life I had / I'll be up at nine each morning / Down by the shore / Collecting things that fell off boats in storms / Okay, so I might never / But it's nice to know the option's there."


What's your favorite song by #9?

I am glad you asked because I just realized that I do not own my favorite Dwight Yoakam song, "Things Change." (Just bought it.) "Streets of Bakersfield" makes me happy, too.


How did you get into #3?

Well, I heard Sam Beam's version of "Such Great Heights" in Garden State -- great movie, great music. When I ran across the song a while later, I heard it and instantly knew that I recognized it from the movie. I tracked down the Endless Numbered Days album when "Such Great Heights" wasn't enough Iron & Wine to do me.


What was the first song you heard by #1?

Oh, Taylor. I guess this would be from the American Idol audition when he sang Sam Cooke's "A Change is Gonna Come." Love at first bite.


What is your favorite song by #4?

I'm really into "I Hope" from their new album. Good song. It's an anti-war tune, and John Mayer on guitar doesn't hurt a thing.


How many times have you seen #9 live?

I don't think I've ever seen Dwight Yoakam live, but you know, there were a bunch of concerts in there when I was little that I barely remember. Lots and lots and lots of country.


What is a good memory involving #2?

Oh-so many. Just about every memory there for a couple years was scored by a John Mayer song.


Is there a song of #8 that makes you sad?

"Sunday Morning Coming Down," no question. This song is about the most lonesome song in the world.


What is your favorite album of #5?

Well, considering there is only one, I'm going with it. Try!


What is your favorite lyric that #3 has sung?

"A baby sleeps in all our bones / So scared to be alone" from "Passing Afternoon."


What is your favorite song of #1?

This is indeed a difficult decision. I'm going to go with original, non-American Idol tunes. My first favorite was "Hell of a Day." The grooviest song, though, is "In Your Time." Also, he does a mean cover of "Georgia On My Mind."


What is your favorite song of #10?

"Show Me a Little Shame" is on up there.


How many times have you seen #8 live?

That'd be none.


What is your favorite album of #1?

Well, these options are sort of limited, but I'll go with Under the Radar.


What is a good memory involving #9?

Dwight Yoakam reminds me of Justin Downing, back in the B-Unit days. *tear*


What is the first song you heard by #8?

This is nearly an impossible question. I can say that the first Johnny Cash song I ever loved was "Tennessee Flat Top Box," but it was back in the day when CMT was playing the video of his daughter Rosanne singing it.


What is your favorite cover by #2?

I have this bootleg of John Mayer singing Guns N' Roses' "Patience" that I really enjoy, especially when he tries to sound like Axl Rose at the end. Pretty good stuff. Funny, actually.


Okay, well, there's that. Glad I got it out of my system.

A simple phrase hard to put into words

So this might be the first entry not really focused on music in, well, a freaking long time. Maybe, I did have a neat thought as I was driving down 641 yesterday...

I did my last microteaching thing today. It was okay. I really have mixed feelings about being a teacher. There are moments when I feel like I have a certain knack for it. And then there are moments when I am certain I have definitely gotten in over my head. Too bad those moments alternate like a strobe light in my head. Is that called manic depression? Ah, dear.

However, one thing I know that I have a knack for is creating really cool manipulatives to use in the classroom. (What am I? A kindergarten teacher?) Last night, I made some things I am calling "conjugation cubes." Basically, they're a set of three cubes that you can move around and, by so doing, make Spanish sentences. What I like is that they are sort of, um, interchangeable. Right now, they are covered with pronouns, regular -AR verbs stems, and present -AR verbs endings. I realize that none of that probably makes any sense, but here's the point. They could be covered in something totally different. They have Velcro covers that you can take off and replace with different Velcro covers. I have to say that I am pretty dang proud of them. You should ask to see them sometime, and I'll let you have a look -- as long as you promise not the steal the idea. A patent could be in the works...

So I know I am weird and all, but I got a little something for you. I had something like reverse deja vu this weekend. Maybe that's not the way to describe it, but I'll try. For who-knows-how-long, I have had this sort of "flashback" to a place that I've never been. Weird, I know. Well, this weekend, I was finally there. That's all I am going to say. I know that dreams and dream-like states are the hardest thing to talk about. It is so fascinating to the dreamer, but when you try to explain it, it doesn't make a lick of sense. So there.

Well, I have to go give up the rental car now. I suppose I could get all of my stuff out of it first. It's back to the ol' Taurus for me. It drives like a tank. It will definitely feel like that after driving a little tumble bug for a couple weeks.

Hmm. Yes, I think the music-related posts tend to have more substance. Therefore, I'll let you in on my 641 musings.

Music -- all forms of creative expression, really -- is like an imprint of the soul. I had heard some lyric -- could've been "I'm bigger than my body gives me credit for" or "I hope you can feel me in the air" or something else of that nature -- and I began thinking about the separate entities of body and soul. You know, questioning it, considering the magnitude of its implications, what have you. And it ocurred to me that art, namely music, is a way of extracting soul from the body. We can use our mouths to put forth a voice or our hands to write a story, but what is left on paper or in the air isn't our body. It's something intangible. And I have a hard time believing it's just particles in the air bouncing against one another. Maybe it is. You know, I really have no idea. But it's through those airwaves or rearranging molecules or whatever that people are able to connect with one another. Here's what I am saying. Sometimes knowledge -- specifially, really knowing someone else -- seems so inaccessible. Even attempting to comprehend the concept of "soul" boggles my mind. But there is something about creative expression -- be it a painting, a dance, a song, a poem, a nicely turned phrase in a conversation -- makes knowledge a little more accessible. It puts the soul in a language we can understand.

Your plans to make me blue

I went home this past weekend. Well, it was more like I went home on Sunday afternoon and came back here on Tuesday morning. Anyhow, I ran the batteries on all of my music-listening technology by the time Tuesday came around, so I spent the entire ride home flipping through radio stations. I was very hard-pressed to find any music at all, much less any that was decent. Once, I gleaned a line or two of "Do I Make You Proud" (not that it's great music) from underneath some static, but when I tried to go back and find it, it was gone.

Finally, when I was rolling down the hill on 641 into Murray, "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" graced the airwaves. I was singing along -- thanking God for Marvin Gaye -- when I remembered that I bought one of his greatest-hits type CDs waaay back in 1996 (omg, ten years ago) for my thirteenth birthday party. You know, it was one of those birthday parties that sold itself as a "dance" party at the community center. So in an attempt to come up with some "cool" dance music, Mom let me buy the "Macarena" CD, and for some reason, she thought it wise to get some "I Heard It Through the Grapevine," too. Now, for the life of me, I cannot figure out what exactly we were supposed to dance to this, but twirling animated raisins come to mind. Anyhow, I'm thinking Marvin and his tunes didn't go over very well anyway. I'm remembering far too many rounds of the macarena dance and something about that choo choo train song.

But that's beside the point.

This is the point: What ever happened to my Marvin Gaye album? Upon research, I've discovered that it was Every Great Motown Hit of Marvin Gaye. The poor thing is probably floating around in a black hole somewhere with Los Del Rio and a mismatched pair of brightly colored bobby socks. And you know, I remember at the time thinking that fourteen dollars or whatever it cost was too much to pay for just one song that I wanted. (Now, you can buy the thing brand new for less than ten bucks anywhere.) But I did listen to the whole album long after the party -- along with Justin Mooney's copy of the Eagles' Hell Freezes Over that I ended up with -- and I did appreciate it. But oh! how I would appreciate it now.

The chances of me finding my copy of it are the slimmest of slims. I could just break down and buy it now. I could. But there's something about the fact that I already own it somewhere that's holding me back.

Oh, what's goin' on, what's goin' on?

Perhaps the planets aligned.

While doing the rounds, I happened upon this:

According to johnmayer.com, the album Continuum is due out on September 12 -- three long years and three long days after the release of Heavier Things.

Tour dates have also been set. How convenient that the last night of the tour is my birthday. And how convenient that the tickets go on sale tomorrow morning -- technically, today. Atlanta, though, is not exactly convenient. But it's not impossible.

Yes, I am aware that all I talk about any more is music and the people who play it.

To keep up with this tradition, I'll note that I went and saw Justin and Century Century play at Vitello's tonight. I knew all but one song, which kind of makes me proud. I was able to tap my foot knowlingly along as I stood at the door and made people's change for the three-dollar cover. I'm not exactly sure how I got that gig, but as Justin suggested, I should tell you folks that I was a "hard-ass bouncer" for the show. I don't know about hard-ass, but I did kind of have a power trip when two girls without the appropriate amount of cash ("Oh, all I have is debit...") finally realized I wasn't going to let them in and turned away. Oh, yes.

Shake, shake that Polaroid.

Moonlight through the pines

The coroner pronounced the Buick dead yesterday. Hopefully we can all dry our tears, though. There may be life after death. The insurance people calling it a "total loss" doesn't mean she can't be fixed -- just that fixing her will cost more than she's worth. But the family and I are talking it over, and it looks like her mechanic dependability -- and the $800 air compressor we put in less than a week before the wreck -- are worth more than a used car that just might blow up at any minute.

I met with the Fulbright rep on campus today. That went well. We just talked over the possibilities and application and stuff. The application process is a doozy -- that's how dictionary.com told me to spell that -- if there ever was one. Turns out, though, that if I apply this year and don't make it, I can apply again next year for the same program at the same time. Thank you, overlapping 2007-2008 and 2008-2009 school years.

I'm kind of stressed out about all of it, though. Between figuring what to do about my car, the increasingly insane summer class, and Fulbright to think about, I'm getting a little crazy. Just because it's summer. I could excuse this during the school year because it's supposed to be hectic. I just want to relax, really.

To make up for it, I did some impulse shopping. I put my little toe across the line and ordered a Soul Patrol t-shirt from Neighborhoodies. I know, I know. But it's cute. I got it in "asphalt" (err, dark gray) on gray (err, light gray). I should be ashamed, but I'm not.

I had the strangest realization yesterday: I love songs about Georgia. It's true. I must have some subconscious fascination with the state. And I always that it was North Carolina... Huh. It occurred to me when I listen to Taylor's (who would've guessed?) cover of "Georgia On My Mind" for the thirty-fifth time. "Why Georgia" has always been close to number one on my John Mayer list. And then, today, when I was rummaging through some Iron & Wine songs to learn to play on guitar, I remembered that "Sodom, South Georgia" is the song that, every time I hear it, I start making amazing lesson plans in my head -- see, I could be teacher -- about the use of figurative language, specifically similes. Beautiful song. And I ended up learning to play it, by the way.

Papa died smiling / Wide as a ring of a bell / Gone all star white / Small as a wish in a well / And Sodom, South Georgia / Woke like a tree full of bees / Buried in Christmas / Bows and a blanket of weeds -- "Sodom, South Georgia"

Everybody is just a stranger / But that's the danger in going my own way / I guess that's the price I have to pay / Still "everything happens for a reason" is no reason / Not to ask myself, "Am I living it right?" / Why, tell me why, why Georgia, why -- "Why Georgia"

Georgia / Georgia / A song of you / Comes as sweet and clear / As moonlight through the pines / Other arms reach out to me / Other eyes smile tenderly / Still in peaceful dreams I see / The roads lead back to you -- "Georgia On My Mind"

I've been running ever since.

I am beginning to wonder if I have ADHD.

It has come to my attention (deficit?) that I am incredibly fidgety. I cannot cannot cannot sit still. I remember that when I was a kid, my mom was constantly on me about messing with the mini-blind string behind the couch and about kicking things with my feet. I pop the battery cover on the remote control incessantly. Too bad that the remote for my TV now has a screwed-on battery cover. In my education class right now, we have little name plates that we've made for ourselves. If someone ever needed to know my name, they'd never see it because I am flipping and twirling my name plate around the whole time. I am a pen clicker. I cannot help myself.

Being an education person -- God, the regret -- I have to think about these things. And as I have come across some ADHD symptoms, it is like looking in a mirror. All the signs are there. I don't have the patience to proofread. My mind is incredibly scattered. Just look at the babbling incoherence that is my blog.

My whole life -- or just recently, whichever -- I have been trying to channel that confused and pent-up energy toward something. I have wondered why I have about nineteen hands-on projects going on all the time. I have a new one, by the way. I have a dulcimer now. Play me some mountain music, yeah.

Interestingly, according to those personality/learning styles assessments, I hardly ever come out as a kinesthetically-inclined person. I am beginning to think they are all wrong.

Now, I think I am going to go run a lap or something, thank you.

Will it go 'round in circles?

This happens about once a year. I rediscover the John Mayer that I love. I know. I have a tendency to be gross about my fandom. But I don't care. This time, it was Taylor Hicks' fault. Well, there were several things -- some involving Taylor, some not.

One of them happened when I was in the shower, and I had my iPod/FM transmitter/jalopy stereo system going. And Taylor's live version of "Tighten Up" came up on shuffle. He started off the jam telling about how the song was from 1973 -- think that's wrong, by the way -- and he was singing it. You know, the year. And he starts doing this "Way back, way back, way back, way back in nineteen seeeeventy-three" scat type thing. And that's when I had the epiphany. This style reminded me so much of some of John Mayer's stuff. I went back and listened to "1983" and some other live tunes. The pieces started falling together.

I had read -- somewhere in what I like to call my "research" -- that Taylor (yes, first name basis...you want a piece of me?) wants to tour with John Mayer. I kind of laughed at that, but now, I'm catching the groove of this. It all makes sense.

I've been doing this thing which John Mayer once called a musical family tree, or something. Basically, it's just listening to the music that influences the music you like, and you keep moving around, listening to the influencing artists. It wasn't long before I got to the Taylor Hicks/Ray Charles/John Mayer connection. There are some other overlapping things, yes.

Turns out, though, that it's that "soul thing" (I wrote a sufficiently cheesy journal on my Last.fm page about it) that ties them up together so nicely in the music-loving part of my brain. It's when each performance of a song is an individual work of art. The music and lyrics as they appear on a page might very well be art, but when they are given breath, that's when they come alive -- obviously. I've watched somewhere around six or seven versions of Taylor singing that semi-lifeless "Do I Make You Proud" song, and each time, he does what he can to give it breath. He injects a little improv, and you know, soul. And it works. Not every singer can do that. It really does take an artist.

That's why, back in the day, I could listen to three different versions of "Your Body is a Wonderland" or "Daughters" or "Something's Missing" or "Covered in Rain" and it felt fresh and soulful each time. And that's the point, apparently, because as it turns out, John Mayer has a MySpace and uses the blog feature. And on there, he mentions something about the Trio song "Vultures" going on his new album (next month, maybe!) and being a different creature than the one we know because it has grown. A song is not just a song. The performance -- the living soul in it -- has everything in the world to do with it. It's not art until there is actually an artist behind it.

That's the problem. There is so much music right now -- pop crap -- that is just manufactured. For instance, I really like Maroon 5, but I remember at the Nashville show, I was so impressed with how much the song sounded exactly like the record. And that didn't sit well with me. Now I know why.

I mentioned this on the Last.fm thing. I like the imperfect music. It's like that thing Holly talks about -- the "needing to be airbrushed" factor. I like the music that isn't flawless. It's when the sour notes in Taylor's version of Elton John's "Levon" and John's "Man on the Side" become the highlight of the song that you've found something. It's a little bit of Soul peeking out. Paula Abdul might be hopped up on OxyContin, but I think she was actually right when she told Randy that what might seem pitchy to him is really the essence of Taylor. When the song's grabbed ahold of you and those kind of notes bust out, it's real. And that's what I like. Real.

I remember the first time I encountered it. About eight minutes into John's nine-minute version of "Covered in Rain" on Any Given Thursday, he comes up for air after about four minutes of tripped-out jamming. After a little bridgey thing, he starts singing the chorus again, and it is this huge burst of emotion. And the song was no longer just a song. It's the same thing that happened when Holly and I first heard the acoustic version of "Disease." It will make you cry, and you almost cannot explain why. But it's because it's not fake music. Turns out that Rob Thomas has a soul.

So, yes. That's what I love. Real music, warts and all.

As a closer here, I have a few John Mayer things that I didn't know until just recently:

Again, the Continuum album is supposed to come out some time soon.

He's on the Cars soundtrack. The folks at iTunes won't let you just download his version of "Route 66" though. It's an "album only" track.

I bought the new Dixie Chicks album about a week ago, and today, I found out that he's featured as the lead guitarist on the track "I Hope." I don't know how I missed that.

And like I said, he's blogging on MySpace. And has been for a long time. Check it out. The man has the best vocabulary I've ever seen in my life.

All centered now.

I finally figured out how to center my blog. It's a glorious day.

The iPod recovered. And I hooked myself up with an FM transmitter -- as Holly suggested -- and now I can enjoy my music in the car. I very excited about this. Now, I could stand to get a charger to go with it. It really never ends.

Well, I found a new best friend: Last.fm. I'm finding and enjoying all kinds of new music. The problem is that my iTunes bill is racking up. Not cool.

Tomorrow's the first official 5-week summer class Wednesday off. This makes me happy. It's not as if I am dedicated every fiber of my being to this class anyway, but it will be nice to have it out of my hair.

I have a few goals for these five weeks, and I'm not meeting them very quickly. I need to find a job for next semester. I need to work on Fulbright things, and by that, I mean that I need to find out about the program in general. And I need to be working on Spanish. I have hardly practiced since school's been out, aside from singing some along with some CDs I got in Spain. How am I going to be of any use in Mexico come August?

I'm going to watch Kathryn tomorrow while Sissy goes to the dentist. So. Yeah.

I've discovered -- long ago, actually -- that I have a very difficult time finding a way to end a blog entry. Perhaps I should think up something creative to do instead of just concluding with, "Well, I guess that's all I have to say about that."

Thanks, Forrest.

New blue

In an iTunes downloading frenzy, I snagged the John Mayer Trio's single for "Who Did You Think I Was" with the accompanying track "Come When I Call." These and two collaboration tracks I burned at the end of my copy of Better Than Ezra's new CD. This morning, BTE ran out and John started up. I had a few minutes to sit in my car and wait for the library to open, and I had some thoughts.

This isn't the John Mayer that millions of screaming teenagers, including myself, fell in love with. Or is it? In "Who Did You Think I Was," he seems to be anticipating some flack about his full-blown move to Blues. I can just imagine whimpering little girls saying, "But, but this isn't you! Where are my poppy beats? Where is your acoustic guitar? Why do you look like trash?" And to this, on top of an up-tempo electric jam, he answers with a question:

Am I the one who plays the quiet songs?
Is he the one who turns the ladies on?
Will I keep shining til my light is gone?
Who did you think I was?

Call it a sleezy bait and switch operation if you will, but I think he's doing us all a favor. He's like a rock evangelist, and he's reaching out to us poor saps for whom he might be the only Jesus SRV we'll ever see. Yeah, he drew us all in with his bubble gum pop and that dimple in his chin. He rose above the rest with his smooth acoustic skills and witty and oh-so thoughtful lyrics. And now he's giving us nothing less than the legendary mix of Rock and Blues. But he warned us all along, us being the star-struck crowd who read every article and watched every interview: His heroes are Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan.

He made it easy on us, though. It started with live shows where he'd be, one minute, sitting in a fold-up chair crooning and telling us about how our bodies are wonderlands and, the next minute, curled over an electric guitar jamming out tunes that resulted in things like the over-ten-minutes-long "Covered in Rain" on his double live album Any Given Thursday. And then Heavier Things gave us more electric than acoustic and a collection of songs that were soft in the studio and rock hard on stage. He was taking his pop music crowd and teaching them a lesson. He's been saying, "You liked that? Okay, now listen to some real music."

Who did we think he was?

He's sure not the guy who plays the quiet songs. These days, I'm hearing things that sound more like "Pride and Joy" than the songs from the golden days of "No Such Thing." He's even traded in some of his deep and brooding lyrics for some brief, yet poignant, lines for repeating.

And is he the guy who turns the ladies on? He might be, but he's looking more and more like JMG every day. And his voice, if you listen to "Need No Doctor" that he recorded with John Scoffield, isn't the same boyish sugar-fix we used to depend on. It's got the no-holds-barred brashness of experience. It made me stop and think, "Is this even John Mayer singing?" But all it took was a few pitchy squeaks, and I knew it was him.

But there are still slow songs to be found, and that soothing voice hasn't vanished. "Dreams to Remember," a track he laid down with Buddy Guy, is a slow one and his voice has the same quiet pleading to it as "Come Back to Bed." But it's a long way from Wonderland.

His side project the John Mayer Trio -- which I think is less a side project than an attempt to do what he's been wanting to do all along -- is putting out their live album Try! on November 22. I, of course, will be all over it.

Hands clean

"Ironic" is the first song I remember considering a favorite. I bought the cassette single and memorized the lyrics. Jagged Little Pill was the first CD I owned. After I got the CD, "Perfect" became my favorite on the album -- because I understood it, I guess. I didn't really identify with it, but in that awkward junior high stage, I think I tried to identify with it. You know, the angst and all. And I remember sitting in someone's van at Ashley Wallace's house listening to "You Oughta Know" and looking around to see if anyone was going to drop the eff bomb with Alanis. And I remember being at Ashley Holt's dance party in her garage in Providence, standing in a circle and singing "Hand in My Pocket" and being so proud to be "brave but chicken shit." We were. I liked "Not the Doctor," though I didn't get it. I secretly liked "Forgiven." Secretly, because I thought it was a sacrilege. Tried as I may have, I didn't understand Alanis, but I accepted her.

But some years later, I had an epiphany of sorts. Alanis was satan, embodied in a little black CD. These days, I say I lost my original copy of Jagged Little Pill. The truth is that it lies, in shattered bits, at the bottom of our pond. God, I don't know why I did that. "No fun with no guilt feelings." And I still hadn't made it to listening to "Wake Up" or "Your House." I still didn't understand Alanis.

I'm really thankful for the new Jagged Little Pill Acoustic. I got to give Alanis a second chance. I could skip "Ironic" without listening to it, but when I do, it's nostalgic. "You Oughta Know" and "Hand in My Pocket" are finally more than their "cuss" words. And now, not only do I understand "Forgiven," I know it isn't sacrilegious.

I really just want to apologize to the black shards of my first CD. I shouldn't have done that. But you live, you learn.

No one is allowed to be so proud

I'm downloading Better Than Ezra's Before the Robots on iTunes. It's too easy to spend too much money downloading music. I know, I know. If only I could do away with that conscience that nags me about file sharing. Oh, well. But I listened to the 30-second previews of all the songs, and I couldn't help myself. I didn't know any of them (except for that mysterious re-release of "A Lifetime"), but I felt like I did. Could be that all their music sounds the same. I don't know. Or care. It made me excited to think that there is a whole new group of songs that I could love as much as my Three-Wide compilation. I love you, BTE. You take me back to golden times.

Went to ADPi's Battle of the Bands tonight to support my dear friends and their philanthropy. And the DANCE-tigators!!! Yay, for some good bands!

I wonder...have I anything else to say? Nope. I think that's it.

Ah! P.S.! The John Mayer Trio has released a two-song single. Happy early birthday to me, happy early birthday to me... I'm having an iTunes party.