And now you find yourself in '82

There's not a specific memory tied to this. Like the too-many notes in the song, there's a tumble of images, sounds, smells. The dank lockers, the rusty corners, the glub-lb-lub-lb sounds when underwater, the smack of a back flopping off the board, the screams, just general screams of delight edged with terror from the deep end, and the specific shouts MARCO POLO POLO POLO AAAAAIIIIEEEE, my eyes burning as the shadows deepened, the dense grass squeaking under my bare feet while crossing to the snack bar, the feel of wringing out a sopping towel, the tautness of sun-dried skin, wrinkled finger/toe pads re-wetted, a whistle on a lanyard whipped one way, then the other, around the lifeguard's finger, all of my own freckles, the worry someone noticed you farted in the water, the sun boring into my skin, shoulders, neck and scalp, the parts most often out of the water, then my hair and suit dried by the air across my aunt's red MG, because the top was down, always down, but my eyes didn't dry because they were behind glasses and trying to keep seeing what I saw all summer at the pool.

You are the light.

I've become sort of obsessed with this 1977 live/studio hybrid album from Santana, Moonflower. It's a cornucopia of what made pre-"Smooth" Santana great, including his cover of the Zombies' "She's Not There," a live version of "Black Magic Woman," and a veritable shit-ton of timbales. And Carlos' outsized solos grinding to almost-ear-splitting peaks.

This track brought me to the album -- well, good ol' Internet radio did, actually, as usual.



This one--the whole album, really--fit with the lower-angled, late summer light of the afternoon. I washed a formidable stack of dishes, swept and mopped, too, probably, while listening to this album, windows wide open. The house smells a certain way when it's a certain temperature, and feels a certain way when the sun is where it is. The homeness of home is verdant in those moments.

I catalogued this with the lifetime of other of sublime late afternoon sun-angle smells and feelings I've collected.

Touching the hearts of those who feel

I miss it already.

For the world will soon be waking

Basking in Macca afterglow today, this track from his modest 1980 McCartney II struck me whilst pecking away at very the usual negligible affair of bossing people around through emails.

Was it the inspiration for another honeyed meditation on a summer day? I  mean, it's the first thing I thought of upon seeing the song title.



And, of course, it's timely. I look out the window and see white pleasure boats dotting the blue lake, a soft breeze, rain-fed leaves.

Since I'm still in that afterglow, I'll pose a hopeless wish for a obscurities- and deep cuts-only live show from Sir Paul, such as this or this, or even this (it isn't silly at all).

Woke up and thought "This ain't exactly heaven"

This is a commemorative recommitment post. I will post. I will, I will! It's summer, after all, and if I have to sit at this screened box all day weekdays, when I am not gazing out of the window at the beckoning brightness, I should be rooting around in here.

I don't know why, but I woke up today determined to listen to The Specials. Being part of a super-nichey movement back when niches didn't really exist (at least not the way they do now) didn't preclude their political stance, one that's genuine despite the jump-up-and-down-at-the-party sound.

Ska just sounds like fun unlimited to me, at least.

So that's probably why I want to hear some, as midsummer peaks and more fun is on the horizon (or should be).

Soulflower take me flying with you

Somehow--convenience or environment--I navigated to this on a short afternoon trip outside today, a puffy-clouded stunner. Now I know that this counts among my must-play start-of-summer-songs, the ones you play when the whole summer--and its possibilities--lay out before you like a lawn so fresh and warm it sparkles.You know it will be good, because it is inherently good, if only in the depth and amount of time, daylight time, it gives us--and you hope it will be better even beyond that wide-sky truth.



I think puff means something else here, but roll with it, roll with it.

Black-Eyed Susan dancing in the breeze

August.

The weather is sweet.

Just move at this speed today. You'll be fine.

Warm summer breeze blows endlessly

Please don't pull me out this is how I would want to go

I start every summer by listening to this. Well, since about 1989ish.

Today's Shuffle II: We, the Synthesis of Then and Now

See, this played when I was walking through the snow, still resting, opaque and fragile, on all the branches.



And it's entirely sampled from Kool & the Gang's "Summer Madness," which has got to be in my soon-to-be-playable vinyl collection.


Go ahead. Listen to all nine minutes. It's January 12, and you're welcome.





See?