Music of the moment: Kimya Dawson
Kimya Dawson makes me happy, even when the world is frozen.
I feel like this winter simply isn’t planning on ending for us. Ever. The winters that are cold, yet relatively free from snow, here in the Southwestern Michigan Tropics seem like they have never happened, as we keep getting pummeled by snow to the tune of 3-4 inches per week (that may not seem like much; but it’s more than enough to grind this city to a halt due to our lackluster city services and people who, despite living in the Motor City, show a certain reluctance toward driving like a sentient being.)
I think this general cold is causing a general malaise as well for me, as it regards things like writing. And physical activity. And anything that would require any level of ambition or motivation. I really just want to hibernate.
At least there is only a week left until I head out to SXSW, and I am really gearing up for it. I will wear sandals, and I will go swimming, and I will sit outside in shorts and a t-shirt and I will be warm and happy.
Wonderful moment worth recapping as of late:
Last week, down in Greektown on a rare, sunny day, scoping out the gallery where TFN will be hosting a solo exhibition of her works in May, we stopped into a little convenience store. We bought Cokes in glass bottles, and the Greek man behind the counter opened them with his bottle opener, smiling and saying a thickly accented “Just like old times, ah?”
Walking through the streets of Detroit on that rare sunny winter day, glass bottle of Coke in my hand was a total flashback to childhood Saturdays, and as we went by Comerica Park, what did we see? People taking photos, sightseeing in our city! That felt good. Even if Detroit’s mayor is corrupt, and won’t resign despite being discovered to have committed perjury on the stand regarding using city money to facilitate an affair with his chief of staff, and despite the fact they are still investigating his possible connection in the murder of a stripper… yep, this is all going on… at least people are still sightseeing down here, and maybe one day it will recover.
OK, one more from Kimya.
“They think we’re disposable. Well, both my thumbs are opposable.”
So that’s where I’ve been lately, I’ve been cold. Eventually I will be warm, and then I’ll be more active. Activity would be nice.
Oh, also, as of this year, Iceman went to a lottery, meaning that the slots for the race don’t simply go to the attentive that sign up when it opens. The nice thing was that the lottery was open to teams as well, meaning that if you signed up as a team, and one name was drawn, you all get to go. And this year, Team Angry Monkey made the cut, so we’ll be heading up to Zillaville once again!
I want to ride my bike. We made it so far as to plan a ride on Sunday, but at zero hour it was decided that going to breakfast would be more prudent, so as to not risk an icy accident on the trail and start out the year with a fractured clavicle.
Later that day, after attending B’s second birthday and showing a pair of toddlers how to perform medical procedures on a cat (it was stuffed, and part of a children’s pretend-we’re-a-vet kit) we were driving home and saw an ambulance loading up a cyclist who spilled on an icy sidewalk. It reaffirmed our decision.
Sometimes I make the right decisions regarding risking injury.
Broken clavicles, not good.
When Pickles broke hers, Jamoker said lots of cyclists do because they stick their hand out to spare a fall.
I did not know that.
Sorry about your coldness. I type this while it sleets outside, but I was aware this would happen, and detached from the teasing that happened two days ago.
So, you wanna log bike miles for the Save the Universe challenge?
When is Angry Monkey this year? I sure wish it would coordinate itself with Myrte's wedding, but something tells me it won't.
How about that May exhibition?
Maybe we could swing that!
May in Detroit could beat April in Paris, if you ask me, but I think we should do both (gluttony, yo).
My favorite lines from the lullaby: "and now there's a mountain goat
precariously balanced on the frog stuck in my throat it says 'sometimes whispering's okay, but maybe you'd feel better if you screamed today'"
When screaming doesn't work, breaking things might -- glass jars & bottles, thrown hard into metal recycling dumpsters, rather than hurtling over handlebars and breaking clavicles, because the pain is less and the sound is more.
I'm so sick and tired of being f-f-f-frozen.
You know what I like? I like how her right hand strums, all kind of stiff but fluttery, and I like how the funny smile never leaves her face. She's a gem.
I love that young woman, Kimya, she's darling and folksie and a lyrical genius.
I'm sick of this weather too, sick I tell ya. My bones ache and my soul longs for summer, or at least spring.
Glad you reconsidered about the bike ride, I know you're jonesing, but better safe than sorry.
It was sixty seven here last Sunday, Sam and I went on a bike ride, well, he rode I walked, and apart from having to use my sun glasses on top of my head to keep the stray hairs that flew out of my banana clip out of my eyes, yeah it was a hair catastrophe kind a day, it was amazing. The the sky dumped a shit pile of snow on us the next day...grumble.
And, oh man have you seen Across the Universe yet? My daughter turned me on to it, the sound track is frappin cool as heck.
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