Category Archives: music

Midnight listening


Almost August nights – oh how I love you, when the grip of summer is suddenly loosened, when you rather your windows down, then the ac turned on high.  Oh, almost August nights when there are at least seven meteor showers about to peak, giving us wish upon wish.  Summer nights and music mesh, windows down and radio higher than my ears should want. Bless the highway, and its mirage of possibility.

I don’t like time, time is making me old
but I’m doing alright cause I will still be young tomorrow
and I can’t stand working all day work is wearing out my soul
I think I’ll go out tonight and I will call in sick tomorrow. . .

. . . ‘Cause I don’t like time, time’s ticking away my life
So I live the way I want to live and I will live this way till I am dead
When life gets hard you’ve got remember who you are
and forget about what people think
just be who you want to be
Don’t you want to see how good life can be?
-The Mowgli’s




Shake it Out.


Can we just talk for a half a minute. . how this song . . on a summer night, with all the windows down – is just perfect.  I mean on the highway – driving fast – with the sound of your voice travelling as quickly as the lines on the pavement — how it is just – well again, perfect.
And I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart
‘Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn.

I said.

Gawd. Damn.

Causing Trouble


So- I hate John Mayer
And he cries after sex.
Those two things are mutually exclusive.
A friend from college was rumored to have hooked
up with him back during his college days in Boston.
I asked – inebriated at a bachelorette party in nyc-
So, John Mayer really?
and she nodded back and I pushed,
wait, is your body a wonderland?
In return she grinned back, no.
–No we really only hooked up a couple of times.
Just a couple?
–Yah, see he cries after sex. Read the rest of this entry

Things to do after a long day of work. . . .


. . .  Find this. . .Laugh. How they grow.  So quickly. . .

Then listen to more music, because, well it’s dark, and the kids aren’t here, and it’s quiet. And well,  I gotta say December playlist is pretty chill.  My favorites are either The Christmas Song by the Raveonettes or Valley Winter Song by Fountains of Wayne – because, well it’s about my Valley.

Huh. My Valley. Not the Valley or The Happy Valley . . . My Valley.  Only took, nine years, four months, and four days to say that.

Best of the Week


It wasn’t the almost-midnight, almost-falling-over laughing with new co-workers on a school night, and it wasn’t the compliments from parents at open house – It wasn’t the students being silly about my new haircut either, or my mock trial team members coming to my room every day in anticipation of our first meeting for new teammates.

It didn’t last long. It took just three words, a half a smile, and a glance to the back of the car.  I’ve mentioned this before here — that one of the things that I measure my parenting by –is the love my sons have of  music.  So when a new favorite song of mine came on the radio, a song the energetic one asks me to turn-up every time it’s on – I turned it up before he had a chance to say anything. And in my quick glance back to see what new dance moves he was working out, he pointed at me with grin that belonged only on the Cheshire Cat, and said, “you read my mind”.

Oh sweet five-year-old, I’m not sure how much longer I will be able to do such things, to read your mind, to know what you need.  But right now, right now, that I can just know your favorite song, that is enough to make me bathe in the light of the moment for the rest of the week.

House Lights


I shouldn’t be surprised,  by what house lights reveal.
By now the shows I’ve been to number near three hundred,
and probably that is understating it.

The venues have varried
from dive bar to stadium
from music hall to theater,
once there was a ski lodge,
oh and an old stone church.

But no matter the place, when the lights start to rise,
reality begins to settle in,and last night,
was no different, so really,
I’m not sure why I was surprised.

First of all, the floor is always horrifying,
it is sticky, and littered, there are shards of glass,
some girl dressed in flip- flops, with an anesthetic level of booze
has inevitably left with a terrible souvenir.

And the couple to the right, who looked so perfect for each other,
he is too tall, and she is just drunk, and somebody is obviously lying.
And the good dancer to you left, turns out he just got his hands on something
brought in from somebody’s  older brother out on the west coast.

And the  healing I was feeling in my heart,
the   cure I thought was finding with each drop
of the bass drum, with each new chord on the keys,
turns out that too was just brought in for the night,
delivered not by doses, but by nostalgia.

And we can be honest, because given the opportunity,
I will continue to be disoriented by the harsh glow of the post midnight lighting.
I will arrive into the club in the dark, and dance my way through
the funk, and the ballads, keep my feet moving through the refrains and
revel in what can be hidden by a six piece and a lighting board.

And in the morning, under the real-time burn of the sun,
I will flip through the digital captures of the night before,
and remember what it was like to be fooled by the shadows.

The ones that burn too bright


Writing and reading and listening — and trying to decipher meaning  in a half of day of quiet in my house.  Came upon this piece. . . again. . . that I had almost forgot about – But as another pop star burns out her candle- I was thinking about how our limitless consumption of media right now (she says whilst in the midst of limitless consumption) is constanly changing our discourse on ourselves, and our communities — and the world around us.  The revolution will be televised, and then YouTubed, and reblogged, and chopped up in to tiny bits of edible sound bites.  And like JaySmooth, I wonder what this means for the tiny people we teach, and parent, and nurture – what this fully televised world will hold for them.

Valentine’s Love


Cross posting a little bit of writing I just did for the school’s paper.  I have never written something for the paper, though I’ve been the adviser for seven years now.  But I have this kiddo, with great taste in music, and a great sense of humor, and thought we should write something together.

Valentine’s Day Playlist – Music for whatever mood you’re in. 

Do you fall in love . . .


. . . with songs?  Like so deeply, deliciously in love, that you don’t even know how you lived before you heard that song.  I’ve been having a new affair with music after having had pushed it to the side for far too long.  Adele, Frank Turner, and Mumford and Sons are on heavy rotation in the mini van.  So much so, that Kai and Keegan both belt out the “aye, ayes,” at the beginning of Adele’s My Same. Read the rest of this entry