As much as I want to be immersed in book-writing, music keeps finding it’s way to being at the center of my life. In new ways, like you may have just watched in the above video. I didn’t fully realize what I was getting myself into when I signed on to be musical director and on-stage band member for a professional musical. I think I thought: “oh, Go-Go’s songs, I know how to do that.” I saw “Head Over Heels” on Broadway a couple of times in 2018, so the recollection of all that the band contributed had faded. As soon as I started diving into this job, after the fun LA trip—I had a minor stress meltdown. That was dispensed with quickly by cancelling any trips or travel this summer.
It’s hard, but I thrive on challenges that are attainable through work and focus. The band I’ve hired—they haven’t announced yet, so I won’t—but hint, hint, I am very familiar with these musicians—we are all putting in tons of hours and having fun with it. There are key changes, modulations, highly arranged mash-ups with bits of other songs, odd rhythmic stops and starts. Playing this music in this way isn’t intuitive, but if you could see our faces when we nail 30 seconds of weird underscore—pure triumph. I couldn’t be more proud of us, and I’m also really proud of this musical, once again. It’s clever, funny, entertaining, and the music is fabulous. I can’t wait to get into the rehearsals with the cast. A lot of what we play is cued by actor performances and dialog, so it’s not easy to practice without that.
June has given me, so far, fleeting days of disquiet and discomfort. There are reasons for this; I’m aware of the source. A laundry list of whys and whats, from adjusting to an empty nest again, to the abrupt switch in where I thought I’d be this month, to reflecting on the weeks before my mom’s death last June.
It took decades of life-living before my self-knowledge absorbed the critical realization that I don’t make seamless transitions. When I was a drinker, a masker of pain, a stuffer of sadness, I prided myself on being strong, handling anything and everything that came at me. Like driving a high performance, road-hugging sports car, shifting gears smoothly and effortlessly through a course of hills and hair-pin turns. The actuality is that I can barely drive a stick in real life. When I hit a Change Bump™© I tend to stall out and sit helplessly on the side of the road watching everyone else know where they’re going and making tracks to get there.
I have plenty to do. I could get up at dawn and go non-stop ‘til bedtime and still not make much of a dent in the heap of projects, chores, tasks, jobs, un-finished and un-started business that a creative, hustling life engenders. Just to add a dash of anxiety, accomplishing some of these things could possibly, maybe, lead to some much-needed paying jobs. Adding to the mess is the hyper-awareness that the swirling vortex of privilege and paralysis I wake up to is a far better world than many people exist in.
So I’m trying; treading water, feeling immensely proud if I get myself to an Orange Theory or spin class or Ladybird Lake walk—just a little bit of self-care because I’m all I’ve got. And I’m surprised again at how recognizing and embracing my own frailty helps me to be gentler with myself. It’s great to see less of my inner drill sergeant—my personal Sergeant Carter if you like—(those of you of a certain age will remember him.) He’s a relentless meanie and only shuts up if I excel, produce, achieve….if I do something.
Most of the time my house is quiet, too quiet. I hear nothing but the tinnitus ringing in my ears. I mainly play music when I’m going out, or when I have people over, or if I hear about a new record. Today I was blasting my pal Alicia Bognanno’s new Bully record “Lucky For You” , just recently released and it’s really, really great. Here’s one of my faves, “Days Move Slow.”
I know people who always have background sound going; tv, radio, podcasts. I prefer silence to that, even with tinnitus. I drive in silence. TV is a social activity for me, and podcasts make me sleepy. Silence pushes me to work more; ironically, not listening to much music has helped me create more music. But I think I miss out on a lot too—creativity feeds on other people’s art. The muses love to visit when I’m enjoying what other people have made. Listening to “Lucky For You” has inspired me to carve out some time to finish “Hurry” —the song I wrote right here in front of you guys. I’ll make that the next priority and we can close that one out and move on.
Thank you for taking the time to open, read, engage or comment as you like, and most importantly, for your paid or free subscription. I hope the “Direction of Motion” adds a few minutes of enjoyment to your day. I wish I could say I just whisk these things off, but that’s not how it is—each dispatch takes a couple of days to write and revise so I appreciate SO MUCH that it’s not going into a void!
Look for the next one around the 17th or 18th! xxK
24) Time Fillers and Change Bumps™©