Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Make Your Own Kind of Music



I remember people through music, sometimes a movie but mainly songs.  Some friends remind me of a particular artist.  Other's represent a period of music, like the 90s.  I remember my brothers' album collections and piecing together images of them in my mind.  They were older and had whole sides that I didn't get to see firsthand but could imagine through their album selections.  I'd listen in headphones to try to tap into their world. Ohio Players, Honey.  The Doors, LA Woman.  War, the World is a Ghetto.  Aretha Franklin, Lady Soul.
My sister in law always played old Motown and sang while driving me around in her car.  Her long delicate fingers tapping to the beat on the steering wheel.  I loved the vibe she created while cruising in that car. I listened to the words like she was telling me stories.  So laid back and calm.  Upbeat and steady.  Times in my life are permanently attached to certain albums.  Elton John's self titled album, skipping school and inviting depression and loneliness over not knowing how powerful music can be to a young mind.  But then learning  in the same way, how it could uplift you when nothing else worked.  How through the headphones you could lose your current bleak reality and step into a vibrant exciting realm where time did not exist, only the moment you were hearing.
I remember when my sister attended her first concert.  I was so jealous.  Donny Osmond.  She came home aglow! Glowing I tell you!  I made her tell me every detail.  A coworker at Virgin, a true lover of new music, when given the choice to play any album often chose one of three.  Todd Rundgren, Seal, or Annie Lennox.   Now I can't hear any of them without immediately thinking of her.
My mom loves festive tex-mex.  The accordion of Flaco Jimenez.  She is not a naturally upbeat person.  She let out her music in other ways I believe.  But when I think of her, I think of that music and food and fresh air, and beauty and color.  When I met my mate he played me Kris Kristofferson and seemed to be from another time entirely.  I instantly found him fascinating and wanted to be hear everything that could make someone like him at a time when music was loud and violent and angry.  It almost seemed absurd to me when Hole was performing at the IBeam that this guy would rather write songs in his room.  But that was everything about him at once and I admire and appreciate all of it to this day.  
I've noticed the new people in my life are not reminding me of any music at all.  I don't hear a thing. And I wonder if it's me.  Have I lost the ability to create friends and times that reflect the amazing sounds of the moment?  Is that a tool you don't get to keep?
Maybe it's harder hearing people's sound through all the largeness of this city.
Too many times in recent years I've tried to tune out my own station.  But on this day, I got a surprise and was not required to work my scheduled shit shift after riding to work on a beautiful day.  I had the afternoon to just enjoy the sights and make my own views.

































When I got home from a 3 hour ride, I made a tomatillo pork and potato stew that made my entire body sing!  Chunks of red potato, carrots and slow cooked pork along with cumin, tomatillos, stock and lime.

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