May 10, 2003

Florida 2003 Soundtrack

“ I've been on the losing end of distance / A little too far to be close . . . ”

All very predictable, if you know me, but fun nonetheless.

Thursday, May 1: Chuck Mangione’s “Bellavia” and “Doing Everything With You.”

Friday, May 2 through Sunday (afternoon), May 4: Silence, like Dante meeting God.

“

But as my sight by seeing learned to see,
The transformation which in me took place
Transformed the single changeless form for me. . . .

How weak are words, and how unfit to frame
My concept—which lags after what was shown
So far, ’twould flatter it to call lame! . . .

So strove I with that wonder—how to fit
The image to the sphere; so sought to see
How it maintained the point of rest in it.

Thither my own wings could not carry me,
But that a flash my understanding clove,
Whence its desire came to it suddenly.

High phantasy lost power and here broke off;
Yet, as a wheel moves smoothly, free from jars,
My will and my desire were turned by love,

The love that moves the sun and the other stars.

”

OK, if I have to pick, maybe Led Zeppelin’s “Friends” or Toad’s “Eyes Open Wide” Nah. Silence is better, even than Zep this time.

Sunday, May 4 (evening): Coldplay’s “Trouble.” Also, David gave me some new jazz, most loungy and acidy. I’ve only listened to select bits so far, but it went down well with the beer and pizza.

Monday, May 5: Donald Fagen’s “Walk between the Raindrops.” Also, Monday night would have to be the Police’s “The Bed’s too Big without You.” Though I don’t have a copy of this song with me, I was whistling it all evening and on into Tuesday. It has a reggae feel to it, like much of the Police’s early stuff. Must be something about the atmosphere.

Wednesday, May 7—on a morning drive into Tampa: Coldplay’s “Shiver.” Totally inappropriate, prompting laughs and ridicule. Form the moment I wake, to the moment I sleep, I’ll be there by your side. Just you try and stop me. BANG! Magnum. Thanks, granddad.

Thursday, May 8: The Samples’ “Losing End of Distance.” Running this morning in the strong Florida sun, I thought of my departure tomorrow. Seeming to sense this, my iPod chose an appropriate song. Perhaps a bit more maudlin and 18-year-old-romantic (or is that the 16-year-old inside me?) to be an accurate expression of my feelings, but the imagery is cool: From the bottom of the oceans, to the mountains of the moon. The song has a reggae syncopated upbeat that unpredictably mixes well with the subject of loss, as if hope exists in the looking.

As soon as I stopped my run and decided to walk a bit more on the beach, DMB’s “Crash” began on the iPod. I feel the waves come crash into me. The confusion of passion and violence also seemed awkwardly apropos for this morning’s beach walk. Plenty of water and wave imagery mixed with my increasing realization of all good things. . . .

Friday, May 9: Counting Crows’ “Miami.” The bus is running / It’s time to leave / This summer’s gone / And so are we / So come on baby, / Let’s go shut it down in New Orleans.