It’s a luxury to revisit past pain, as that usually indicates there’s nothing present going on to fill such a void. In this case, I’ll leave the artistic expression to Taylor Swift‘s re-release of ‘All Too Well’ (Taylor’s Version) which comes with a raw video that some have speculated is about her relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal. It brought about a rash of online heartbreak memories and break-up ghosts. Who needs that shit when so much else is going on? Who knows. And who cares. We all have those memories. They still cut, they still sting, and when they claim you like the ghosts they are, they leave the same chill they did before.
In my case, it was a January or February moment in Chicago, that was just as cold and brutal as everyone thinks Chicago is. The city was never quite that way – but the circumstances were. On this Saturday morning he accompanied me downtown, but left when we were only halfway there, and I didn’t have the courage or strength to fight it. I got off in some neighborhood I didn’t know, stumbling to some pretty storefront that looked like it might have a little piece of beauty that might prove a balm on my heart. It was all I could do, it was my way of survival: to find a sliver of beauty that made it worth living in the world. To keep me alive… just until the next day, the next hour, the next minute. How would I go on beyond that? Why would I want to?
A potted group of paperwhite Narcissus was in bloom there, sending up their star-shaped blooms and their pungent perfume. They were hidden in plain sight, in a green-house-like room fronted by wavy panes of ancient glass, where it felt like I could be hidden in plain sight too. My grief rendered me suddenly invisible, a doubly-debilitating and cruel trick that preyed upon the very insecurities which had me constantly doubting whether I even existed.
A recording from 2018 already feels like it’s from another lifetime ago, and a world far, far away, but the music from Karel Barnoski’s ‘Tiny Telephone Sessions’ has aged like a fine wine, its themes and musical motifs growing more resonant as we try to hold on to the joy we once found in art and music and the creation of something that shows us how we live when we are in the throes of it all. Originally released on vinyl, Barnoski is re-releasing it digitally at long last – check it out here on Spotify.
Rushing along like a stream in the aftermath of winter, ‘I’m on My Way’ cascades down while beginning its aural ascent on the opening track. The idea of water accompanies my thoughts as I listen to this music – perhaps inspired by the photos I’ve seen of Karel’s fishing trips, or his recent painting endeavors which shimmer with watery movement.
This was where he was before the world shut down, and this collection of songs is a reflection of a place that may no longer exist, in the same way a section of a stream is different from moment to moment. (It also illuminates the transfixing beginnings of themes he would go on to further explore in 2020’s resplendent ‘Welcome Home’.)
While the moving ‘Dad’s Song’ evokes contemplative musing in the still and slow moments between its rolling arpeggios, ‘Kathryn’s Waltz’ is full of pretty hopes and hopeful wishes, a whimsical dance fit for dandelion seeds on the wind. That wind shifts a bit, and there is a dark and mysterious undercurrent running through ‘In Between’, but every time it seems ripe for a bit of brooding, the melody turns and the pace changes. This ebb and flow pushes and pulls within the space of sound, contracting and releasing as if acting as some beating heart debating whether to survive by consistency or adventure ~ the ultimate crux of the in-between.
Another gem in three-quarter time, ‘Lola’s Waltz’ makes its turns in fanciful form tinged with the slightest touches of melancholy, approaching the precious but veering just shy of the cloying with a masterful restraint from indulgence. Further confounding this sweetness, the exhilarating ‘Polish Dance’ is a fun romp that starts off at a gallop and ends in an absolute mad dash. ‘Spanish March’ begins where one might expect, then quickly takes a detour – a river that bends and throws curve after curve until you’re certain it’s doubled in on itself and there’s only space for splashing and silliness.
With ‘Move That’ the album shifts from its classical leanings on the grand piano into something more casual and loose, finding Barnoski swinging along on an upright piano, electric keyboard and organ. The split makes more sense when you realize that ‘Tiny Telephone Sessions’ was first released as a two-sided vinyl record. This second side, nostalgic both for its initial vinyl inception and its ragtime-roots, shouldn’t work as well as it does, but Barnoski’s skill at bringing a bit of grace and elegance to the songs here, coupled with his skills as pianist, ultimately creates a work of cohesive unity.
The sugary-funk of the bluesy ‘Banana Split’ is pure fun – the first notion of release and abandon, while ‘Coming For You’ and ‘Barrelhouse Rag’ descend into even bluer territory, the sound river growing a little more rollicking ~ the stuff of rafts and raw energy, enervating and driving, the way water doesn’t want to stop in its run. ‘In the Trunk’ hops along gently, reminding of another stream, another fishing expedition, another interesting journey back through a childhood memory.
Finishing things off with ‘Lowell Street’, we seem to tilt out of the water and right into the nightlife of some magical city that’s as gritty and grimy as it is fascinating and filled with the flotsam and jetsam of inspiration. Seeds that carry on the wind again. Music that moves along like water, in all its varying forms and moody incarnations. In an all-too-brisk half hour the world of ‘Tiny Telephone Sessions’ has come and gone – a world we all once inhabited, brought to life again in the way only an old favorite tune can wheedle out faded memories as it’s played on a piano in a darkened room that now feels empty, and all the more beautiful for it.
When this song first stormed the world charts, I was only about ten years old. It was the zenith of the 80’s, and it was the period in which I began to be aware of the pop music scene. Songs from the mid-to-late-80’s would form the soundtrack to the formative portion of my life, and to this day they kindle some of the most powerful emotions and memories.
For this one, I don’t have any specific recollections – I just remember it breezing along on the radio, redolent of those glorious 80’s, and given a shine by my coming-of-age in the ensuing years. In the same way that this recent redoing of a pop song like ‘Downtown’ rendered it in more melancholy and emotional form, this version of A-Ha’s ‘Take On Me’ was redone by the original band, and it evokes more feelings than the first time around.
So needless to say I’m odds and ends But I’ll be Stumbling away Slowly learning that life is okay Say after me It’s no better to be safe than sorry…
On a trying Monday night, because all Mondays are trying in some fashion, but the first Monday in November feel especially unbearable, I sit down in the attic and type away trying to find a way to exorcize the demons of the day. My hair is unstyled after a shower, and my black t-shirt has a streak of white paint from when I painted the room in which I now sit. I’m all a bit of a mess, odds and ends, stumbling and bumbling and no more safe than sorry. The words ring differently without a bright dance beat to them, the melody more plaintive than I ever remember the world being when I was ten years old. Maybe this is what being an adult feels like, and why so many refuse to give in to it.
Oh, things that you say Yeah, is it a life or Just to play My worries away You’re all the things I’ve got to remember You’re shying away I’ll be coming for you anyway
The things we each must do to take on the world.
And the things that we must do to let someone else take us on.
Taking me on will never be an easy task. For better or worse, I’ve designed it that way, and it will always be harder to love me because I’ve spent too many years protecting myself to let that go now. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to keep asking and trying and hoping to be loved, and doing my best to deserve it.
I don’t know what I’m to say I’ll say it anyway Today is another day to find you Shying away I’ll be coming for your love, okay?
WHEN YOU’VE GOT WORRIES, ALL THE NOISE AND THE HURRY
SEEMS TO HELP I KNOW
DOWNTOWN
Most kids think of their parents simultaneously as the most glamourous people on earth as well as the oldest people on earth. I was no different, so when my Mom told us stories of how she used to go shopping in downtown Albany, it felt like the fanciest place in the world. She also had a record (a real vinyl record) of Petula Clark singing her signature hit ‘Downtown’ that I would play on our first record player and imagine my mother walking along Pearl Street seeking out a dress or hat or a piece of jewelry. She grew up in the time of Jackie Kennedy and the elegant suit dresses of Chanel paired with a pill box hat. It was a classic style that endures to this day.
JUST LISTEN TO THE MUSIC OF THE TRAFFIC IN THE CITY
LINGER ON THE SIDEWALK WHERE THE NEON SIGNS ARE PRETTY
HOW CAN YOU LOSE?
Years later, she would also show us the brighter lights of New York City and Boston, and I would eventually get lost in both on occasion, but somehow they always paled in comparison to the way little old downtown Albany sounded when it was the most exciting retail perch near Hoosick Falls or Amsterdam, NY. While its days of bustling feel lost forever, there are still glimmers of it when all the state workers are out and about for lunch, or when a new restaurant or store opens up. They are too often fleeting, but some linger…
THE LIGHT’S SO MUCH BRIGHTER THERE
YOU CAN FORGET ALL YOUR TROUBLES,
FORGET ALL YOUR CARES
SO GO DOWNTOWN
THINGS WILL BE GREAT WHEN YOU’RE DOWNTOWN
NO FINER PLACE FOR SURE
DOWNTOWN
EVERYTHING’S WAITING FOR YOU
DOWNTOWN… DOWNTOWN
This revamped version of ‘Downtown’ as sung by Anya Taylor-Joy in ‘Last Night in Soho’ is the remake I didn’t realize we needed, bringing a melancholic undertow to the notion of Downtown as a frame of mind, a time and place lost to history but rekindled in a new generation, and a new way of making one’s way through the world. The original optimism of the song is tempered by the recent decades that have certainly worked to dampen such enthusiasm. Yet hope remains on the wistful and breezy notion of finding spaces and places of escape.
DON’T HANG AROUND AND LET YOUR PROBLEMS SURROUND YOU
THERE ARE MOVIE SHOWS DOWNTOWN
MAYBE YOU KNOW SOME LITTLE PLACES TO GO TO
WHERE THEY NEVER CLOSE DOWNTOWN
JUST LISTEN TO THE RHYTHM OF A GENTLE BOSSA NOVA
YOU’LL BE DANCING WITH THEM TOO BEFORE THE NIGHT IS OVER
HAPPY AGAIN
There is a time in most of our lives – maybe our twenties, sometimes into our thirties -when the world feels as glamorous as it will ever feel, when we are as handsome and young and fashionably turned out as we will ever be, and if we’re lucky we catch the feeling, and feel the crest and synergy of it as we walk in our own ideas of Downtown. Somewhere my memory turns into that of my mother’s, and I’m browsing the endless counters at some department store, spritzing perfume and letting the silk of scarves run through my fingers as if they were the smallest jewel-like streams of water.
Sooner or later we all come home for Halloween. Whether it’s where we start off as kids, exploding onto the sidewalks through the crunch of leaves, tripping on our costumes and finding our way through masks at a time before they were an everyday accoutrement, or where we return after a night of trick-or-treating, spent and happily exhausted, but not enough to run to bed before a few hits of candy, home is where Halloween ends and begins. When we get older, it’s where we station ourselves to give back to the next generation of costume-clad children, opening our door and doling out candy from the other side of the scene in a time-honored tradition that forms the first peak of the fall season, and ushering in the earliest part of the holidays to come.
That idea of being home for Halloween – in whatever form home may take these days – informed the lyrics to this year’s Halloween song – our first in ten years. When the inspiration hit me, I was already tucked in bed for the night, but the Halloween spirits whispered and nudged and impelled me to the computer, where I groggily typed out these lyrics in a mixture of possession and mad delight. At the same time, a melody emerged to go with the chorus, and writing music is something that I don’t usually do. Having matriculated at the School of Madonna, which is by all accounts hardly a proper School of Music, I knew little to nothing about writing the musical part of a song, but I made a quick recording of what I was hearing in my head (in sad, pitiful voice) and stored it away to sing to the real music men later. Texting the lyrics off to Joe, I got a reply almost immediately that he was up for working on our Halloween song again – a reunion that had been ten years in the making.
No one talks about the way we all come home for Halloween
No one wants to be that weeping, screaming, mellow drama queen
No one knows the freedom some of us have found behind the mask
No one dares to be the brave soul, only one of whom will ask
The day I drove to Connecticut to visit Missy and Joe and their kids, Julian and Cameron, it was sunny and idyllic – the perfect fall day to inspire a new Halloween song. Within minutes of my arrival, Joe and I sat down beside his guitar garden and began pounding out the basic bones and structure of the song. I sang my little melody for the chorus, and an embarrassingly-rough verse, both of which he took and made into something beautiful and truly melodic. He recorded the basic notes, plotted the chord progressions, and the primitive blueprint began to take shape as an actual piece of music.
There’s a fright, there’s a cut, there’s a knife,
there’s a wicked way of making it through the night.
There’s a dream, there’s a scream, make a scene,
it’s a scary scheme for finding your way to the light.
We moved upstairs to where the keyboard and computer and real recording equipment was set up – in Julian’s Cozy Fall Studio – warmed by apple and pumpkin scented candles, seasonal gourds and garlands, and the warm glow of an afternoon sun moving deeper into the horizon. Joe masterfully pounded out the framework of the chorus, and then, to my surprise and delight, came up with the first jewel of the song: the pre-chorus above that is absolutely my favorite part of the whole song.
{Chorus}: Halloween, Halloween, will you answer, tell me why?
All the goblins, all the witches, all the children going by
Halloween, Halloween, will you treat before you trick?
Halloween, oh Halloween, I hear your tock, I hear your tick.
The next day we worked on finishing the basic structure and fitting the lyrics in, then the second jewel arrived in the form of Julian and his gorgeous cello stylings, which added just the right element to the second pre-chorus, as well as backing the breakdown of the chorus near the end. It lended a grounding beauty to the cheesy, over-the-top feel we were originally intending, and immediately made this song into something more than I initially thought possible.
Here we are now at the front door, giving candy to the kids
On the flip side of adulthood, trying not to flip our lids
Was it more fun on the outside? Oh that funny twist of fate
Still we sing this to the phantom and the pumpkin oh-so-great
That afternoon Doug and Julio arrived to join us for dinner and, to Doug’s surprise, to sing on the song. My singing abilities are solely for the car or the shower, in other words I have a voice that was made for isolation, with a tone and pitch that can only be compared to that of a howler monkey. Joe has a fine voice but since I’d already tasked him with just about everything else, it was left to Doug to step up and give his vocal talents to the project at hand. And step up he did – not only nailing every note and cadence, but adding the third jewel to this song in the form of those luscious melodies you hear in the second verse and the ending chorus.
There’s a fright, there’s a cut, there’s a knife,
there’s a wicked way of making it through the night (through the night!)
There’s a dream, there’s a scream, make a scene,
it’s a scary scheme for finding your way to the light (to the light!)
One of the absolute highlights of my year was simply being allowed in the same room as these two musical masters while they crafted and worked through the singing of a song I had a hand in writing. While they spoke in musical terms that went far beyond my barely-recalled memories of the Empire State Youth Orchestra, I was content to sit quietly in the corner and suggest we change the word ‘still’ to ‘so’. It was an honor just to be in the proximity of them as they worked and the song took flight.
{Chorus}: Halloween, Halloween, will you answer, tell me why?
All the goblins, all the witches, all the children going by
Halloween, Halloween, will you treat before you trick?
Halloween, oh Halloween, I hear your tock, I hear your tick.
While Julio and Missy toiled and troubled with the kids downstairs, we laid down all the tracks to get what we needed for the final mixing the next morning. It was one of the most fun nights of the year, and the good spirit and bonhomie bled into a song that I hope everyone loves as much as I do.
{Chorus}: Halloween, Halloween, will you answer, tell me why?
All the goblins, all the witches, all the children going by
Halloween, Halloween, will you treat before you trick?
Halloween, oh Halloween, I hear your tock, I hear your tick.
Many thanks to all of these great friends, who each contributed in their own way:
Joseph Abramo – For the musical prowess, the guitar garden, the skills and knowledge to make it all come together, and especially for the chance to do it all again.
Julian Abramo – For the magnificent cello work and use of the Cozy Fall Recording Studio.
Douglas Coates – For the vocals and those dreamy, creamy Carpenter harmonies.
Julio Vazquez – For the heartfelt talk and driving Doug home.
Cameron Abramo – For the fashion, the ferocity and the spider-walk.
In times of artistic doubt and uncertainty, sometimes it is best to simply sit and wait.
Sometimes it will come to you the next day.
Sometimes it takes ten years.
Ten years ago was the last time that my friend Joe and I crafted a Halloween song. Up until then we’d made it a late summer/early fall tradition to create a song for Halloween, following a few years in which he wrote some on his own. In this last decade, a lot has happened – in both of our lives – and for various reasons we never quite got it together to come up with another Halloween song. I think we were both fine with that, but I also think something was missing, and this year we found our way back to a place that fulfilled our creative expression and fostered our friendship.
After capping a few Halloween songs with an elaborate (for my limited capability) video in 2011, we may have both feared trying to top something that for us felt like a peak. There were other things at work too – parenthood and jobs and the way life throws one obstacle after another at us until we either turn bitter or jaded or entirely apathetic to the world at large. That’s not a good place to produce anything that might move people.
While I cannot speak for Joe, I can say that at various times in the last ten years I’ve felt like I lost my way a bit, and feeling lost is scary emotional territory. It’s often too frightening to exorcize through writing or artistic expression, and so we dive into the mundane details of life, merely going through the motions and trying to find ourselves in what society says we should be doing.
That rarely works.
All the goblins and the witches don’t disappear just because you close your eyes and pretend they’re not there. We may have stopped making Halloween music but that didn’t silence the demons that lurked far beyond Halloween, and only when I started delving into that and working on things I hadn’t addressed since childhood did I find my own way back to our tradition.
When Joe posted a few Facebook memories of the songs we’d done before, I watched and remembered. Those were such happy times, and it wasn’t because we were making great art or the perfect song – we were just creating and having fun and enjoying the way that making something together binds two friends closer in a manner that almost nothing else approaches. When I realized that, I also realized it was time to do it again.
That night a melody for a chorus snuck into my head, the lyrics poured out of me onto the computer screen, and I shot off a text to Joe with the idea. He wrote back that he was game, and our collaboration had begun. The video snippet above is just a sneak peek of our Halloween song for 2021: ‘Home for Halloween’. The full story, and song, complete with some special guest collaborators, is coming this week.
No one talks about the way we all come home for Halloween…
Lately I’ve found some tranquility and solace in the work of Sophie Hutchings and her exquisite piano pieces, such as this one titled ‘Living Light’. It is lovely meditative music for before or after a meditation session. Returning to meditation has been one of the gifts I’ve given myself during this fall. It seems necessary when the season turns, and will hopefully guide me through the winter. When the world feels heavy, and the wind starts to chill, it’s time to take a little more self-care.
Searching the sky is a practice to induce peace, even when the sky is of turbulent nature, churning and swirling with storms like ocean swells in the air. What we seek is solace. Maybe the more violent the air, the less tumult we feel in our hearts. Or maybe we seek to match the somersaulting of the heart with a complementary tumbling of the sky. Everyone finds their own path to their own idea of calm.
It brings to mind a wickedly wonderful quote from Gregory Maguire: “When the times are a crucible, when the air is full of crisis, those who are the most themselves are the victims.“
Maybe that’s darker than this post was intended to be, but in darkness there may be serenity as well. Sometimes darkness carries a deeper beauty, running like an undercurrent beneath clear, still water. It’s a sort of beauty that can’t fully be seen, only felt.
What a song for the moment. Maybe if we went a little easier on each other we’d all be so much better off. It’s a good reminder – and not just to go easy on each other, but on ourselves as well. We can be so demanding, so harsh, so punishing – and the world will more than take care of that over the years.
Go easy on me baby
I was still a child
Didn’t get the chance to
Feel the world around me
I had no time to choose
What I chose to do
So go easy on me
An Adele song may be the best thing to happen to the moment – or the worst. I haven’t quite made up my mind. If we are going to go through it, however, we might as well really go through it, and no singer embodies going through it like Adele. We’ll let her speak for our heartache.
{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
Bitch, I’m loca (Y yo loco, loco)
Bésame la boca (¿Y tú qué me das?)
Bitch, me gusta (Y yo te provoco)
Mucho que me asusta (Por eso no te vas)
One of the weaker tracks from Madonna’s ‘Madame X’ opus, ‘Bitch I’m Loca’ is another duet with Maluma, who shone to far better effect on ‘Medellín’. This one has a grittier edge to it, closer to the work they did for his own album at the time. I enjoy the rawness of it, I only wish it came with a slightly better melody, and a more creative title. (Didn’t she get all the bitches out of her system with the ‘Rebel Heart’ album?)
As for my own memories of this song, they aren’t strong and they aren’t many. Mostly because I skipped is every time it came on. The summer of ‘Madame X’ had more joys and enchantments to bother with than this filler track.
So nice to meet you, Mr. Safe
So nice to meet you, Mrs. Crazy
Where do you want me to put this?
Um, you can put it inside
The rain was tugging on these fall berries, but they held fast to their perch, refusing to let go. Such obstinance in the face of nature is admirable. Eventually they know they must succumb. Even if they manage to remain on their host branch for the winter, the wind and the cold will desiccate and decimate them, until they resemble tiny black shriveled raisins, if they resemble anything at all. Sometimes winter takes all of what they once held inside them, turning it inside out and exposing the tender fruit and seeds.
Still, there is something to be said for putting up the good fight.
Fall brings to mind lessons like this – lessons of resilience and strength, of going through with the mission of life even when adversity seems poised to win, even when the outcome looks grim or at best uncertain. It’s the nobility in finishing a race you already know you have lost, of closing out a game in which there is no possible way to win. The simple act of seeing something through to completion, no matter what the end may look or feel like.
And, truth be told, one never knows how benign or kind the winter may be. Perhaps Mother Nature has doled out enough pain with all of this summer’s rain. Perhaps she’s battered us enough. We’ve had years where such berries lasted well into December. I remember a holiday stroll in Boston where there were roses still blooming. Part of that felt wrong, but mostly I just embraced the reprieve, pulling them close to my nose and laughing at our luck.
Borne back by the night, by the song of a piano in the fall, I stumble into something that feels like crying, or a heaviness of the heart that doesn’t quite lift when it should. Like a house at the turn of a stream, where the water forever falls, even in the hottest and happiest summers, the heart stands still while the world flows around it.
Looking into the rush of the water, I see stones that have kept their stillness and place, unbothered by the babbling around them, undisturbed by the algae, untouched by the fish – I try to embody the implacable peace and resignation of those stones, the way they so calmly exist without intruding. Longing for that stillness, I imagine sinking beneath the water and beneath the silence – beneath the fall and the winter and the spring to come – and there is a tranquility in that space.
There is a little sliver of grace in that moment – the water ever flowing, never the same, never replenished and yet never-ending. Masters of mindfulness sometimes offer the image of a pebble dropped into a stream to aid in achieving a state of meditation, the idea of the pebble sinking straight down despite the swirl of water around it. While water plants and animals swim and undulate in the currents of the stream, the pebble stays to its quick path, then remains where it lands – a point of absolute stillness and serenity no matter what madness whirls about above it.
I yearn for the certainty of that, for the grace of being within that stillness. We each seek it in our way, at least I hope that we do. It seems like such a noble quest. I want to believe we all want to be better, even as the world batters me with the irrefutable news of how awful we can be to one another. And then I wonder if maybe the world is already broken, like a tree that splits and crumbles under its own weight and some other unforeseen disaster, irreparable and irreplaceable, and we can only live in a place that’s forever fractured.
It was in this post where I describe the spooky ghoul who predicted my death date as… wait for it… (but don’t wait that long)… today, September 23, 2021. So depending on what time of the day this cataclysmic (for me) event takes place, this post may be coming to you posthumously. Of course, as is my wont, I won’t be going quietly or easily, so consider this anything but a parting shot. I’ve touched enough people to live on for quite a few more years, even if I’m not physically here. There are stories to tell, memories to rekindle, and ways to survive beyond this world. In truth, my presence often looms larger when I’m absent… and you don’t even know it. Don’t think that wasn’t designed.
There’s a clock on the wall and it’s moving too slow
It’s got hours to kill and a lifetime to go
And I’m holding my breath ’til I hear the last bell
Then I’m coming out hard and I’m giving ’em hell
For a last song, this one truly sings to me. It’s not about fading out or going gently into that good night. It’s from my latest obsession ‘Everybody’s Talking About Jamie’ and it could function as a hello and goodbye… and you don’t even know it.
I’m a superstar and you don’t even know it
In a wonder bra and you don’t even know it
You’re so blah, blah and you don’t even know it
I’m like, au revoir and you don’t even know it
There’s a path I’ve planned (and you don’t even know it)
To the promised land (and you don’t even know it)
And you won’t understand (and you don’t even know it)
‘Cause you’re my backing band (and you don’t even know it)
And it’s the Jamie show (and you don’t even know it)
‘Cause you’re meh, so-so (and you don’t even know it)
And sorta slow (and you don’t even know it)
And I’m go, go, go (and you don’t even know it)
When I was first told of the day I was going to die, I was both relieved and grateful – relieved that it was set and done, and grateful for the two years I had then in which to tick through my bucket list. The only problem? I don’t really have much of a formal bucket list – – and so I proceeded through the last two years fumbling along as I’ve done for much of my life – while improving and bettering myself in small increments. Regrets? Nah. Every misstep and mistake made me smarter, better, faster, stronger and all that shit. I also did it while impeccably attired. The world crumbled around us, but I would not go down without a sartorial last stand.
I’ve got the dreams, I’ve got the style
I’ve got the moves to make you smile So kiss my ass goodbye
‘Cause I’m gonna be the one
I’m on my way, I won’t be turned
Your stupid lessons I’ve unlearned
And I’ll be free to fly
And I’m gonna kiss the sun…
While the fashion fairies worked their magic on my exterior, I also worked on what was going on inside – the heart, the head, the soul – all of it messy and convoluted and embedded with years of turmoil, trouble and transformation. The quest for perfection – a foolish and impossible quest with no happy ending – was seen as the dead end it always was, and in its place I found a happier freedom, dropping the guard in ways I never thought possible.
And if ever you find life is getting you down
There’s a party to start in a new part of town
Where there’s a guest list of one and the name’s Jamie New
And if you ask me real nice I might sign you in too
‘Cause baby I’m a hit (and you don’t even know it)
Legit (and you don’t even know it)
Better give me room (and you don’t even know it)
For my va-va voom (and you don’t even know it)
‘Cause I’m coming up (and you don’t even know it)
In a double D cup (and you don’t even know it)
When a boy’s this stacked (and you don’t even know it)
He’s the headline act (and you don’t even know it)
What would you do if you were told the exact day you were going to die? Live it up? Give it up? Change your life? Change nothing at all? For the most part, I forgot about the prediction until someone at work brought it back up. Part of me thinks I would have sailed through this day without incident if I hadn’t been reminded of it. Now a small, fantastical part of me thinks I may unwittingly will it into being, pricking my finger on some hidden spindle I didn’t remember storing in some dim corner of the attic.
I’ve got the dreams, I’ve got the style
I’ve got the moves to make you smile
So kiss my ass goodbye
‘Cause I’m gonna be the one
And when you’re old, like 32
You’ll all remember Jamie New
The kid who learned to fly
And I’m gonna kiss the sun
Which brings us to this moment and the hours that remain to the day – perhaps my last day – perhaps your last day too because who knows when anyone’s time is up? I feel like I should have some contingency plan in effect, when in fact all I have is a couple of posts pre-populated here (and none of them particularly exceptional, so tell everyone this was my last one). Beyond that there is only the beautiful abyss, the beautiful hereafter, the beautiful whatever-is-to-come… and that holds true for every day – the ones we don’t get to begin, and the ones that we do.
Oh baby I’m a hit (you don’t even know it)
So admit (we you don’t even know it)
Yeah, I’m a hit (she you don’t even know it)
Just a bit (he you don’t even know it)
And I’m smoking hot (we you don’t even know it)
And I’ve got the lot (we you don’t even know it)
Yeah, what I got (she you don’t even know it)
Yeah, you have not
We don’t even know it (you don’t even know it)
We don’t even know it (you don’t even know it)
She don’t even know it (she don’t even know it)
He don’t even know it (he don’t even know it)
We don’t even know it (you don’t even know it)
She don’t even know it (you don’t even know it)
She don’t even know it
And you don’t even know it
It took about 40 years, but Abba is finally releasing new music this fall, and ‘Don’t Shut Me Down’ is officially our song of the season, charming with its typically lush melodies and harmonies, and lyrics that lend themselves to myriad universal readings – as any decent Abba song does. My own take is going to align with the fall season, and the opportunity for a renewal of promises, a promise of a new beginning, and a beginning of something that might be more wonderful than anything we’ve known. After a summer of disappointment, such over-the-top proclamations are welcome – and if we fail at reaching the moon and stars, perhaps we’ll land in some lofty tree top that still manages to afford something better than where we’ve been treading.
A while ago I heard the sound of children’s laughter
Now it’s quiet, so I guess they left the park
This wooden bench is getting harder by the hour
The sun is going down, it’s getting dark
A group as venerable as Abba might seem an unlikely choice for injecting something fresh and new into the stagnancy that was this summer, and perhaps the previous year, but on giving this one a few listens, I’m here for it and all its creamy lusciousness. It matches the slightly gaudy color scheme we’ve implemented for fall – the brilliant clash of orange and fuchsia, and touches of bright purple and hot pink to add further spark and jarring juxtaposition. Sometimes more is simply and wonderfully more.
I realize I’m cold
The rain begins to pour
As I watch the windows on the second floor
The lights are on, it’s time to go
It’s time at last to let him know
I believe it would be fair to say
You look bewildered
And you wonder why I’m here today
And so you should, I would
When I left I felt I’d had enough
But in the shape and form I appear now
I have learned to cope
And love and hope is why I am here now
If you are one of the marvelous readers who has returned here faithfully over the past couple of decades, first of all, thank you. It is for us that I keep posting and writing and creating, and if you gather any enjoyment or amusement from this, it means more than you know. Second, faithful visitors over the last few years may have seen the gradual shift in tone and atmosphere, as a personal blog is prone to reflect the shifts and evolution of the person in charge of it. While appearance and superficial flash will always have a place here, there’s room for something deeper, something more meaningful, and I’m finding that more in my friends and family, and in the journey of becoming a better person, no matter how small or slight the increments or reaches end up being.
And now you see another me, I’ve been reloaded, yeah
I’m fired up, don’t shut me down
I’m like a dream within a dream that’s been decoded
I’m fired up, I’m hot, don’t shut me down
I’m not the one you knew
I’m now and then combined
And I’m asking you to have an open mind
I’m not the same this time around
I’m fired up, don’t shut me down
And so we begin a new fall season – the concluding phase of our 18th year (#19 begins in January 2022!) There are a few new characters about to be introduced, some old traditions that will hopefully be resurrected, and that recharged autumnal energy that can only come from a chill in the morning air. I want to continue expanding and implementing the mindfulness that comes with meditation, while working to be a better husband, son, uncle, brother, and friend. That means there’s a little more personal investment in the stories spun here, and a deeper emotional pull that makes this a labor of love. There’s also a humility and vulnerability at work as well, because I’m going to continue to make mistakes, and nothing here was ever, or will ever be, perfect. We will reckon with that too – and that’s always going to be more riveting than my naked ass – or any naked ass for that matter – could ever be.
Will you leave me standing in the hall
Or let me enter?
The apartment hasn’t changed at all
I got to say I’m glad
Once these rooms were witness to our love
My tantrums and increasing frustration
But I go from mad
To not so bad in my transformation
Fall is the prime time for such new ventures. It’s when we get to see how our little cast of characters has evolved and changed, what sort of new hairstyles they have (mine will be gray) and what new wardrobe selections will be revealed (I’m embracing Harry Styles and high waists of late). Above and beyond that, there are some familiar and not-so-familiar faces entering the fray – the twins are now old enough to stay over and be more or less self-sufficient. We have a traditional Treasure Hunt weekend coming up that may involve a trip to Manchester, Vermont. Our cousin Tyler is back on the East Coast and up for more adventures. And a long-lost high school friend from Amsterdam resurfaced, so watch for her Boston debut here as well. All in all, some good people are set to join our crazy circle.
And now you see another me, I’ve been reloaded, yeah
I’m fired up, don’t shut me down
I’m like a dream within a dream that’s been decoded
I’m fired up, I’m hot, don’t shut me down
I’m not the one you knew
I’m now and then combined
And I’m asking you to have an open mind now
I’m not the same this time around
I’m fired up, don’t shut me down
Even better than the new are the stalwart standbys – the precious people who have populated my life and saved it on more than a few occasions – friends and family who continue to enrich my life, and make the marked difficulties of living in such a time not only bearable but enjoyable – and for that I am extremely thankful and excited. They are the main characters of this space, and if you’ve been here with any regularity you know them by name. Here, everybody is a star.
As for you, who are reading this now – you are always welcome to join in the fun. I’m glad you’re here. Let’s head into fall together.
You asked me not to leave
Well, here I am again
And I love you still and so I won’t pretend
I have learned to cope
And love and hope is why I am here now.
Actor, singer and songwriter Sean Doherty is more than a triple threat – his talents reach into the multitudes well beyond the number three, and his latest exercise in catchy ear candy is the delicious ‘boys in the backseat’. Today he earns the Dazzler of the Day for all the promise and excitement that his career looks to hold. Check out his intoxicating website here for further details.
Some consider Harry Styles the heir to Mick Jagger’s throne, and some think he’s gone beyond that into a stratosphere of new rock-pop superstardom. His latest album is an exercise in musical genius, and his live performances are spectacular, designed with the wisdom of letting his unbridled charisma and star-power shine through. Sparkling fringe vests and rainbow flags are just cherries on this Dazzler of the Day – and I love anyone who lives up to their name.
