Every now and then, coming down off a sugar-induced buzz of a can of Grands cinnamon rolls and instant cappuccino from Hills Bros., all sorts of random stuff float through my mind. I keep imaging thatI am a captain who resembles Les Claypool on a clipper ship 'Sailing the Seas of Cheese'.
This is one of those moments. If I have to look over any more of my nephews' work ... wait, wait, can't go there. Of course I am. I am sitting here living thru junior year of high school. Good times!! I would not be surprised to have firmed up my decision to go to the service about now ... couldn't have been. But it was near, that is sure.
Could talk about the knockout that Randall Bailey scored a month or so ago over Frankie Rodriguez. Now, why would you THINK I am anywhere near tired of watching it? There was this club fighter, a cat named Jesse James Hughes from Alabama, fighting at 147. White kid, who fought several up and coming kids, who had a better pedigree and skills. But what they didn't have, the 'je ne sais quois' to their skill set, he did.
Fights were eerily similar, as he would get out boxed and fall behind, but in the 7th or 8th round, he would have tired his opponent out, and BAM! He'd lay them out. I liked how he operated.
BUT OF COURSE ...
... this isn't that entry. But man, that Bailey fight was awesome! The commentators called it perfectly, and if you followed along, you too, could see how the knockout developed.
Been taking breaks between 'homework' and popping out on here. There are a few folks out here that talk about the relationship aspects of their lives. As dreary as days were after Tee Jay, and trying to wait out My Delta Girl, I kept shrugging my shoulders and keeping on with the keep on.
The difference I feel between the two biggest loves of my life, is not perspective, but time. When I was younger, there was a little bit more arrogance to me. I didn't stop being in love with her, but like Gangstarr, I was so, 'Ex Girl to the Next Girl'. Tee Jay, with her uniqueness, and all that she brought to my experience, left a bigger mark on me.
I'd listen to this song, over and over. Partly because it was on several of my mix tapes that I would listen to when I was doing my roadwork. It did occur to me to record over them, but then the tapes would have be out of sync, and I would have to do the all over again. Anywho, I liked Interpol before this started to hurt, and wasn't going to stop diggin' them now that the music was sorta filling a spot.
The song isn't drenched in emotion. I think that it is the ultimate 'oh, it is IS like that' kind of song. Why else would anyone be surprised that 'you'd come around'. And I am sure that the implication that someone would be there when the other is down, is clear. But for me ...
EH, NOT SO MUCH
When the cat is 'coming around', I have to ask 'why' is he still coming around? Now, if I was doing my roadwork and paths crossed that connected us, that would be different. Some how we are in the same spot, a movie theatre say. The Star Theatre's at Southfield and Fairlane are distinct possibilities. And still, it would require a 'perfect storm' of coincidences for that to happen, that would lead to absolutely nothing.
For me, it is hard to care about someone who has by action indicated that they have moved on. I look at her initial response to my being back in town the same way that an art collector may look at a particular piece of art in their gallery. A classic car collector who passes by their 'bitchin' Camaro' from 1979. Fond memories may be stirred, but in no way are they indicative of what is to come. Between gas prices and the environmental harm, could you drive it in good conscious? And Renaissance art my be out of style, anyway!
I had always thought of trying to win back a former 'someone special' much like Mark Twain thought of golf as 'a good walk spoiled.' When I do go somewhere, I want to enjoy the ambiance of the moment. And this is where the challenge lies for me. What is there to miss about someone, who again, has indicated thru actions what value you have in their life? I mean, I much rather would have wanted to dine at Meriweather's up Telegraph than the 'Mongolian Barbecue'. We weren't on the same wavelegnth, and I don't know if I want to try to find her frequency ... as I am sure she is less than thrilled at having to find my frequency (or should I have said -ies, because I have more than a few!!).
Well, let me get back to my 'homework'. Sometimes finding the right frequency is a matter of 'Direction'.