(As I write this, the police helicopters are hovering over my neighborhood but mostly all there is out there through my windows is darkness, the observatory barely present in an odd natural mist.)
Tonight was supposed to be a transition time, between a hazy ill-structured work week and a long awaited and over-discussed trip to Las Vegas. It was to be a time for laundry and new cat litter, for cleaning the kitchen and brushing the cats. Instead, I had an existential crisis (lasting 20 minutes or so) followed by a slight awakening and now I'm sleepy and the only planned thing that actually happened was the cat litter.
Maybe if I get up real early...
It happened as I drove west on Hollywood Boulevard from Ralph's on Western, where I bought the litter and a couple of bottles of Gatorade (one G2 and accidentally, one Tiger.) I was headed toward Amoeba Records. I needed new or different music to occupy me during the four-hour drive to Vegas.
I was at a traffic light, confused because I didn't see the reassuring lights of Amoeba and the Arclight movie theater in the distance. Had I gone too far? Was I dreaming? I realized that I was driving in silence. No music, no words from the radio. I never drive in silence. I looked to my right and saw a police car, its two officers just surveying the rather peaceful Hollywood night. I looked to my left and saw a group of joyful teenagers, dressed for the club and laughing. I realized I was more than twice as old as them and that not too far in the future I would be three times as old.
The light turned green. I retreated back into my silent confusion. Where were the buildings I expected to see. When I reached the famous (and, in reality, rather mundane) intersection at Vine, I remembered that of course, I was on Hollywood, not Sunset. Amoeba is on Sunset. Confusion gone, replaced with "what the hell am I doing with my life?" Replaced with "why am I still letting the dishes pile up in the sink, the bills pile up on the kitchen table, and the voicemails that start coming when the bills are unpaid piling up in the ether?" Replaced with "this trip to Vegas will be where I come to grips with it all - the isolation, the family, the disappearing friends. The gambling." Replaced with "I better buy some good music tonight or that desert drive tomorrow will be painful."
I turned left on Cahuenga, bringing back memories of the same left turn 22 summers ago when Patrick and I were killing time on our famous trip to Hollywood. Later that night we would see Stand By Me.
Back in the present, I turned into Amoeba's underground parking lot and entered the store at 10:30, a half hour before closing. I picked up the new Bonnie "Prince" Billy album, Lie Down in the Light. I needed something else, to counteract the (presumed) country sadness of the Bonnie. When I buy two CDs, I usually try to find a contrast, to create bookends. Often this results in a old music/new music dichotomy. Like two weeks ago when I counteracted the (old) Steve Miller Band anthology (dude is a genius!) with the very good but still hard to listen to (new) Spiritualized album.
But is the new Bonnie "Prince" Billy really new? He (Will Oldham) has been around for a decade and a half. If I was 20, I'd think he was old. And really, if I'm going for a dichotomy, wouldn't anything work? Wouldn't any artist - other than say, Eitzel - be enough of a contrast from the dark royalty of Oldham?
(Yes, if you've noticed that I'm spending much more time discussing my musical purchases than I am talking about the reasons for my existential dilemma, you've got my essential shortcoming figured out.)
Then I saw it! Though I knew it was coming I had forgotten about its existence. The remastered reissue of Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville. I always listen to Liz on long drives and my CD of Guyville had mysteriously disappeared sometime in 2007. Yes, I was paying 16 bucks for something I'd listened to countless times before. But it has three bonus tracks and a Phair-produced documentary DVD so yeah I bought it and I drove home with two CDs containing 30 or so songs by two geniuses who have accompanied me musically through most of my adulthood.
Now, nearing 1:00AM, I'm looking forward to the drive tomorrow. Judging from the first few songs, Lie Down in the Light may just be the surprisingly jaunty and inspirational kick I need. And Exile in Guyville is one of the five greatest records of all time. And Car Talk comes on at 10:00. In no time, I'll be in Las Vegas, cheering on Karen as she represents "The Group" at the World Series of Poker and hanging out with a group of pretty cool people who I've never socialized with "in public" before, our only shared common space being various poker tables in various apartments and houses. Then, on Sunday, my mother (coincidentally) arrives and that'll probably just lead to angst but maybe there's hope.
When I'm driving home on Monday, I'll either be a changed man or I'll still miss out on seeing whatever that thing is fronr of my eyes that I need to see. Either way, I hope you keep reading.
(Such a long post but no mention yet of the NBA draft - my team drafting the best player my employer ever produced and then trading him for a guy from the dreaded rival school, the school that didn't give me a job back in '04- where will my loyalties lie? Am I filled with regret or does any of it really matter? Probably doesn't matter. Go Wolves.)
No comments:
Post a Comment