We've returned from the madness of Las Vegas construction, traffic, jackpot buzzers, and cigarette smoke [— No offense, Buddha. I'm just saying. —] to land in the middle of an office move. We've landed! Make sure to gather all your belongings. Though the move spans only three floors, transforming our old nine into a new six, it still comes with the usual disarray. I hate disarray. Can anyone tell me where the fax machine is? And when is my wall going to be completed? Is that huge sheet of glass going to drop on my head? Oh, and a door would be nice. Yes, a door. I know, I know. I'm lucky to even have an office. I'm lucky to even have a job.
Anyway. The new coffee tastes very good. We've got our choice of Italian, French, and Columbian. But my doctor says I shouldn't drink coffee. What else? The bathrooms are clean.
Anyway. Those words are a week-old already. These here words are newborns. I found the fax machine, ladies and gentleman, thank you very much. Still no door. One of the challenges of the blog is keeping it fresh. Keeping the passion alive, as it were. Though you know it's never going to be the same as those first early days, when you pushed bodies up against cold brick walls and bit lips and nibbled necks and bled, you may still find ways to, as they say, spice it up a bit. No? You can say:
Let's forget that we're even married and just go out on a date like we used to when we were young! The doctors say that such talk and action promotes relief. You'd never imagine how much relief each partner feels when allowed to just drop everything.
But what am I talking about? Has this thread gone off topic?
Should I move this thread to a new location?
While we were at CES, walking from a shuttle bus to a casino, I asked Jon Iverson, partly because there was nothing else being said and partly because one of their songs was playing in my mind and partly because I just wanted to know:
"Have you heard Silversun Pickups?"
"?"
"Silversun Pickups. I ask because I've got one of their songs stuck in my head. I like them a lot."
"What're they like?"
"They've got acoustic guitars and distorted electric guitars and the guy kinda sounds like Jeremy Enigk, so that's cool."
"Oh, alright. Can you sing a little of it?"
"Doot doo bat da, doot doo bat da, doot doo bat da, doot bat doot bat, doot doo bat da, doot doo bat da, doot doo bat da, doot bat doot bat!"
"Is it classic? Is it going to be around in twenty years?"
"Eh, probably not."
I saw then, and see now, Jon Iverson's point. What's the use of learning something new, taking in more stuff, filling up more space, if it's not going to be around tomorrow? Like technology or love or a shelf on the wall, it may all be gone tomorrow. Or next week. Or next year. So what's the point?
Like everything else, I've written this before. But in a slightly different way. This weekend, as I postponed writing our Recommended Components blurbs because, after all, a guy needs some time to himself, I listened to Silversun Pickups while re-sealing my drafty windows — I know, I know: I'm lucky to even have windows — and I enjoyed it very much (the music, that is — not the re-sealing), and I thought to myself:
If it makes you happy today, then what else matters? What's the point of planning for tomorrow, if tomorrow isn't guaranteed?
And with that, I actually stopped what I was doing — got down from the chair, dropped my plastic wrap, tossed the double-sided tape aside — and danced.
Of course, I'm not always so irresponsible. Now excuse me, please, while I construct Recommended Components.
