FIVE THINGS | DAVE BRUBECK, DIVERGENT QUESTIONING, TWO YEAR OLDS, COUNTESS BECCA, MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.

I can enjoy conversations with a wide variety of people, but one thing I don't ever see happening is me getting along with somebody who has anything - and I mean anything - negative to say about Dave Brubeck's 1959 masterpiece Blue Rondo à la Turk. Oftentimes great songs, and especially great jazz, can take repeated listenings to really get into. Not Blue Rondo. Consider rotating into your Sunday morning listening schedule for the rest of your life. You're welcome.

___

I have been processing and cross-pollinating the synthesis of two ideas the last couple weeks. Number one, the idea of framing. The way we choose to frame our approach to a particular situation, decision, or problem. And number two, the idea of divergent questioning; the antithesis of convergent questioning, in which questions are asked that have closed and absolute answers. Divergent questions might be described more simply as open-ended; questions that invite ideas and excitement; that generate possibilities and enthusiasm and snowball into more questions. Divergent questioning also involves giving up a certain amount of ego or expertise and acknowledging that in tackling a particular situation or problem, often the best thing you can do first off is to ask the best question possible...which brings us back to the importance of framing. 

So how do we frame our approach to anything, family or social or work or creative or logistical or whatever, in a way that prioritizes divergent questions and invites ways to solve or approach it that get us excited about tackling it?

Anyway. 

___

Our two-year old. Technically, 27-month old, or 2.25 year old, or 2 1/4, etc. but counting in months starts to get ridiculous after...two. In the last two weeks, it is astounding the leaps he has made. Probably a greater two-week evolution than any period that comes to mind in his lifetime thus far. He is drawing frenetically, frantically, and frequently, and they have started to become recognizably representational; generally as family members or Sesame Street characters. 

And humor, oh thank you, thank you thank you God and universe for helping him to not have a dreadful sense of humor, or to simply lack one period. It appears that he has one that is functioning, as evidenced by his pleasure in adding "poop" to the end (or beginnings) of words and deliberately referring to uncles as "aunties;" something which sends him into hysterical gigglings. 

Sadly, he consistently skips over six and seven when he's counting to ten. Child specialist visits, here we come.*

___

Oh, we're 20 weeks into the new little one coming along. This is what functions as an announcement; buried on this little blog on this little post halfway through. 

I approach big information a little like super rich people approach cell phones: the wealthier you are these days, the more you seem to divorce yourself of functional "necessities" like mobile phones. The more important the information and news we have to share, the less inclined we are to share it to the world en masse. Sometimes scarcity is what makes something special; sometimes that's the very definition.

Silly us. 

___

Becca has been attending a dental convention the past two days. The children and I have embarked on transit adventures throughout Portland during a large chunk of this time, but that is for another time and for when I have the energy to properly highlight and embellish those tales. 

Regarding Becca: I am so proud of the way she approaches these classes. Continuing Education (CE) is required for her field. At some point during the year she needs to get a certain number of credits to keep an active license. Back to that whole idea of framing: there are plenty of people who grumble and groan about having to go through the process every year of attending CE courses.

Not Becca. She is a learner. An educator at heart; someone who actively seeks improved ways of doing her job and broadening the parameters of what it means to serve others in a professional capacity. She has approached her career with both confidence and humility as long as I've known her - which is her entire career. :) Every year it is more amazing to me how she performs work that is physically exhausting and often emotionally draining, yet she consistently frames her experiences with patients in the most positive ways and constantly looks for the good in the people she interacts with. 

She frames her CE required courses as opportunities; as a chance to improve. Instead of coasting, of gliding through and doing the minimum possible, of finding the fastest, easiest classes; of joining the inevitable choruses in any field of grumbling...she has chosen to quietly, confidently, humbly get everything possible out of these courses. Not just attend. Not just listen and take a few notes. Not just sign in to get it over with. 

She goes to these and she comes back with ideas and excitement and is full of enthusiasm about new and fresh ways to be a better hygienist. 

What a wonderful example. She is a living example to me of one of my fave quotes:

“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as a Michaelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, 'Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”

I love that.

I love her.

I love how she illuminates the world around and constantly seeks, quietly and humbly, to improve. 

Thank you. 

*kidding

IN THE COLD DESERT WHILE THEY NAPPED.

Jesus never loved me 

No one ever carried my load.

I was around eight; we lived in a small Oregon coastal town.
Two younger siblings. How young?
Young enough that they were forced to take daily naps.
We lived on a hill.

It was an afternoon, a summer.
Nap for them.
I stepped outside.
Heat heat hot.

I looked around.
No breeze.
Sun slamming down.
A few houses down the road, trees, distant noise from the town's pumping downtown.

But quiet up here.
Just sun. And me.
At forty-one, I have carried that feeling around with me since;
that feeling of solitude and loneliness, popping up intermittently but with regularity.

No one hurt me.
Nothing bad happened
I wondered around, looked around, listened,
desolate, and the sun kept coming.

The world felt still, and quiet, and far away.
I grew up in a world of books, forests, oceans,
and more than that, family and love.
And yet I felt so alone in those moments.

A house away, my siblings slept.
Hot dirty road, flowers drooping,
I gazed around three hundred sixty degrees.
The ocean a short distance away, but not visible. Thanks, development.

Autumn
Winter
Spring
Summer.

I love them all,
but summer is the outlier for me,
which is similar to me,
because I have always felt like an outlier in most communities.

Summer, a season I love,
but grow weary of, and grow lonely with sometimes.
In certain situations.
It's not the heat, or the bright, or any other number of variables.

It's a specific combination of them.
Sun. Flat topography. Dry. Stillness. Quiet.
That feeling brought on by age seven, walking around.
It all comes up.

How can you be lonely when you're lucky enough to have
family,
friends,
community?

How can you feel desolate when you live in the lush and verdant Pacific Northwest,
trees,
rain,
green?

How can you feel alone
when people are close by; physically, emotionally?
There are a lot of answers to that question,
and I don't have good ones, not really.

I know that is a feeling I can conjure up easily,
and I understand how people can feel lonely,
and alone,
when it feels silly that they would or could feel that way.

It's why I ask
"are you okay?"
Instead of waiting for them to tell me
if they're not.

Because it seems ridiculous, petty, arrogant to feel certain emotions;
how can you complain about being hungry when kids are starving across the world and you've got a full fridge?
How can you feel alone when you've got a warm, caring, affectionate, supportive
family, friends, community?

But I get it.
I do.
The feeling of being crushed and trying to take another step,
of feeling you're doing it alone.

You know it's not true.
It's not true.
It's ridiculous.
But it feels that way sometimes.

The aloneness of being surrounded by people.
The loneliness of being engulfed with community.
The desolation of a dusty street on a hot quiet afternoon.
The weariness of dragging your feet forward and wanting to sprint but being too tired anymore.

Kings of Leon, a decade ago,
wrote Cold Desert. Some of it goes:

Jesus never loved me / 

No one ever carried my load.

The Followill brothers, from what I understand, grew up Pentecostal.
That's Christian, I think.
Their religious background comes through in much of their music.
Biblical references, allusions to faith and the contradictory confusing nature of their lives and beliefs.

But to say: Jesus never loved me
Followed by no one ever carried my load...
those are explosive lines for someone whose identity was wrapped up
in God and family.

What does it mean?
I don't know.
I think he may have been super drunk
when he drawled them out.

But I hear them as a question,
a mournful, bottom-of-the-barrel cry
that is pitiful, sad, desperate, lonely, and...
ridiculous?

Does he mean these?
Does he make these statements with lucid sincerity?
Or are they the words of someone whose success is directly influenced by the two things he denies here;
his God's love and his family's support; the systems that propelled he and his two brothers who comprise the Kings to a huge level of success?

I don't know.
I was working until after midnight in my dungeon office, as I frequently do,
and I had Kings of Leon going, with no particular attention paid to this song, until finally it grabbed me,
and then I ran it ten times in a row.

It is so sad.
So mournful.
So full of loneliness.

Yet it also feels cathartic;
like the saving stroke of someone ripping away sadness and draining it for you.
A burden lifted.
Listening over and over, and over, and then again, and once more,
I found a contentment and peace as he mourned in his elegiac howl again and again...

...singing words that he may not have believed,
and may not be true,
but in that moment,
in that time,
in that desert,
they were.

In the hot desert,
the hot, flat, sun soaked, lonely, cold desert.
I feel that feeling and sometimes I wish it would never come back,
but then I wonder,

if I feel it,
if I still feel it sometimes,
can I take that feeling and make something beautiful
and maybe help drain the sadness from someone else?

That is music, the beautiful collision
that strikes us down and lifts us up.
To make something brutal and lovely,
something sad that leaves us better.

That lets us own up to pain, sadness,
depression, loneliness,
however fleeting,
and help release from their spell;

the martyr act of taking upon the sadness of the world in a song
of crying out what is felt, not what is necessarily true,
and finding comfort in a shared solemnity.
Hope in the cold desert,

or as I prefer,

cold mountains.




___





Kings of Leon
Cold Desert
Only By the Night
2008

GSE : The Way Life's Meant to Be.

Life* is filled with a curious and erratic pattern of planning and chaos; the neat coexisting with the messy, and careful strategizing falling prey to unplanned ad hoc opportunities, adventure, and sometimes incidents disguised as setbacks. But amongst the veering from one extreme to another, the question always has to be asked: are you ready to rock & roll through it all? Are you gonna try to have fun? You better. I just added a track to my five-star songs list - it is a short list that gets perhaps a couple fresh additions a year. From the perennially underrated #ElectricLightOrchestra and Jeff Lynne from 1981. "The Way Life's Meant to Be." If you miss George Harrison, just listen to this already. I'm gonna go cry now. The good kind. Rock on, friends. I dedicate this post to three of the finest musicians of our time, Jeff Lynne, @jasonlytle , and @jmlongmusic . Rock well, musicmakers. ____ #elo #44music #jefflynne #greatestsongever #evel0 #forksoverknifes *our life

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Jul 26, 2017 at 7:30pm PDT

RID OF ME / I'LL STAND BY YOU (P.J. HARVEY, THE PRETENDERS).

I ran across an old mix CD I made a decade ago that featured some intriguing sequencing; not least of which was my possibly enlightened choice to place PJ Harvey's Rid of Me directly next to The Pretenders' Stand by You. Gotta say, pretty killer 1-2 punch. Fierce, fierce, and everything in between. I got a thing for fierce-spirited women; I heart rock and roll. ____ #44music #thepretenders #pjharvey #vancouverwa #motorcycles #chrissiehynde

A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Mar 30, 2016 at 8:23am PDT

PJ Harvey
Rid of Me
Rid of Me
2001



the Pretenders
I'll Stand By You
Last of the Independents
1994



ALSO, PATIENCE IS...

...taking two months to finish the last five episodes of the final season of Breaking Bad.

Shhh!

THIS IS TODAY, FREDDIE, AND WE ARE CHAMPIONS.

I have a clear memory of the first Queen song I ever heard. It was - and I'm foggy on which one - either Bicycle Race (thanks John at Cheddar Records, late '80s) or One Vision (thanks Iron Eagle soundtrack, probably purchased at Cheddar Records).

The children have recently discovered the glorious octavic brilliance of Freddie Mercury, and I have tried to embrace that feeling of newness; of trying to imagine I have not, in fact, heard Another One Bites the Dust, or Under Pressure, or We Will Rock You, or I Want to Break Free one hundred billion times (that number is, honestly, an exaggeration by at least half). The point is - and this is a key point in why the idea of childhood is so important throughout your entire life - is that there's always something exuberant to find joy and newness in; consciously searching out fresh lenses and ways of appreciating old things in a new light, in a childlike way, is such a great way to enjoy so many things, from music to relationships to films to ideas, that have become commonplace due to saturation...but it doesn't mean they can't be enjoyed again. In a different way, with a little deliberate effort.

I never thought I would be able to hear the one-two punch of We Will Rock You-seguing into We Are the Champions again without feeling resignation and soul-weariness, after experiencing it over and over and over and over...

But now...looks like I'm entering a fresh Queen era in my life, due to the childrens' enthusiastic repeat playing. So, embracing it. Looks like they will be this year's summer soundtrack for history. Double disc Greatest Hits, then we'll work back to the lesser-known album tracks where there's still a few underplayed jewels hanging out. Rock and roll, today, Freddie. We are the champions, and it's a good day to sing really loud. We have been rocked. Now let's rock.

And your first Queen listening was _______?

Queen
Bicycle Race
Jazz
1978

OSHA READY.

In the furthest recesses of my memory,
I try to recall,
or imagine,
a world in which we had no children to assist with household chores.
But it is too challenging,
and the thought of going back to that world;
a world in which the adults had to do all the work ourselves,
is simply too horrid to dwell on.
Thank goodness for enthusiastic work ethics,
good shop vacs, and extra-safe safety accessories.

PEOPLE > LAWNS.
Do you want to see my really serious expression?
he asked.
Sure.
I said.

And then finish landscaping really quick. Almost there.

The Reader.

AORTA.

I'd like to think I have a decent music sensibility, and a relatively alive cultural awareness, but I also hope I'm the kind of person who never stops getting goosebumps when Phil Collins comes on singing "You'll Be in My Heart."

Jonny Long, I know you know what I mean.

____

Phil Collins

You'll Be in My Heart

Tarzan soundtrack

1999

BIRTHDAY #35 : COUNTESS BECCA

BECCA, PT. I.
One way that I easily remember my wife's birthday every year is that it is exactly one week before Linda Hamillton's (a.k.a. Sarah Connor from The Terminator). Also, her birthday is seven days before mine. Other cinematic heroines that remind me, in specific ways, of her: Amelie from Amelie, Ripley from Aliens, Jamie Lee Curtis from True Lies, Grace Kelly from everything, MacGyver, Frank from Old School, The Bride from Kill Bill, that one French girl from that other Tarantino film, George Michael from Arrested Development, Tina Fey in general, Elastigirl from the Incredibles...a little bit of all the best things in the universe.


Polyphonic Spree's Soldier Girl reminds me of her too.

She makes my head spin around.


Happy birthday, Girl.

____

The Polyphonic Spree
Soldier Girl
The Beginning Stages of...

2002

BECCA, PT. II.

When I was a guest teacher* in Southern California years ago, I was ganged up on by a gang of trying-hard-to-be-gangsters and the room went dark and madness erupted -

- but that is another story. The point is that being a parent with my wife has given her the opportunity to join a gang too. The gang that is our children, and that frequently gangs up on me. She has the opportunity to join that gang frequently and sometimes she does. But sometimes she doesn't, and she is on my side as we battle a seven- and four-year old duo of gangsters, and when she's on my side, it's more even, so I am appreciative for those times when we can gang up on the gang together. We have gone through the fire together - not literally, though I have badly burned my finger before - but rather the fire of parenting (I prefer the other term I coined: childrening, which puts the responsibility and blame where it should be), and it is generally more enjoyable to be on a team with someone who is on your team. Or gang. One example would be how our children inexplicably loathe Leonard Cohen. She could take their side, and curry favor, but she has stood steadfast next to me and blasted Who By Fire next to me as they groaned and grumbled and we laughed as the flames burned around us (that 'through fire' thing, not real fire, otherwise I would have called the firefighting gang). Leonard is such a masterful old poetic gangster, and I'm glad to not be married to him, but rather, to someone who is not like him, but likes him. Respect.

Happy birthday, OG Becca.

____

Leonard Cohen
Who By Fire
New Skin for the Old Ceremony
1974

*a more elegant term the district insisted on calling its substitute teachers




BECCA, PT. III.

Technically, most people don't think of me as a scientist, per se. But ever since my wife gave me one of her old white lab coats, I tend to think of myself as almost one. And in a sense, I am, because I am wearing a lab coat that almost fits, and I truly am interested in quantum mechanics, time travel, reading quotes by Albert Einstein, and watching Fringe. But in my heart, I know that technically I will never be offered a teaching position at MIT. And I think that maybe my wife is resigned to the fact that I'll never be a prize-winning scientist, but - and this is what I love about her - she has never discouraged me from wearing the old lab coat that doesn't fit me very well, because she knows it makes me happy to wear it, and that in a way, it does possibly bring her happiness to feel that she's married to a successful scientist working on the fringes of science, but then we both know at the end of the day I'm not actually a technical scientist: I'm just a mid-sized guy with good posture and poor eyesight who believes that science is real and that space travel is truly possible. She sees that glimmer of possibility in me, that underneath the ill fitting lab coat, there beats the heart of a scientist, if not the brain. And I know that everything is possible.


BECCA, PT. IV.

There's a few regrets I have in life, probably the biggest being that I didn't invest in Apple stock in the early '80s. To be fair, I was five or six years old, but still, no excuses. And sometimes there's partial regrets, like experiencing something really cool, but not having someone with you who you know would really enjoy it, like when I went to see Mercury Rev in L.A. a decade ago and it turned out to be one of my favourite shows ever, or going to see Alt-j last year, and it turned out to be fantastic, and I know Becca would have loved both, but she didn't go because of reasons that are vague to history (Studying? Work? Children?). But she wanted me to go, and she wanted me to have a good time, and she was happy for how much I enjoyed both. So I think what I learned from that is this: try not to ever miss out on anything really cool, and maybe just bring the children too. And also, try to be genuinely happy for other people when good things happen to them. Like she was for me. A good lesson. No more ragrets.

Happy b-day weekend, Countess.

____

Still get goosebumps over Mercury Rev's The Dark Is Rising.

Mercury Rev
The Dark Is Rising
All Is Dream

2001






BECCA, PT. V.

We fell in love at a bakery, at least I did. She worked there; the early morning shift at the small town bakery. I studied at a table with an eyeline to the front counter. I thought I was going to study and get a free bagel once in a while, but then (like I said) I accidentally fell into love so sometimes things happen that you're unaware are happening until afterwards; at which point you have to go back and try to understand history and break things down, like economists do after market crashes retroactively to make themselves sound prescient. Unfortunately, this was pre-smartphone, pre-Instagram, pre-everyone flashing around cameras for no reason so I never usually thought in terms of capturing those early morning bakery rendezvouses. It just exists in our donut-foggy memories. I wish we had one picture of me with my head down studying in the corner, and her behind the counter surreptitiously checking me out. That's a moment I wish we had recorded. Also, I left her a $500* tip once. I've wondered what she did with that. She wore an apron and played good music: Ben Harper, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder. One day I finally said I Like You, but it took me 90 minutes to get through that three-word sentence; maybe it's a plus for me that I'll never have to wonder if that conversation is floating around in a digital cloud somewhere.

I love tracking history with technology and freezing moments for eternity**, but sometimes there's satisfaction in knowing that reality will never collide with our personal mythology & history and that I can keep all the great moments intact with my imagination, unencumbered by the brutality of frozen actuality.

Happy birthday, Barista Becca. I lost my 4.0***, but got some decent coffee and a bride. Wouldn't trade.

____

The Raveonettes
Remember
Chain Gang of Love
2003

*$10

**EMP issues aside

***technically, was already lost. Again though, I prefer the romanticized Faustian notion that I traded my GPA for love.

I NEVER WANNA DIE: Foo Fighters "Walk"

If you have not played the Foo Fighters Walk at maximum volume outside on this beautiful Sunday, then it's hard for me to believe that you are truly taking summer seriously. I still can't hear you...but that may be because my daughter is yelling at me to turn it up. I think that's what she's mouthing anyway. I hope all our neighbors still love us.

Also, you should probably make yourself a milkshake. Happy day, universe.

Foo Fighters
Walk
Wasting Light
2011

RIP CITY VIOLET.

I miss the days when I would wrestle with the children and my wife would be concerned for their safety, as I strategically used my high percentage of muscle fat to gently pin them to the ground until they surrendered and acknowledged my superiority:

"Careful with the kids, Josie!"

Now, it is them she gives the admonishment to, as I am piledrived by at least eight knees and elbows flying at my face from nine feet in the air:

"Careful, kids - he's fragile!"

Which is not entirely true or untrue.

Another thing I miss is seeing the Blazers win. If they can take the intensity with which my children annihilate my body into submission and direct it at the Spurs, then tonight should not be a problem. Victory is assured. Also, my wife has been playing basketball with the children all afternoon, and thus I was excited to join in when I returned.

I was greeted by my wife:

"I am VERY good at basketball,"

as she flippantly tossed the ball toward the hoop six feet away, where she pulled off the stunning feat of missing by approximately seven meters.

I disagreed publicly with this statement, and was assaulted with shouts of: "Mama's a way better basketball player than you, so we're not going to play with you!"

Which made me long for the days when I was better than her at basketball, and better than them at everything. Let's go back to last week, please.

Go Portland.

Also, if they really want to win, they need to be cranking Hole's "Violet" from 1994 in the locker room, which was also a good year.

Hole
Violet
Live Through This
1994

BACK TO ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE FIERY BLOCKROCKIN' BEATS, DUCHESS.

My daughter loves Franz Ferdinand.

For you history buffs who aren't up on the state of early 21st century rock & roll, the Franz Ferdinand I am referring to is the nattily dressed Mercury Prize-winning Scottish dance-punk quartet who has crafted a series of angular pop nuggets over the last decade, the most superlative in my daughter's opinion being "This Fire."

(Not the Archduke Franz whose assassination provided an excuse back in 1914 for a bunch of countries to go to war and fight over a few acres of land)

Nobody in my life currently has made Mae West's timeless truism more true: “Too much of a good thing can be wonderful!”

(see below)



Last year, I bought a mobile speaker system aptly titled "The Blockrocker," which makes it possible to easily play loud music wherever we are at, such as fast food parking lots, skate parks, and tops of mountains. It's Bluetooth-enabled, which basically means it can connect to any wireless device it's paired with, such as a phone, iPod, computer, etc. It has become an essential ingredient in day-to-day living, providing soundtrack on demand.

I'm not particularly concerned with whether our kids are technologically-savvy; those things are kind of inevitable. I'd rather them learn how to track down earthworms, climb trees, and do calculus first. But they pick stuff up fast, like how to snipe music playback devices and figure out how to play the same song over and over and over

and over

and over

and over.

And over, and over again. Like "This Fire." Which really is a fantastic song with an insanely catchy chorus, but the trajectory of my relationship with it has gone from:

Like to Love to Weariness to Total Fatigue to Almost Hate to Acceptance...

...and now I'm almost starting to Like it again, but I'm not sure where things go from here. I do know that my dad - my daughter's grandpa's (Lee Long) single greatest attribute is an ability to take something that's sort of funny, and through brute repetition, force it to be funny over time. Blunt-force repetition is such an underrated aspect of humor. Tell the same C+ joke enough times and it finally gets to funny is a guiding mantra.

This situation is beyond humor. At any given point, Becca or I will hear the familiar opening bars, and soon, two children appearing from the twilight zone with music device in hand, face-busting grins and affected nonchalance as the song plays through for the 87th time that week.

I try so hard to be angry, but sometimes the combination of an overplayed greatest song ever in tandem with the brazen dancestep trickery of a Thomasina Sawyer is too much to keep a straight face. When you can't beat 'em (as in defeat 'em), might as well beat 'em (as in blockrockin' dance moves and chorus song-a-long). Rock on.
____

Franz Ferdinand
This Fire
Franz Ferdinand

2004

SAD VAN FAN.

Over the course of your lives,

(I told the children),

a lot of people are going to give you advice, and you'll hear about many different ways to do things. Sometimes, there's a bunch of good ways to do the same thing.

But sometimes, there's a single solution. And one of the most important things you can ever remember that is that there's only one way to rock.

So that above monologue was my preface to Van Halen. Slammed on the gas, zero to 30 in under 15 seconds, cranked the volume one past Spinal Tap, and we blasted down the autobahn. Or, as the authorities call it, Highway 14.

Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love, Why Can't This Be Love?, So This Is Love?, Love Walks In, When It's Love,

...etcetera

(Hey, they love to love. I love that.)

At the end of my madcap recap of their greatest hits, I looked in the rearview mirror, and I was still the only Van Halen fan.

We continued in silence, but the song in my heart was unstoppable and it skipped a couple beats. Might have even Jumped. We'll try again in a decade.

Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love
1978
Van Halen

Why Can't This Be Love?
1986
5150

So This Is Love?
1981
Fair Warning

Love Walks In
1986
5150

When It's Love
1988
OU812

SELF-DISCOVERY OF THE DAY / CHEERLEADERS.

There is a small handful of longtime music faves that I save for special occasion listening, also known as: listening while driving when the children are not in the car. This shortlist might include my friends in the Wu Tang, and also, I realised as I was following behind a student driver on the highway driving 20 miles under the speed limit, that maybe listening to my favourite instrument-annihilating Texas rockers ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead might not be the most empathy-inducing combination at the moment. Sorry if I tailgated a tiny bit, driver-in-training. 

(I did not honk or do anything mean, aside from maybe thinking some mean things briefly)

If ever a song was meant to be played loud, it is AYWKUBTTOD's chillbump classic Relative Ways. Wow.

Drive safe, everyone. If somebody in front of you is driving really slow, be nice anyway. It might be me. In fact, it probably is.

BOY WITH CHEERLEADERS.

THIS IS SPORT.

...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead
Relative Ways
Source Tags & Codes
2001

TAKE ME AWAY TO THAT SPECIAL PLACE...

...Where I can hear Guns N' Roses Sweet Child O' Mine again for the first time, and listen to it just enough to never grow tired. One of the greatest songs ever, but I don't know if I'll be able to fully appreciate it again, due to oversaturated listening. I'm tired of it. And I don't know if I'll ever feel the magic again. I want to feel the goosebumps on that opening solo one more time. Sad.

See also: Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven. Great song, but...

...what's the difference between those and say...Ben E. King's Stand by Me, or a-ha's Take On Me? Or Arcade Fire's Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) or Liszt's Liebestraum? Music I will never grow weary of.

One of the great things about having children is getting a little of that back -

getting to see others - with no battle-hardened ears or listening fatigue - experience and fall in love with some of those things for the first time.

Others you wish you still loved...but just don't enjoy anymore?

Guns N' Roses

Sweet Child O' Mine

Appetite for Destruction

1987

Ben E. King

Stand by Me

single

1962

a-ha

Take On Me

Hunting High and Low

1985

Arcade Fire

Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)

Funeral

2004

Franz Joseph Liszt

Liebestraum

1850

THE WINNERS TAKE IT ALL, AND KATHERINE HEPBURN IS AWESOME, AND SO ARE STUDENTS WITH GOOD TEACHERS.

I walked past an empty classroom with an open door. Only it wasn't empty. It was filled with a morning blast of ABBA, and a teacher bobbing her head in time to Mamma Mia as she prepped for classes.

I have a rule in life: whenever someone is playing ABBA, I will stop whatever I am doing and go enjoy it for a few moments with that person. I have had some great moments as a result of this rule. So I stopped in and had a delightful five minutes of conversation about classic cinema, Katherine Hepburn and two of her most razor-tongued and entertaining films: Bringing Up Baby and The Lion in Winter. You want to know how to verbally stop someone in their tracks? Ms. Hepburn 101. It all comes back to Katherine.

Step turned to skip as I left. More ABBA, more Hepburns, more loud music, more

teachers who soundtrack a morning with classic Swedish pop. I will let you remain anonymous, Mrs. O.

ABBA
The Winner Takes It All
Super Trouper
1980

NASSIM NICHOLAS TALEB VS. THE BLACK DRAGON.

Driving by PDX airport, Blackalicious's Sky is Falling scoring my commute, watching aeroplanes soar overheard, I had the brief thought that it would be a different kind of world if those aircraft were instead carnivorous birds, intent on hunting down automobiles, unicyclers, and daydreaming footwalkers. It would be a different world, I think, and I think also I would be a hero in that world, mostly due to the fact that I tend to look at the sky a lot.

And really, how can you look up in the sky and NOT believe in intelligent life tucked away amidst the billions of trillions of planets within the zillions of other galaxies. It's not a big stretch to imagine that there could potentially someday appear giant bird-like creatures the size of 747s who feed on combustible engines and the humans inside. Do I occasionally watch a little sci-fi, or as I call it: "creative science"? Emphatic maybe. Because it is about acknowledging possibilities. Imaginative science that subtracts a little conventional wisdom and adds a bit of magic. Or as I call it, "unexplained science."

I was talking to a tiny person* recently about dragons, and they asked me if I thought dragons were real.

I said: "Well, have you ever seen a dragon?"

"No."

"My point exactly," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean," I said, "is that you can't really prove the non-existence of something. Does that make sense?"

"Not really."

I asked: "Okay, have you read Nassim Nicholas Taleb's 'The Black Swan?"

"No."

"Well, there might be parts that are challenging for six-year olds, but essentially the idea is that for a long time, people didn't think there was any such thing as a black swan. But then...a black swan was sighted, thus upending centuries of commonly-accepted truth. Does that make sense?"

"Sort of."

"It's just the simple version. I don't know if Mr. Taleb believes in dragons or not. But all I know is that I've never not seen a dragon, so I'm not satisfied that they don't exist somewhere. What about you?"

"I think they're pretend."

"Maybe they are, but can you prove it?"

"Umm...no."

"My point exactly. Shall we watch some cinema tonight?"

"Yeah!!"

"Okay, how about either Horton Hears a Who or Fight Club?

"What's Fight Club?"

"It addresses themes of consumerism, male angst, and stuff like that. There's no dragons. Maybe it's not a good one for six-year olds, now that I think about it."

"I want to see Fight Club!"

"Nah. How about Horton Hears a Who or Pulp Fiction?"

"What's Pulp Fiction?"

"You know what, let's just go on a walk instead. See if we can spot some dragons, or giant carnivorous birds."

"Nooo! I want to watch some cinema!!"

"Let's just go on a walk. We can chat about antifragility. Sound good?"

"No."

So we went on a walk.**
____

*child.

**and then watched a bit of Horton, which I think was the best choice for six-year olds, although I have frequently wished Horton was a dragon instead of elephant.


***the above is the compositing of two conversations separated by Time, which is a different scientific concept I'd like to address soon and straighten out some misconceptions.


****I blatantly fabricated one quote, but I think it helps the idea be taken more seriously so we'll leave it.

Blackalicious

The Sky is Falling

Blazing Arrow

2002

QUESTION: Cohen vs. Dylan

Leonard Cohen's "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye" (1967)

or

Bob Dylan's "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" (1963)?

(no substitutions, no both)

A jolly Friday morning, all

GREATEST SONG EVER : UNLESS IT'S KICKS (OKKERVIL RIVER).

If you play DJ mixmaster with your breakfast cereal,

If you dig Bob Dylan and Dylan Thomas and Spoon,

If you believe in open windows and loud music in the morning,

If you incessantly tap your foot to an internal rhythm whether there's music going or not,

And if you dream of a universe where Johnny Cash and Social Distortion share a stage with the Old 97s, then

you really oughta take a listen to Okkervil River's Unless It's Kicks,

and after that, listen to everything else they've done. Then, go start your own band.

Toppa Tuesday morning, world.

Okkervil River
Unless It's Kicks
The Stage Names
2007

GREATEST SONG EVER : SWITZERLAND LECHE INN, OR, THE AEROPLANE OVER THE SEA (NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL).

I was first introduced to Neutral Milk Hotel around 1999 in the public library, where its old timey circus-referencing album cover grabbed my attention. Checked it out - FOR FREE, WHICH IS WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU HAVE A SPECIAL VIP CARD AT THE PUBLIC LIBRARY - gave it a listen, and was underwhelmed. Blasé, droning vocals, folksy psychedelic fuzz that seemed dull.

But somehow, it kept magically playing in the background as I drove, and worked, and studied, and I suddenly realised:

Whoa...I really, really dig this album.

Every single track is a tiny treasure, with a breezy, fuzzed-out charm that pulls off the trick of being both A) very concrete and understandable and very ambiguous and cryptic, with vague possible references to Anne Frank woven throughout.

At its heart, whether you are paying attention to lyrics or not, is an incredibly catchy fuzz-pop treasure chest of MUSIC that is a fabulous listen time after time...and it keeps getting better the more you spend time with it.

"What a beautiful face /
I have found in this place /
That is circling all 'round the sun /
What a beautiful dream that could flash on the screen"

My initial dismissal of Neutral Milk Hotel as uninteresting and vapid has been a reference point for me ever since with PEOPLE, and how some of my good friends and many interesting relationships have developed with people I didn't necessarily click with immediately, but discovered over time how massively interesting and unique they are.

There's a place for fleeting, Top 40 friendships that are immediately gratifying but have a point where it's time to move on. Those are fun in little doses.

And there should certainly be a place everyone has for Neutral Milk Hotel relationships, where every interaction keeps uncovering more layers of interest and magic.

So stick on some good tunes today, vote YES anytime a library bond comes up, and remember how many interesting friendships you'll have the opportunity to start this week.

Hoppy Sunday, all :)

Neutral Milk Hotel
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
1998

GREATEST SONG EVER : MY OWN SUMMER (SHOVE IT) (DEFTONES).

I am pleased with being alive, and have a generally positive outlook generously frosted with cheerful skepticism, and I dig the Beach Boys and romantic comedies and get choked up when particularly beautiful rainbows appear in front of my colour-magicked eyes, so that is my preface to stating just how much I love the Deftones once in awhile, like a blistering summer afternoon editing in a quiet room...quiet save for the frantic poetry-screams of Chino Moreno and Sacramento gang. And the ice cube clunks of cold coffee rat-a-tatting duet alongside. Perhaps an interesting juxtaposition. Perhaps not.

Work in a dungeon isn't too bad sometimes.

Hope you are having an enjoyable and refreshing day, friends, family, forest creatures, and unmet strangers in strange lands.

Back to screen. Back to Deftones. Au revoir.

Deftones
My Own Summer (Shove It)
Around the Fur
1997

THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE (MINUTE OF RIGHT NOW : A RHYME FOR MY SON ON HIS THIRD BIRTHDAY).

Today, my son is three.
Soon I will be
a hundred and free.

I said here's what you gotta know:

You always try,
and it's alright to cry.

Looks grow old,
books keep you warm in the cold.

Leopards can change their spots and bears go moo,
check for toilet paper when you enter a loo to go poo.

Be a skeptic, not a cynic,
if you can't think of a word, make one up…like "Ninik."

Climb the stairs in tall towers,
in the sad times, find beautiful flowers.

You're human and the moment is now,
so rejoice that yer not fattened-up Tillamook cow.

Fight for what's right
and be a kind, jolly knight.
Laugh really hard
and avoid pork and lard
and you might live long
with heart in your song.

Dress up, and be a kid,
no matter the age,
you'll be glad you did.

Remember we love you like the fine human you are,
you're a unique little fella, you've set a high bar.

There can be only one.* Of you. 

So always be that. 

You.


Joseph Ivan Long

(a.k.a. your Dad, a.k.a. Highlander McLong).


*strangely, I am not in favor of human cloning

____


I paint objects as I think them, not as I see them.

- Mr. P. Picasso

(I find him a kindred spirit, because my optometrist would likely concur that I am better at thinking than seeing).

Two birds in the distance flyThey land and they settle down,SomewhereA year is just a drop in time

Mercury Rev
A Drop in Time

All Is Dream

2003