SNOW DAY, YEAR, AND LIFE

It's a snow day here in Colorado. Everything is shut down or slowed down and all of it is different. We can't navigate our lives as easily. Some of us are sleeping in. Some of us are up but don't know what to do with ourselves. Of course, there are always a few who pretend it's just another day, and trudge along through the drifts as if they don't exist. I watch them from my window and can't decide if they are crazy or stupid or from another planet. When I let my dog out back this morning, he made it all of three feet out before giving up.

It's a snow day. It's been a snow day for over a year, hasn't it?

And what made this one feel just like the past year is that somehow I didn't texted by my school to tell me it was closed today, so I got up at 6 am as usual, put on the coffee, put the dog out, listened to the morning flash briefing on my Alexa, and fully woke up. I think sometimes, when you wake up, you have this little window of time when you can decide to go back to sleep and you do, no harm no foul. But for me, once I've actually made a full French press of coffee, heard the weather report, and read at least part of an article on the NY Times app, there is no going back to sleep. So here I am. My wife and I work at the same school, and when I brought up the coffee, she was still sleeping. I nudged her awake, she told me to look at her phone. And there was the text she had gotten over an hour before, saying our school was closed today. Somehow, this miscommunication from a usually reliable source seems to fit in with the world we have been living in for over a year.

It's a snow year. But at least it does feel like the ice is melting, the Spring is coming, and things are getting better, albeit at a glacial pace. Gone is the sense of dread every time I see a headline that has the words "the White House" in them. It is of course still awful. Over 500,000 dead in America alone. Over 2.4 million worldwide. Or, to let the numbers look accurate, 2,400,000. I can't really wrap my head around numbers that large. I try to imagine how many people that is, how to make the number real. And I can't. It's like contemplating infinity. It just makes no sense to me. 

So I'm still in my PJs, drinking coffee, listening to a little classical mix in the den, shaking the cobwebs from my head as best I can, and wondering what comes next. I've got some writing to catch up on, a few screenplays and a new musical. I have a call I have to make about the sale of my mom's house out in California. And there are always plenty of projects to do around the house. But there are also tons of shows I've been wandering through on all those damn streaming services. Doom Patrol. WandaVision. Modern Family. Derry Girls. Not to mention my ever growing stack of books, some half read, some untouched. It's like the house is full of items and ideas in semi-suspended animation. 

Looks like we got over eight inches last night. I drove down from the mountains, where we were having a socially distanced rehearsal for a high school musical. The road was very twisty, covered in ice and snow, and it was coming down so hard and fast that it looked like when they go to hyper space in Star Wars. What usually takes half and hour took over an hour and a half. My car is a little Hyundai. No AWD or 4WD. The car slid more than once. And I passed several accidents. It was a little nerve wracking. But I made it. 

Maybe that's the metaphor I'm looking for this morning in regards to the snow and this past year. It's been terrifying, tedious, and frustrating, but for those of us still alive, we made it. We're tired, unsure of what today will bring, and in need of coffee. But we made it. 

Yay.

Here's a song. It's Snow Days, by Trip Shakespeare. Enjoy.

DFWTNOM IS COMING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

It's Monday morning, cold as can be here in Denver, like in the teens cold, and I've already taken a long walk, made a post office run, and now am back in the joyously heated house, listening to the first stab at a podcast I am working on with my friend Craig Nobbs tentatively titled DFWTNOM. 

I talk a lot. 

The format we are going for is a back and forth conversation between two friends who are both writers discussing current events, projects, shows we like, and so on. I think it works for our particular personalities, and am excited about where it will go. But as I listen to myself, I am astounded at how much I can go on about things. And how poor a listener I can be. No doubt part of this is due to me wanting to do well, to cover my half of the lifting for the podcast, to come off as someone worth listening to for a half hour or so.

But holy shit, do I go on. 

Part of that is good, I think. I have a rather stream-of-consciousness approach to life, and to conversation, and I think/hope that gives what I say a veracity and specificity. But at the same time, I think maybe I could and should edit myself a bit more. 

So look for DFWTNOM wherever you download podcasts soon.

Also, the Super Bowl kind of sucked.

I think it is so long and so bloated and so desperate to feel like it used to but hasn't in a long time. Each year, the half time show seems to get longer and more convoluted. More determined to be that much bigger than the previous year. Each year, the commercials get a little more obnoxious. Not that there weren't some cool things, some moments that really were entertaining and possibly up lifting. But a lot of it felt tired. 

And I think we have all felt tired enough of late.

Maybe my priorities have just changed from the last year. Maybe I don't really cared as much about the NFL as I used to. Maybe I am hungry for more satisfying material.

I've started watching more movies again. This past week end I watch The Trial of the Chicago 7 and also Ma Rainey's Black Bottom.

Both films were awesome, exciting, thought provoking, emotionally fulfilling, and cool. They fed my soul, and I dug that.

More soul food, less junk food please. More stories that help me interact with the world, less stories that are designed to placate me. 

More.

Here's a song. It's Talk, Talk, by Talk Talk. Enjoy. And don't forget: DFWTNOM.

WAITING FOR THE LET GO ON THE RAZOR'S EDGE

And just like that, the first Friday of February 2021 is here. I keep writing 2020 on things. This happens every year around this time, but I seem to be doing it a little more. I think we are all still trying to shake off the past year. And with good reason. What a long, strange, scary, bizarre, year. And did I mention long? Sometimes I forget that Trump is no longer President. Not for very long, just a moment or two. It just seemed like we were going to be stuck with his madness forever and ever. Happily, this is not the case. 

I think we've all gotten used to Covid world. To social distancing and masks and thousands dead every day. Which freaks me out a little. Every day, around three thousand Americans die. And thousands more across the globe pass. All from Covid. And this has become routine. We barely blink an eye. Just another day. It's like a curse and a blessing at the same time. Horrific that we can put up with and endure these times. Heroic that we can keep going at times like these. It makes me think of that line about how life is like a razor's edge we walk upon. I used to find that saying kind of lame. Like "yeah, there's good and bad in the world. I get it. Move on." 

That was long ago, when I was young and stupid. Before life began it's ritual of kicking the shit out of me on a regular basis with just enough variation in its timing that every new tragedy is a surprise, something unexpected that drops out of the blue like a dinosaur killing meteor. 

Maybe we don't balance on that razor's edge. Maybe we can't fall to one side or the other. Maybe we endure because we are just built that way. Maybe we have to see the good and bad, the wondrous and the woeful in equal measure, because that is simply the world we live in. Sure, we can try to pretend it's all great, or all gross. But I think most of us know that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. 

It is still an incredible universe.

There is music, and laughter, and tears of joy, rage, and. sorrow that give us comfort. 

There is love. And that makes all the difference.

I was teaching a short unit on Shakespeare this past week. We went over all the plays and what the basic plots were. Revenge came up a lot. And the class, middle schoolers, got into a conversation about revenge, if it is a good idea, if it ever really brings satisfaction or joy. It certainly doesn't in Shakespeare. And I've never had a time where carrying a grudge, seeking retribution, getting even, ever worked out well. 

Maybe it does for some folks. I've just never seen that. I've seen anger twist people's souls, filling them with toxins that cloud their judgement and seem to make them miserable and lonely. Seen plenty of that. 

Not that I think we should let those who are acting cruelly or with malice or doing something that hurts others or themselves continue with those destructive ways.

We just need to let go of anger and resentment. Process it, acknowledge it, and move on. 

That's been the only thing that works for me. Forgive, accept, move on. 

Right now, there are a lot of people in this country who are, I believe, behaving badly. I would like them to stop. I don't let them do so when I'm around, if I can help it. I don't wish them ill. I don't want them to be miserable or kicked in the nuts or ridiculed. I want them to stop hurting my friends, families, and themselves. I want them to let go of what seems like a lot of anger and grief and fear. 

If they can't, we need to deal with them clearly, strongly, and without malice. 

Easy to say, hard to do. I often post about the morons, the whackos, the greedy and the willfully ignorant. I probably shouldn't. It prolongs the anger I feel. That is one of my many faults. But I do try and let it go before I go to sleep. I try to treat others with respect while at the same time calling out lies and madness. 

It's rough. A razor's edge. 

Here's a song. It's Waiting for the Let Go by Elle King. Enjoy. 

THE YEAR OF THINKING MAGICALLY

It was Groundhog Day yesterday. I am told it was snowing a lot in Pennsylvania where Punxsutawney Phil does his thing. I always thought it was some remnant from native culture, but according the to internet, which these days doesn't mean a lot, it is an old Christian thing from Germany. Which is kind of weird. Predicting weather from animals just seems so pagan to me. So fun. I don't associate a lot of fun pastimes with ancient Christianity during the Dark Ages.

But I digress.

It was snowing. Hard. And as such, the big rodent stayed in its hole, signifying more winter. Or maybe more social distancing. Or more crazy folks saying there are Jewish space lasers starting forest fires. 

Any and all of those sound about right to me.

But I am a semi-magic thinker. I believe in Bigfoot and UFOs and ghosts. 

Don't get me wrong. I also dig science, know the world is a globe, and am certain there is no cabal of Satan worshipping baby killing elites out there.

When magical thinking goes becomes a format for justifying your world views, its time to give it up. Any belief system that ignores the clear reasons for things like economic inequality and points folks towards made up Boogie Men and Boogie Women is, it seems to me, obvious manipulations of the masses for political gain. 

And that sucks.

Magic thinking should be something fun to do when you're out in the woods and think you heard a Sasquatch, not a reason to storm the Capitol and kill someone with a fire extinguisher.

I wonder if those folks who think there are devil worshipping baby eaters are just finding a way to redirect their unexpressed and sublimated empathy for all the suffering children in the world who are actually in distress due to policies and corporations they have endorsed and supported? 

I hope so. I would humanize them a bit.

So yeah, I believe there will be more of this Winter of Our Discontent. 

But it will pass. I think this summer will be glorious. I think most of us have had enough of the fear and loathing and anger and dismay that have run rampant across the globe. We may have to hunker down for six more weeks. We may have to endure more feckless memes about Sleepy Joe and the Squad and who knows what else. We will probably have to read more about Bobert and Greene and the Orange One himself. 

But I think something has changed inside of us this winter. I think our souls have been tempered and strengthened. 

What has changed will reveal itself in good time.

I can't wait.

Until then, I will be in my own little hole with Phil, Sasquatch, Yeti, and Nessie.

Here's a song. It's Office of Love by Caamp. (yes, it's spelled with two "a"s. And it's groovy)