When you feel as chilled to the bone as I do right now, the only thing for it is to listen to some Caetano Veloso. Specifically, I'm listening to Livro and my bones have warmed considerably. It's a wonderful album; you should listen to it always.
But it's on to The Beastie Boys and Check Your Head. MCA's ghost looms; the other day, I found an issue of Rolling Stone with him on the cover; he had just passed away; it was his eulogy And then I started thinking about death as I sometimes do (Do you think about death? How often, I wonder. Hmm...). But my purpose for listening to the Beasties has more to do with raising my energy than anything else. I'm tired - it was a long, active, day - and I'm pretty sure I just want to watch some Beverly Hillbillies or read or sleep. I question why I endeavored to poke away here, but here I am. I guess this is just my way of telling you I love you.
Speaking of love, I was drafting a cover letter at work today and the template I used was a letter I had typed last year. As I modified it, I noticed something that produced a chuckle, a tee-hee if you will, from someplace deep within my very soul. This is what I read above my signature: "Very truly yours". I'm positive it wasn't my idea to include that sentiment; I'm rarely that devoted to complete strangers; most likely it was a relic from an earlier letter someone else had typed up. Perhaps this person felt strongly about the recipient of the letter; we'll never know. And so I laughed and laughed, the child within me as free as something else that is free, like say another child, only freer. You find it funny, don't you? I mean, how could you not find it profoundly amusing? Very truly yours? Why would I say such a thing to someone I don't even know? Hilarious!
The new car is within reach. A few (hopefully) trifling matters to contend with and then I'm in the clear. Stay tuned!
I consider myself someone who's comfortable being alone, but man have I been feeling the cold lack of affection in my life. I'm speaking exclusively about the kind of affection couples engage in. Who doesn't want the occasional hug or rusty trombone? Oh, why did I have to take it there? Is it possible I'm making light of something in order to alleviate my embarrassment over feeling as needy as a babe alone in its crib? Of course it's possible. Anyway, I need affection like anyone else and lately I've been feeling the need more than usual. There is no shame in that. Ok, perhaps there is some, but it is not a shameful amount. Maybe I should finally accept all those date requests I've been putting off.
Off to something else. Had biryani for dinner and now I'm hungry again. I wish I had a bag of the freeze-dried mangoes that Trader Joe's sells. I ache for it like a junkie.
I'll leave you with a clip of Jeff Green posterizing Al Jefferson. Watch it twice before bed and once in the morning. If you do, at some point tomorrow you will discover that you're no longer a cravenly wretch.
Pleasant dreams, Jacobite scum.
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