December 1, 2010 – Song 27

I am proud of myself in some nonsense way for having the will power to have left a Fleetwood Mac dance party before it ended. The fact such a thing even exists and that I could walk out of it before it ended well…I guess it just proves I really am an adult now. Adult-ish anyway.

It snowed for the first time on the way home. At least for the first time that I can not deny. It was small, but it was solid. Growing up I was astounded that there was a state called California and that for some god forsaken reason we didn’t live there. My parents love boats for chrissakes. I grew up in a house being constantly taunted by seashells, whales and navy posters. But I get it. I do.

Maybe I come from a long line of forgetters. Without the jarring cold how do you quantify the seasons of your life? I complain about it to no end, don’t get me wrong, but watching everything die and come back again creeps into it. It just does.

But, back to other super important matters, how do you pick your favorite song when stranger just laid so many of them right in your lap?

At first I was going to go with “Everywhere” cause I just freaking felt it this evening. But alas, an old standby stole my heart.

I’ve said it before but this one is about recovery. Is there a really a Velvet Underground song involved or is it just an ode to some magical Santa Fe sunken conversation pit of comfort*? Only Stevie Nicks will ever know. And man does she k n o w.

See you in hell the winter. I’ll survive your ass too. Song 27.

It all comes down to you.

Make a coke joke and I’ll cut a dude. I’m just saying.

*Old enough to go home. But not old enough to just go to bed as it would seem. Damn you the internet.

“Oh boy, I’ve never really spoken about this, so I get verklempt, and then I’ve got the story and I start to screw it up. Okay: In the old …days, before Fleetwood Mac, Lindsey [Buckingham] and I had no money, so we had a king-size mattress, but we just had it on the floor. I had old vintage coverlets on it, and even though we had no money it was still really pretty… Just that and a lamp on the floor, and that was it—there was a certain calmness about it. To this day, when I’m feeling cluttered, I will take my mattress off of my beautiful bed, wherever that may be, and put it outside my bedroom, with a table and a little lamp. That’s the words: ‘So I’m back to the velvet underground’—which is a clothing store in downtown San Francisco, where Janis Joplin got her clothes, and Grace Slick from Jefferson Airplane, it was this little hole in the wall, amazing, beautiful stuff—’back to the floor that I love, to a room with some lace and paper flowers, back to the gypsy that I was.’ So that’s what ‘Gypsy’ means: it’s just a search for before this all happened. And later, I tacked on a line for my friend Robin, my best friend, who died of leukemia: ‘I still see your bright eyes.’ But then, Robin wasn’t sick yet. She got cancer, and died within a year.”

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