Hello. And I mean that sincerely.

[fflo]

It's Sunday night.

I should comb out my hair so it'll be more or less dry when I'm ready to lay my head on the ol' pillow (which is about now, to tell you the truth). Thought I'd post something first, though. So hi.

I found out that my silver pattern is called Stradivari. I also found a small card/tag attached to the flyer describing the storage file thingie it's in--- a drawing of a woman with an actual piece of pink feather for a feather in the cap (or is it a boa?), and my mother's name, written by her mother, thereon. Then I found a small card of Xmas bells addressed to my mother and father from "Mother." Pretty sure that's also Bertha, v. Merl. Fountain pen. Used "Nick" for my dad.

All this to say it may not be such an easy thing to do after all.

Started out in the shower singing the spy-and-me lyrics to John Denver's "Annie's Song":

You fill up my senses
Like a mouthful of horseshit
Like the smell of some horseshit
Like the feel of horseshit
Like the sound of some horseshit
As it's hitting the pavement...

Etc. But then next thing I know I'm singing the real words, such as I can remember them. And then, t'boot, as if to say "if I can be THAT sincere, ... ," I find myself conditioning to a straight-faced rendition of "The Rose."

Jonathan Richman likes "The Rose." Once when I saw him he started to sing it and, when the (inevitable) groans started up, he stopped, said something like "Then you don't deserve to hear it," and moved on. Not laughing a bit, or even twinkley-eyeing us. I hadn't been a groaner on that particular occasion, but I could easily have been. There have been times in my life at which it'd have been compulsive.

So I'm all dead-panning, in the shower, and thinking on sincerity, and how it's a reward of age. The ability to let go of multiple levels of ironic awareness and critical thought of critical thought. At least for a few minutes, now and then. And for longer if the circumstances are right.

Then I was thinking about some people I know in their 20s, and one in particular, who is not stupid, and how you can't say "When you act that way, you advertise the very internal agony you're terrified to let out." At least it's advertised it to us old farts.

If any of you have thoughts on sincerity, on taking things seriously, that you'd like to type back at me, that'd be cool.

Comments

[peteralway.livejournal.com]

I couldn't make music publicly until I was over 40. Because I had to be that old to stop worrying about being cool, so that I could be sincere. Only now, having been hammered by two deaths in quick succession have I reached a point where I can, in conversation, without the structure of a song circle, stop and sing a straight song.

Midnight last night, almost 24 hours to the minute before I write this, I found it simple and easy to give a sincere tribute to my brother Dave in front of 20 people with no hint of Irony.

Maybe it *is* age. Maybe it's that kids are cruel to their peers, and hou needed the shield of irony to hide behind, and it takes years to figure out that high school is over, and to the extent that it's not over, it's not your problem if someone else hasn't left it behind.

[fflo.livejournal.com]

these gut-wrenching losses notwithstanding, i was thinking the other day how, using your own accounts as my only input, i perceive so many ways your life, and the quality of your experience of life, seems to have improved dramatically since your marriage ended. harder to see those sometimes, i'm sure, but i wonder whether you can even imagine music taking off in your life anything like the way it has had she not left.

good for you, the other night---no pointless anxiety interfering with your making that tribute.

[peteralway.livejournal.com]

Actually, music was taking off in my life before she left. I sometimes wonder if it contributed to her leaving. She didn't see making music as fun thing to share, but instead as just another "thing that Pete does" that cluttered up the house. The most enthusiastic thing she ever said about it was that "It sounds like actual music," as opposed to just screwing around with instruments or software.

[sprig5.livejournal.com]

it takes years to figure out that high school is over.
--probably the quote of the day. I've been going through a similar realization myself, and you (or you all, or you alls) are helping me articulate it. Thanks.