There’s this song I’ve always loved, written and performed by Weezer before they were Weezer. You know, back when they were just Rivers Cuomo and played songs in somebody’s garage and were probably being influenced by the old tools hanging on the wall. The song was called Longtime Sunshine, I’ve listened to it countless times. I’m listening to it now.
There is nothing especially beautiful about the performance, it’s actually rather brassy and sort of sounds terrible on a variety of levels, come to think of. But the words ring true and deep for me, and musically I think it could have been a beautiful song. Someone should do another rendition of it. Please? Or perhaps it is the messy, unfinished nature of the song itself that expresses what I connect to so deeply in the words. Maybe Rivers was brilliant. Or maybe I am just thinking too much about things tonight.
Did you know River’s brother’s name was Leaves? Yes, yes it’s true.
Just like this blog.
Welcome to my sleepy, curious and musing mind on this starry, tuesday night. How goes it?
This was the long and short of my Christmas decorating this weekend:
I had this little burst of Christmas cheer on Saturday, and this is what happened.
Hmm….yeees. As you can see, the end result strongly suggests a few of Irish gnomes and a dozen or so fairies had a nice little keg party in my garden. Oh well, it makes me smile and remember all the good of Christmas. The lights also mesmerize my dogs when they walk by, consequently causing them to forget about peeing on what is left of my garden altogether. Win-win.
Speaking of Christmas cheer, I do believe I have discovered the best eggnog in the world. When I was a kid my mom would make eggnog from scratch, before, you know, they told the world raw eggs would be the end of all civilization.
Who exactly ‘they’ are I’m not sure, but ‘they’ sure think a lot of things will kill a lot of us a great deal of the time. Anyhow, because my mom used to make this amazing eggnog when I was little, I’m sort of particular about it now. My brother must be too, because he brought some over on Thanksgiving that was delectable. Southern Comfort, try it. Oh please oh please.
I am sure I had other nonsense I wanted to tell you about, perhaps I’ll come back later to finish this. As of this moment I’m beginning to fall asleep at the wheel, so to speak, as I’m writing this whilst sinking into a delightfully cozy bed with only a candle nearby to light the room.
A vanilla candle at that. Not exactly the most conducive way to remain alert. I’ll have to remember that next time I’m trying to fall asleep, though generally speaking I need no incentive.
Oh, and my laptop’s battery is at 5%
So goodnight for now friend, I shall return shortly with more insignificant nonsense to share soon enough.
Hello hello. Just as promised, I’m back to finish up the nonsense I began on Monday. Can’t let you go with half of what you came for, there is always enough nonsense to go around, you know.
My dad informed me last night that he’s heading out to Ireland for a while and I’ve decided I am vicariously going to go with him. ‘Tis one of my favorite places in all the world, to be sure, the place God first created green. I’ll be moving there someday, but until then I’ll just amass such glorious shots as these until I turn into a leprechaun.
Oh wait, there is no such thing as a female leprechaun, is there? Er…I’ll just turn into a fairy then…yes, a fairy do just as well.
My neighbor Scott already thinks I am one for some reason. He says I have ‘too much twinkle’ in my eye most of the time and am more curious than what is good for me. I tell him it’s because I have a tender, inquisitive heart and that those are tears in my eyes. Yeah, he doesn’t buy that at all.
Ok, can someone please explain to me the whole gangnam style thing? I’m afraid I don’t get it. At all. It just makes me stare and make weird faces. I’ll buy you dinner and show you said weird faces if you can.
One of my friends recently asked me why I like to write such random twaddle when I have so many more deep, weighty thoughts on my mind on a near constant basis. My answer to her included the very question she had posed to me. For I write not only to convey and process the deep, somber things of this world, but also to escape them. I’ve learned my heart, know it’s depths, and am aware of what I carry every day. It is good that I have learned to find and celebrate the simple, good, lighthearted and even nonsensical gifts of life and keep them with me. Such things can help us get through the most sorrowful of times, most especially for those who are prone to such depths, or who bear inexpressible burdens or scars most of the world will never know.
We must dance while we cross the battlefield, accepting the ‘insignificant’ blessings from God as well as the deep, fighting on in this beautiful terrible place as we learn to laugh and weep and rest and die with Him.