I’ve tried this blogging thing a few times and a few ways, each with the best intentions. But they never seemed to go anywhere. I lacked focus, clarity and drive. Something happened a couple of months ago. I thought maybe the gears in my head were just spinning in place. I had felt this way for several months– they weren’t connecting, just spinning and spinning independently. I popped the hood on my skull and I took the whole apparatus out. I found that they were not spinning in place but had, in fact, ground to a halt. They weren’t so much worn down as they were overgrown with the moss of disuse. I immersed my gearbox in a gentle solvent and was patient. After a few weeks, it looked ready.
The gears don’t sparkle as they did when new. But they’ve got a nice patina you can’t buy in a can. I placed the assemblage back in my cranium, closed the skull, and gave the starter a firm crank. It sputtered and wheezed its objection. I whispered blasphemous words of encouragement and gave it a more forceful crank. This time, it coughed and seemed to shake itself, sighing a reluctant “I’m up, I’m up.” The gears settled into a reassuring harmonious whir. I sat down and asked it where to start.
“Music,” it said. “You start with music.” For me, all things start with music. I don’t know why, and lately, I’ve shunned it like a past lover I’m embarrassed to have been with. At first, I thought this was a demon I needed to face, beat down, and bathe in its blood. So I sought the demon. But try as I might, I couldn’t find it. It wasn’t hiding from me. There was never a demon to begin with. Music hadn’t turned on me. I had turned on music. And for that, I am sorry.
So we start here, with a song that’s been stuck in my head since I heard Henry Rollins play it a few weeks ago on KCRW. The band is Soccer Team and the song is “Traffic Patterns” from their album, “Volunteered” Civility and Professionalism, which is available on the venerable Dischord label. It’s not an “official” video, but I like it and it suits the song well. Kudos to whoever made it. The toy Prius blowing up at the end never fails to put a smile on my mug.
I have found my focus. And though I have always lacked clarity, I am hopeful it will give me room to roam and indulge in other proclivities. I have found my drive, though it is only in first gear. And with that, we begin. Again.