Birthday no. 38.
Threw some paint in the wagon.
A speaker and some snacks.
Herbie Hancock,
real cool in the autumn breeze on the old roadside;
found a caterpillar, named him Callie.
Happy born day to me.
Christmas song rehearsal on front porch, Run D.M.C.-influenced.
Their new thing is to invite someone to watch them do something - swing, draw, build a castle, etc. - and then try to extort payment:
"Come watch us do this...oh, by the way, you need to pay us a dollar now."
Brilliant. Oh, and go ahead and stick a fiver in my PayPal account if you just glanced at this picture.
BIRTHDAY #38: 1976 "Get Up Offa That Thing."
I learned to love music early on. Probably in the womb, but honestly I don't remember, so don't spend any more dollars on those Baby Bach records. My dad sang and hummed and ate M&Ms while he was driving, so I learned to associate three good things together: music + food + travel. My mom made me learn music stuff and learn about old composers, and take some lessons on the piano. Thank you, (Kathie Huffman!).
I have a vivid memory of waiting for one of my sibling's lessons and listening to Judas Priest on my headphones, but that's another story. The person I really credit with my entrance to rock and roll is Brant Reed, who loaned me the soundtracks to Batman and Ghostbusters II on cassette. From there, the floodgates were open, especially with Brant's early assistance getting me mix tapes with the Cars, Tom Petty Poison, and other pre-grunge luminaries. A hop and two skips to Weird Al, Def Leppard, Alannah Myles, and the Beastie Boys from there. Off to the races.
Thanks for the music, world. I started today with Mr. Beethoven's Violin Concerto, Opus 16, and then segued to Mr. James Brown's Get Up Offa That Thing (1976).
Mazel tov, all
BIRTHDAY #38: 1977 "Lust for Life"
My brother Joshua, five years younger, used to climb tall trees when he was a little boy, and he was much too young to be climbing tall trees, and he would climb these tall trees anyway and frequently fall from four or five hundred feet up, but he learned an incredible lesson from his climbing and falling experiences. Know what that was?
I'm not sure, but definitely ask him. I know he probably learned something valuable, and he also did what he NEEDED to do when he was a young boy, and he followed the call of the wild and the murmur of his heart and the whispering of the tall trees and HE JUST DID IT. The trees were there, and like Hillary and Norgay he climbed them BECAUSE they were there and he NEEDED to do it and thank goodness he survived.
He had a lust for life; for daring life and for loving life, and - oh my goodness...I just realised this fits in perfectly with one of my top songs from 1977: from everybody's fave perpetually-shirtless rocker Iggy Pop and his classic anthem - yep - Lust for Life.
Attack life, people, but gently and respectfully too, kind of like confidently driving the speed limit in the left hand lane for miles at a stretch. Sometimes you gotta just ignore the honking horns and keep cruising. Unless you're the Passenger and you see a tall tree to climb. Then you gotta pull over and climb it.
Peace, universe. Save forests, climb tall trees, and happy birthday to me.
Iggy Pop
Lust for Life
1977
#38: 1978 "Bicycle Race."
I've been working on an invention that is basically a bicycle, but it only has one wheel, so it's more aerodynamic and stuff. Also, I was talking to my daughter a couple days ago and we were bonding over something (bikes?) and I said to her:
You guys are so fun. You and your brother just help make our lives so great. Your mom and I are just the seventh luckiest parents in the world.
I nodded kindly, and gave her a really strong look of affirmation. She processed for a minute, and looked up.
Well...who are the luckiest parents then?
I shrugged:
I don't know. I'm just guessing there's at least seven parents in the world with better children.
She started shaking her head, and then tried to start talking but couldn't finish because she was laughing so hard. Finally, she got through her sentence.
DADDY! That is so MEAN!
I was laughing too.
I know!
I said.
I know!
We kept on laughing, and she was laughing, and I was laughing. I just love being around people I can banter with, regardless of age. People who laugh hard. People you can share moments with.
Some songs are like that too: shared moments of humanity that make you start singing along or humming or tapping your foot and you feel the earth's joy start to shoot up all around you. Like Queen's Bicycle Race from 1978, with its crazy tempo changes and exhilarating line.
I woulda been two.
Queen
Bicycle Race
1978
Happy week ahead, universe.
