Shh – don’t say anything. This is where I’m at today: old Pixies cds (my gawd – I owned them on cassette once, a mix from a friend, handed to me lovingly with Sonic Youth on the flip side) and restless. I was eighteen in 1989, and Steve’s apartment looked out over a busy Cincinnati one-way near campus. The Burwood building. Duttenhoffer’s Map Shop. I hear it isn’t even there anymore.

Truth be told, I think it finally hit me that I’m going to be forty next month, and I might just be a little tipped sidewise about it (as well as kind of ashamed to admit that).

I’m not nostalgic on the surface – really, I’m not. I’m not a packrat, I don’t hang on to many souvenirs, I have a woefully small box of photographs that I keep. I’m pretty good at turning the page and moving on, in general, really. But it’s  moods that keep me – I’m triggered up by smells, by lighting, by atmosphere. Transported, even.

Last week or the week before, on the Pixies website they were offering a free 4-song live sampler if you signed up for their email list. So I did, but I only got around to opening up the download this morning. Well.

Cue up the wee beginning of grunge rock and the surprise of Ohio turning out to be way cooler than I thought it would be. The music was really good. Bright autumn woke me up, made me adventuresome. I picked a lot of directions, and some of them became projects. I learned. So. Much.

Restless this morning and nothing for it. Maybe it’s in the air – that and the little free mix colluded to make me springy. Maybe it’s that I’m starting to feel a little better finally, after being sick for a week and allergic for a month before that, I don’t know. I put on my headphones and walked for twenty minutes, listening to Surfer Rosa and just smelling the air. Stark truth: at eighteen I felt far more invincible than I do now, and I miss that.

The Pixies brought me to the cusp of twenty – grunge rock, fronting indie bands, my first real, all-week, weekday jobs, recording studios and bars, all the tragic hookups you can expect with that combination,  and something a little mysterious around the edges. I’ve managed to retain the mystery, for the most part. My life has gotten more stable, for sure. And I’ve gotten interesting in quieter ways. I’ve spent my thirties building that stability, and for the most part, it’s paid off – as far as any Sagittarius with rising Aquarius can muster, anyway. Which is to say, you know, thank gawd for Will being a rock solid Capricorn.

But I’m wondering what’s coming up in my headlights for forty. I don’t have any trends that I can mark strongly. I don’t have a lot that I really want, as far as material stuff. I’d like to become stronger physically, I know that. I’d like to learn how to meditate, maybe.

I learned in my twenties to listen to music for the production. So much time spent in the studio, I couldn’t help but develop an understanding of the context of drums and bass; even if I never mastered the execution of production, I have a pretty good understanding of what’s happening. Call it an appreciation?

Lately I’m listening to this cd that Skipper Jane gave me and I lost for a while. The production is stellar – lots and lots of layers, clarity and depth of sound. Huge production*. Delicious. Here – have some yum.

*Blame my father for my love of big production. Meatloaf played a lot in our house when I was growing up. Oh, Jim Steinman, you devil, you.

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