Or as Huey Lewis & the News so succinctly put it a million light years ago: “I need a new drug!”
Something/Anything. [Todd Rundgren said that in 1972.]
Mostly, I’m just exhausted, gang. Spiritually. Psychologically. The constant dialogue that goes on in my brain.
ME (to my brain, while I’m washing the breakfast dishes): “You know, I could adapt that Cleveland project for the stage. I’d have to re-think the story arc, but I can already see the sets.”
MY BRAIN:”Knock it off already. We’ve got too many ideas in here.”
ME (to my brain this morning, while I’m going over the new memoir): “You know, I could re-write this as a micro -memoir. Or even a long prose poem.”
MY BRAIN:”Knock it off already. We’ve got too many ideas in here. You should not have even started this one in the first place.”
ME (to my brain, while I’m listening to White Lunar during lunch): “This music is giving me some great ideas for Tell My Bones. I could see re-writing it as a screenplay.”
MY BRAIN: “You idiot!! It started out as a screenplay! Knock it off already!”
I’m just exhausted. Happy, but exhausted.
And then yet another Australian musician started following me on Instagram today. And he texts me something about a photo I posted of Patti Smith’s Horses album cover (the album that I’ve had since 1975). And he says that Horses inspired him to become a songwriter.
So then I’m scrolling through his photos and I see a lot of old Bowie stuff, and I’m thinking we have very similar musical tastes and inspirations.
Then I click on one of his old Bowie photos — Bowie being a man who hugely & continuously inspired me since 1973 — and I discover that the guy in Australia is about 17 years old or something insane like that – still in school – and only found out about Bowie long after Bowie died.
And then that exhausts me, too. WTF? Just how old am I? And how long has Bowie been dead – wasn’t that just last week?! And how come I have similar tastes and inspirations to teenage boys on the other side of the globe?
That shit just makes me collapse.
I was 14 years old when I saw Bowie’s Diamond Dogs tour back in Cleveland. That was over 40 years ago.
Honestly, I don’t give a hoot how old I am, but I just don’t comprehend how old I am. I can’t get an accurate grip on it.
I recently met this 17 year-old boy here in the Hinterlands and he just makes me laugh. I adore him. He’s really delightful. And so unusual and I love his energy. And I love when he comes around. And he knows so many old rock & roll songs that I wouldn’t expect him to know — knows all the words. And he’ll blurt out the most wildly inappropriate and hysterical things.
And I am like – what? Old enough to be his grandmother maybe?! Why the heck do I get along so well with him?
And yet most people my own age… I’m going to be 59 a week from tomorrow. Unless they’re old rockers or old hippies — and that’s the men; the women I have, like, nothing in common with because they are grandmothers.
It’s just weird. I feel like I’m floating off in some strange orbit, all by myself most of the time. (And while I’m off in that strange orbit, more & more & more ideas keep coming to me for projects that require months of getting written down…) (I’m exhausted.)
Anyway. All sorts of amazing good news came in this morning’s email but I can’t discuss that on the blog yet, either. It’s sufficient to say that I am just so blessed, gang. And I was planning to take it a little easy today, but when the email came, I was springing out of my skin. All excited and happy and ready to get back to work on something/anything.
One of these days, though, I’m gonna stay in bed late. And just lie there and stare out the window at my beautiful maple tree and the sky beyond. Just hug my soft fluffy pillows and snuggle there and relax. Really relax. Do nothing. Type nothing, Think nothing new.
Just lie there and smile and imagine what it might feel like if I could train the cats to bring me a cup of coffee…
In the meantime, I hope your Sunday is going swimmingly, wherever you are in the world! I leave you with this. It was an amazing album, gang. Some of it was depressing, but all of it was thrilling, regardless, when I was 14.
All right. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys! See ya!
“Rock ‘N Roll With Me”
You always were the one that knew
They sold us for the likes of you
I always wanted new surroundings
A room to rent while the lizards lay crying in the heat
Trying to remember who to meet
I would take a foxy kind of stand
While tens of thousands found me in demand
When you rock ‘n’ roll with me
No one else I’d rather be
Nobody here can do it for me
I’m in tears again
When you rock ‘n’ roll with me
Gentle hearts are counted down
The queue is out of sight and out of sounds
Me, I’m out of breath, but not quite doubting
I’ve found a door which lets me out!