Oh yeah
I almost kind of forgot that this is new year’s eve. I mean, based on the post just previous to this one I must have had some idea the year was coming to a very soon end but it didn’t dawn on me that this is NEW YEAR’S EVE until a few minutes ago. I don’t typically celebrate this particular holiday. I think it has something to do with the large crowds full of raucous people who are all touching me and talking too loudly and just generally getting in my space. I also don’t do resolutions. I just … don’t. If they work for or just plain entertain you then that is delightful. I’m not that into them myself.
Mainly, I know it must be NEW YEAR’S EVE because there is more activity in the building and on the streets and the emergency vehicles are out in force. 2008 will be rung in with sirens and flashing blue and red lights I’m afraid. And some knucklehead will light a fistful of fireworks on my street around 2 a.m. at exactly 2:27 a.m. because he is too drunk to keep up with the actual time. Awesome.
Have I mentioned how much I hate people?
Happy New Year to you and yours, and good luck with your resolutions. I do mean that sincerely. No. I really do.
And now? I am going to bed.
You take what you need and you leave the rest
I just returned from a trip to the mountains for Christmas which was lovely and good fun as always. On the way there and back, I listened to The Last Waltz, which was sent to me by my friend CJ. It is an understatement to say that this is remarkable music. I have heard almost all of it before and many times but for some reason—perhaps being alone with only the music and my thoughts in the car—I really listened to it and I found myself in tears, sobbing really, over this song.
People react to and feel very differently about music. Some don’t really care for it at all. Some are pegged as possibly too emotionally tied to it, if that is even possible. I think music is one of the more nurturing and sustaining things humans have ever created. I think it is an astounding form of communication. I can never predict which songs will sneak up on me or what about them makes my chest tighten and the tears well up. It is occasionally embarrassing of course. I mean, this sort of reaction is rare, but it does happen and if someone had been in the car with me I would have been embarrassed at such an explosion of raw emotion. It isn’t that I am ashamed; it is that it is unfailingly awkward.
If I had to guess what gets me I would pin the blame on the gestalt of the lyrics and story, the arrangement and key it is in, and the wonderful voice of Levon Helm.
I don’t expect you to have the same reaction. Telling you of mine virtually guarantees you won’t, of course. Still, it is a magnificent song.
White noise
“On the fifth day, which was a Sunday, it rained very hard. I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty.”
-The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, Mark Haddon
I like it when it rains hard too.
This book is a Christmas present from The Littons, and I opened it today and am reading it today even though it is a Christmas present and today isn’t Christmas. Whatever.
A typical mountain woman
“Sam Underwood’s two story frame house stood above Rock Castle Creek, surrounded by gardens, pastures and outbuildings. A Delco plant provided electricity for lights in the house and a large stone chimney with fireplaces and cookstoves provided warmth. Ruby and her sisters helped with the cooking, tending the chickens and gardening, while her older brothers got out early to tackle heavier chores. All of the children helped with getting in the hay, and Ruby, as the smallest, was sent atop the haystack to stamp the hay down as it was pitchforked up. The hay had to be stacked with particular care, and Ruby remembered how itchy and hot the job was, clinging to the pole in the middle and marching around on top of the slippery hay as the stack rose higher beneath her bare feet.”
[Via]
“Ruby’s first lessons at the little school would have been the basics, reading, letters, simple sums and deportment. Learning to read opened up an exciting new world to the little mountain girl from the sheltered hollow in the Blue Ridge. She read everything that came into her hands; especially the books the family owned and whatever she could beg or borrow from neighbors. School became her greatest pleasure, in spite of a hike up hill and down that would be considered intolerable for a child of today.”
[Via]
My cousin Leslie is a wonderful storyteller.
