Three (Old) Songs for a Friday

*Note: This Friday's set of songs go out to my pops, who had a pile of dusty tapes in his red truck when I was growing up. They were well worn, and smelled like plastic and dirt. The constancy and repetition of albums like America's Greatest Hits, Abbey Road, Deja Vu, and Sunshine Superman, while at the time made me loopy, directly influenced the way I listen to music, and the way I now recognize what I like and what I don't like. I can hear my dad singing these songs loudly and playing guitar on the steering wheel or piano on the dashboard, all the while telling me to shift into 4th gear for him.

Both of these songs have particular sentimental value to me, mostly because they were the songs on repeat during my youth. Whenever I hear them, I can almost smell the fresh summery smells of mulch, Old Spice, and dust jumping up from the dash.

Sunshine Superman // Donovan

Rocky Raccoon // The Beatles

A Horse With No Name // America

Nimble Air

When spring came, after the hard winter, one could not get enough of the nimble air. Every morning I wakened with a fresh consciousness that winter was over. There were none of the signs of spring for which I used to watch in Virginia, no budding woods or blooming gardens. There was only - spring itself; the throb of it, the light restlessness, the vital essence of it everywhere: in the sky, in the swift clouds, in the pale sunshine, and in the warm, high wind - rising suddenly, sinking suddenly, impulsive and playful like a big puppy that pawed you and then lay down to be petted. If I had been tossed down blindfolded on that red prairie, I should have known that it was spring.

- Willa Cather, My Antonia

I took a long bike ride through Prospect Park today, the sun beating down my throat as I looked up at it, mouth agape, and glinting off my handlebars. I felt the same wistfulness and emotional swell that Jim describes here. Spring makes us instantly alive, young, and agile.

Two Songs for a Friday

Your Hand in Mine // Explosions in the Sky

This song, and this band, are somehow more uplifting to me than any other. There is a peaceful intensity to the music that hits me in all of my positive emotional corners. It reminds me of how it feels when you're sitting in an airplane, seat belt fastened, tray tables in their upright and locked position, electronic devices off, and all of a sudden, you begin to rise.

When Your Mind's Made Up // Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova

A powerful song from a movie overflowing with decisions and indecisions. A series of moments during which one choice or another changes the path of everything that will ever happen. It matters not whether these changes are positive or negative, it just matters that they happen. Faced with some decisions regarding location and life change, I am hoping that my mind is made up soon, and that path I follow will be full of long piano outros and unbroken vacuum cleaners.

WEST in FEBRUARY : Vegas and the Last Leg

It seems as though Hannah and I have been channeling Hemingway, Kerouac, and Hunter S. throughout the majority of this trip. It was good to have a peaceful lunch with Grandper and Li in La Quinta. A little walk through their new home, lunch at the country club, and a debriefing on my life. I tried to help them understand that my life is legitimate, that I'm going to be okay, that my choices are solid and measured. Grandpa loved talking to Hannah, she loved listening to Li, and I was happy to eat a dank club sandwich. We had tea and Li's world famous cookies back at the house and Grandpa and I talked about Weston, "how tall is he?!?" and I showed him a video of Jackson, "How does that get to your phone?!?" I have a lovely mental picture of him standing in his sunny driveway, waving.

Our trip to Vegas was uneventful, I drove well until we spoke on the bluetooth phone thingydoo and I had to exit and stalled on an uphill. If heard by any religious entity, I'm sure my swearing would have sent me straight to hell. We came in with low expectation and left feeling nauseated and sad for humanity. After a few slots and a few drinks at MGM Grand and a couple too many death stares from a woman in a club, we resorted to fried chicken and pizza with some Saturday Night Live on the side in our hotel room. The Mariott (found on Priceline - the best discovery of the entire trip!) did give us the most comfortable bed I'd slept in for the last 8 nights.

On our final leg we tried to play all the best music from our travels : Mumford & Sons, the XX, Florence + the Machine, The National... I won't be able to listen to much else for a while, and I'll always think of towering redwoods and a thrashing blue Pacific when I do.

Two Songs for a Friday

I Was Young When I Left Home // Antony + Bryce Dessner

Not only do I need to call out to this lovely mix of tunes that you should all know about and download legally, but I also must call out to the fact that this is by far the best Dylan cover of all time. As most songs do, I wrestle with introspection with this song... thinking of my own leave taking, thinking of my own youth when that occurred, and remembering how and why that happened. With my home so abrasively and abruptly in the news as of late, my thoughts are there more and more consistently. There is always a back and forth when thinking about home, whether or not to be there or to make a home out in the wind.

Escape // Rupert Holmes

This one goes out to my good friends, Lindsay and Brandt Foster, who are drinking Pina Coladas in the warm Florida rain. We all like making love at midnight and planning our escapes, and the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne... so I hope they enjoy it for all of us. A beautiful couple in a beautiful place...

WEST in FEBRUARY : Los Angeles

Big Sur was extremely difficult to leave - its a quiet slice of heaven in the form of an Irish-looking coast. I drove the first length down to LA - smiling at my improvement with the stick - I made it through a number of winding constructions zones along the side of the mountains, almost falling into the sea. I even parked and reversed. Then I had a panic attack in San Luis Orozco and Hannah took over. Tyler was welcoming and happy as always, his apartment full of Wisconsin, beer, and cow paraphernalia. Weronika, who hadn't met him yet, took to him nicely. Though, as it seems, she does with everyone. I like that about her. We ate sushi and I tried to stay awake and social - which proved difficult with a girl named Grace who I sat across the table with. She had absolutely nothing to say and even less emotion to go with it. I hit my point in the trip that night, when I knew that some serious Lisa time was in order.

Woke up the next morning and ran through Tyler's manicured, green, and flat neighborhood and picked up some apples at a gas station. We had brunch at a 50's diner and talked about the situation in Wisconsin and in Libya because dad called with much to say about how our "MyFace" generation can help. The 826 Time Travel Mart was impressive and wonderful - the people were extremely friendly, and even let me go to the bathroom. I love this club I'm in... Then to the famous Amoeba Music just down the street to where the red carpet was being rolled out, the flashbulbs shined, and the whitestrips were being applied to teeth.

Sub City

A beautiful video that almost made me cry...

Sub City New York from sarah klein on Vimeo.

WEST in FEBRUARY : Big Sur

The drive down to Big Sur was one of the more beautiful drives I've ever experienced. Once we hit the ocean I couldn't keep my face off the window. We stopped at a California State Beach, touched the water with our toes, and did cartwheels in the sand. Hannah's been driving because neither Weronika or I are very skilled at the ol' manual driving game. A sunset and some giggly texts and calls to our respective vicarious followers brought us to the edge of paradise, with greens and blues that could kill. Our exclamations ricocheted between the closed windows so much that we had to open them, to let them out into the sea air. "Where is the road? Where is the sky?!?" Hannah yelled over the music at one point. We were turned away from two different establishments, most likely for our ramshackle appearances, but finally found room at an inn called Pinewood. A hike up to Buzzard's Roost left us breathless and happy. Redwoods, vast Pacificness, reciting "HOWL" at the top of our lungs, and naps in the sun.

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies!

gone down the American river!

Dreams! adorations! illumnations! religions!

the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifictions!

gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs!

Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation!

down on the rocks of Time!

-A. Ginsberg

Our second night in Big Sur brought embarrassed cheeks and barefoot walks across parking lots. We followed a guy who seemed to know the town well, to a ramshackle bar with musicians and a Foosball table. A metal, pierced guy was playing guitar so I joined him - he tried to teach me bar chords and I retreated to playing Wagon Wheel while the girls sang along.

Two Songs for a Friday

You've Got the Love // Florence + the Machine

This one goes out to Hannah, who drove 3,000 + miles through snow and sand, over mountain and bridge with me, with all futures, pasts, and inhibitions thrown to the wind. We realized after the first few minutes that sometimes you just have to throw your hands up in the air, dance while you're sitting in a car, thrashing your hair with the music.

Transatlanticism // Death Cab for Cutie

Death Cab's debut on the Friday songlist! We sing this song across oceans and state borders and mountain ranges and phone lines. If you need someone so much closer, then I suggest ... come on!

WEST in FEBRUARY : San Francisco

The ladies we'll be staying with in Palo Alto are super nice, all doctors, all cute and trendy. Meghan is an artist at heart, it shows on the pieces that flood her walls. Casey lives in Anchorage, Alaska, and it took her a whole day of zig-zaggy travel to get here. Weronika, who practices in Memphis, walked up to me and hugged me as though we were already best friends, and it seemed to happen even quicker than that. She would be joining Hannah and I from here to Big Sur and Los Angeles, and I think we lucked out. She has so much jazz inside her it's bursting from her enormous peacock tattoo. I talked to Weston when we arrived and didn't tell him that I would be sending him a postcard from every city I stop in. I'm headed in to San Francisco now finally, on the Caltrain to meet Connor and Anders for dinner and drinks. Cannot wait to be in the city, but it's nice to have this quiet moment to breathe, listen to Ray, and stare out the window.

Connor made a delicious butterfly chicken with potatoes and carrots and Anders made an olive tampenade. I drank Sierra Nevadas at the kitchen table and kept the conversation going. Connor critiqued me as I washed the dishes, and I realized that some friendships never change. We took a shot of whiskey and went out in Lower Haight. We walked past a girl climbing out of a taxi with her friend and she could not walk - and it wasn't just because of her 6 inch heels. She had obviously had 18x the amount of whiskey that I had. I walked her towards the motel that her friend seemed to be headed towards, and she stopped to hold onto a car in the parking lot, and proceeded to urinate like a racehorse, right down on the pavement, standing up, and a good portion of it got on my shoe. I finally got her over to the door where her friend stood, and was offered $20 for my trouble. I should have taken it, if only to get my shoes cleaned. I fell asleep in a vent-induced-memory haze.

In the morning we walked to California Street down Clement, passed Asian grocery stories and I bought two fish for Mary Beth and David. I hugged them very hard because I was late and hopped on the California 1. A drive with Mary Beth to Sausalito over the coolest bridge on the planet - goosebumps galore, and brunch at the restaurant we always eat at overlooking the bay with its sailboats and it's sunny sea air. I decided I'd buy one of the houses on the hill here when I finally write the next Great American Novel. I told Mary Beth everything about my life between bites of eggs Benedict, and she said she has a good feeling about it all. I do too. Then we stopped at the Pirate Supply Store which greatly exceeded my expectations. I wanted to stay forever - and MB was proud to know me. I feel like part of a community with 826 and I think I might have to always live in a city that has one. Or open one wherever I go. Bought messages in a bottle and postcards from the Mighty Pacific and Pine Needle Scurvy Tea.

The Bubble Lounge was closed but that brought me to the best bar I've ever been to : Vesuvio. Squished right next to City Lights Bookstore, it had the perfect atmosphere, the perfect crowd, the perfect music - CCR and CSNY and all that jazz. I felt like there were conversations in this bar that would make things happen in the world. Kerouac drank here. Vonnegut drank here. I drank here.

Lucy and I met at City Lights and I bought a postcard. We ate at her favorite Chinese restaurant in North Beach, and a Chinese New Year parade came in - dragon, fireworks and all, and we sipped flower tea and caught up on the last 6 years of our lives. I had forgotten how much I like her. I had forgotten how much we have in common. Free spirits just like our parents. Artists, thinkers. Hannah told me that she thought that even if we weren't step-sisters, Lucy and I would definitely be good friends. She walked me down to the wharf after we said hi to Mossimo the cat - her read hair flowing under her black stocking cap. She's gorgeous, and so easy to talk to.

WEST in FEBRUARY : SLC - SF

Hannah and I did a running start hug in the Salt Lake City airport. "Wanna have a drink?' I had a wheat beer brewed in Utah called Epic, and we met up with Hannah's doctor buddy Rory, the Irish-Canadian sprightly man who taught me about "coding." (Pronouncing someone dead). Her apartment felt empty and quiet without boy and dog - their ghosts were still there, lingering. His shirts still in the closet, the dogs' hair still floating around on the wood floor. She woke up early for work, I slept comfortably with the humidifier humming next to me, happy to catch up on sleep.

Rory picked me up and took me to Lucky 13, a Harley-esque burger joint with amazing garlic fries and spicy mayo. We drank beers with another doctor, Lee, who seemed a bit down on the state of his life. He had just worked a 30 hour rotation. Ouch. Then Rory took me to the Mormon Disneyland - the towering scary temple and the tabernacle choir and a high rise that gave us an incredible view of the city - as an old woman with a mouth like Nonny's told us about the LDS church. Apparently you have to be "worthy" to be married in the church. You can't drink coffee or alcohol or smoke. You have to go through countless interviews to get in. No thanks!

The road trip had been uneventful up until Wendover, where we stopped for snacks at Smith's Supermarket full of freak shows, and said goodbye to the Utah border. As I was pulling out my notebook to write this, Hannah non-chalantly said, "we're getting pulled over." Of course I geeked out laughing because what else can you do? The officer appeared next to me, shining his flashlight at our laughing faces. He pulled Hannah out of the car and interrogated her to see if she had drugs, money or (me) in the vehicle. She laughed the whole way through. He was baffled by the idea of two Wisconsin girls in Nevada going to California. Believe it, son!

I didn't expect snow. I didn't expect white as I approached the California border (which I got us to after almost smashing the Jetta because of my poor stick handling). But alas, I found out that this is where Tahoe is, and there is snow. Lots of it. The Sierra Nevadas, like the beer. Yeah. The man at the road side convenient store told us that we wouldn't get through the pass without chains, so we went to my favorite place to stop while on a road trip : Walmart. I cringed at the bright lights and the low prices as Hannah calmed her dad down on the phone. We ended up staying the night right where we were, just outside of our destination state, in Reno, Nevada : Vegas' bastard son. A Motel 6 to be exact, the flashing neon lights blinking in our window. We woke up early and took showers with towels on the shower floor so we wouldn't get athletes foot. We successfully put the chains on the tires (yeah bitches!) and made our way through Donner Pass. California finally turned green and the rain fell as the silence did on us. We had made it.

WEST in FEBRUARY : Getting There

The Airtrain gave me a bit of a scare, after making me feel lucky and tricking me into thinking everything was starting off to a great start when the man hawking MTA cards told me it was free... but that meant I had to take the shuttle. A salt-and-pepper goateed man in a sweater vest sat next to a wiry, frustrated woman carrying a computer box, a few random bags, and a rolly suitcase. Their knees were shaking next to mine. They were stressed. Really stressed. The woman turned to me and told me her flight was at 1:25 and asked when was mine? "Same," I said, holding the left earbud of my headphones. I was listening to Bella Donna by the Avett Brothers, which seems to calm me down. Her piercing, blinking blue eyes screamed "help me!" and I tried to calm her down, telling her I do this all the time, assuring her that I'm always this late, and always make it. I feel weird telling people who are obviously older than me to chill out. Haven't they learned this in their many years of life? Haven't they figured out that everything is going to be just fine? I ran ahead of her because I knew we actually were cutting it close - and I wasn't about to wait and see if this woman made it. I gave the security guard my puppy dog eyes and he let me ahead of the other people in line for the shoes-off jackets-off dance. So here I was, plopped down in Row 6 of that bird, behind a screaming baby.

In Long Beach, my layover haven, the bar is exploding with people - misfits of all shapes and sizes. People drinking slowly and alone. People pretending they have things to do on their cell phones, or that they are extremely interested in what is happening in the Bulls - Sonics game, even though they are from Pittsburgh. I sidle up for a painfully expensive glass of pinot grigio, just to see what kind of conversation I could strike up. A man with a bright red beard who looked like Dave Camin sat to my right - he was the one I wanted stories from - he made a few witty comments into his pint glass and onto the screen of his solitaire game. An obese man next to me laughed when I peshaw'd my glass of wine, and then of course we all got into it about the Packers and Brett Favre. I like how easily people can talk to one another. Brian (fatty on my left) suggested I go and figure out my genealogy while in Salt Lake City - apparently those Mormons are very good at it. He used to be in business in Phili but then retired and started flying planes. I told him how cool I thought that was and I think he got pretty puffed up about that.

The man next to me on my 1.5 hour flight from Long Beach to Salt Lake City was out cold the minute he fastened his seat belt. He must have had a long week, or year, or he had taken a sleeping pill. I felt like I could have hugged the guy and he would have kept on snoring. I almost did, just to see what would happen. I smiled at his serenity, plugged in my earbuds, and settled into a Savage Love podcast. After a while, the flight attendant came around asking which delicious snack we each wanted. I always feel like I'm back in elementary school when this happens - just a bunch of people seated in quiet rows, staring straight ahead and being asked questions. But instead of "who was the first person to discover the Hudson river?" it becomes, "Would you like crunchies, munchies, cashews or cookies?" We're always excited to answer, always eager for our turn.

Turns out a dad sitting in the row in front of me was very eager for his turn. Or eager for something at least, but I'm still trying to figure out what. I remember being annoyed with him from the get-go. His two sons were strapped in beside him, futzing with the arm-rest remote controls. They had both cleverly selected Adult Swim and dad noticed right away. "Are you sure you should be watching that??" -I don't know, it's funny.- "Would your mom want you to watch that?? If I had headphones on to watch it would you feel comfortable with that?? What's it like in comparison to the Simpsons??" -It's better.- They went on forever so I droned it out and day dreamed about the tactics I would use to scare my kids out of ever becoming mature adults. How could I push them as far away as possible? Then the flight attendant came around with the snacks and I learned another way from daddio in the row in front of me. The guy had settled into a movie called The Fantastic Four while his two sons giggled to themselves as Meatwad mumbled words like "shit" and "sex." He neglected to take his headphones off as he answered the snack question. "COOKIES? SUNCHIPS? CASHEW NUTS? WHADDAYA WANT BOYS? THEY'VE GOT ALL SORTS OF THINGS!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. I swear to Jebus, the dead-asleep man next to me twitched immediately awake. He blinked into the dark abyss of the otherwise silent cabin, and must have been in somewhat of a fever dream because I think within this abrupt wake up call he began to perspire from the forehead. "WELL, MAKE A DECISION BOYS. WHAT'LL IT BE??" He was completely oblivious to the fact that his Fantastic Four headphones were still strapped to his scull and also that there were other human beings within 100 yards of him and his gaping mouth. His children finally selected the cookies and so did he, commenting on how great they were, until they were depleted from the bag, and until we were all thoroughly awake.