I heard the news today, oh boy.

Today I'm wearing shorts. I'm usually the last person to wear shorts, but I often get excited at the beginning of spring/summer. Then by July I'm sporting black jeans.

I don't like the warm weather right now. I mean, I love how wonderful the sun feels on my body and how great everything smells and the general feeling of relaxation and fun that comes with summer. But right now I'm feeling too overwhelmed with weird nostalgia. And re-living past summers. I was sad a lot of last summer, so now the memory of sadness is being brought up. Or past fabulous summers living in Evanston and hanging out late in the evening with a bunch of fun-loving queers or – and it makes me sad that I don't see these people anymore.

I get this way about twice year, when the seasons REALLY change. Spring and fall can be such nebulous times, especially in Chicago. But when it first gets really cold or really hot and I know winter or summer is near, that's when I become overwhelmed. Because then I finally realize time is slipping through my fingers and passing at an astonishing rate. (Then of course I come to work and listen to 'The Drive' on the radio and it's playing stuff like Beatles' A Day In The Life and Joe Cocker and Chicago and other favorites in the 'lite classic rock' genre.)

But nowadays I'm trying to have a more daily understanding of the transitory nature of things. And not holding onto anything too tightly, since nothing is truly static, least of all myself. I don't want to be scared of the memories – it's okay to sink back and re-live experiences temporarily for the sheer joy. But I should also wake up to what's around me, which may prevent me from feeling nostalgic later. I can't help but think nostalgia is some weird extension of regret – regret that things didn't get lived fully and completely, so we look back over-fondly in an attempt to still squeeze something out of the experience.

( despite being recently turned off by experiences with ‘buddhists' )

who you gonna call?

Before I being this post, I'd like to point out that two of my LJ friends, limenal and stuey who are not on each other's friends list, both posted Carpenters' related entries within 10 minutes of each other (accounting for time zone differences). Tres bizarre.

Last night I was listening to one of the albums from my recent acquisition -- Ray Parker, Jr. 's Greatest Hits. And no, the song Ghostbusters isn't on it because this album came out in 1983. Yes, he had quite the fruitful career and is far from a novelty act. I found out a while back about his success as Raydio (and even remember a few of their hits), and I learned recently that he actually toured with Stevie Wonder, playing guitar, practically as a teenager. I think I might call a track on my first album Raydio, as a sort of pun on myself and also a homage, because it really breaks my heart what happened to him. He's a talented musician and had written songs for New Edition and Barry White and Deniece Williams all sorts of other folks that were good but he's known almost solely as the Ghostbusters guy. The whole reason he got chosen to write the score/song was because of his prior musical history, experience, talent. Poor guy.

And today while standing at the binding machine, maliciously ripping out the plastic binders from the 30 copies of the amicus brief that the court of appeals denied, I was remembering the episode of Gimme A Break where Ray Parker, Jr. guest stars. I believe he got into a car accident with Nell. (I think this was before Theo hit Stevie Wonder's limo on the Cosby Show? I can't remember now.) Do sitcoms still have celebrity walk-ons? Not like Ally McBeal, where they play characters, but script where they play themselves, capitalizing on the current spike in popularity? Poor Nell Carter probably thought she was doing her friend a favor by attempting to educate the audience on his full biography, but I don't think it took. He was still just the Ghostbusters guy.

Perhaps that's part of the appeal of remaining solely underground and critically-acclaimed, instead of momentarily, instantaneously popular. Because then you become the "I'm Too Sexy" guy or "Torn" girl (not that either one of those examples are exactly underground or even talented.) I guess I could be like the "Locomotion" girl who then become the "La La" girl. I guess given a preference, I'd like to be David Hasselhoff-famous (musically speaking) -- popular in a specific market far away. It's enough to pay the bills and stroke the ego, but it definitely keeps you hustling and not becoming too big for your britches, as my grandmother would say