Tuesday, January 29, 2019
Crosby, Stills, Nash and Reed
A few nights ago I dreamed that Crosby, Stills and Nash, and possibly Young, were visiting me. I lived in a sunny place in a gigantic beige stucco building with a parking lot, like the Eagles' Hotel California. I bought some new clothes to fit in better with the band -- mustard-colored pants and a long tunic shirt with a pattern of intersecting circles in green, red, yellow and orange. I wore little round purple John Lennon glasses. I was vaguely aware that I looked ridiculous because C,S,N and possibly Y were not dressed like that at all. But I felt so groovy.
At one point I saw the band slouching around on the lawn but I didn't interact with them. They were just hanging out, looking vaguely as they did on the cover of their first album. I thought, "Stephen Stills looks so young!" Because of course, in my dream, I was seeing them all as if it were 1969.
Stephen Stills, in fact, is 74 years old now. David Crosby is 77! And who ever thought that would happen?
How is it that I have entered a world where all my musical idols are senior citizens? Joan Baez is 78. Joni Mitchell is 75. Paul McCartney is 76. Melanie is a relatively youthful 71. It's shocking, honestly -- not that there's anything wrong with being a senior citizen, but these were all the rebellious youth, right?
Anyway, I have no idea what any of this means, except that deep in my head I'm still living in the past, and I'm continually surprised by the present.
The loveseat did disappear from the sidewalk yesterday morning, not long after we put it out. I assume the council collected it as promised. It's nice to have that gone -- and now the living room seems so spacious. A little too spacious, maybe. Weirdly spacious.
Dave thinks his cold is on the mend, thank goodness. He's going to work today after taking yesterday off. He went to the doctor but she said it was a virus and she couldn't really do anything -- still, she praised him for coming in, because he's on medication that suppresses his immune system (for the Crohn's) and they have to keep an eye on that kind of thing. I haven't contracted the cold, knock on wood. I thought I might be getting it yesterday, because I had a headache when I woke up, but in retrospect that could have been the wine I consumed at Cirque du Soleil the night before.
We're getting some arctic weather -- supposedly a low of 28º F tomorrow -- and possibly some snow tonight. (I know that's nothing compared to what's happening in parts of North America.) I'm trying to decide whether to muscle that fig tree into the garden shed. Ugh. I don't think it would die if we left it out, but I'm not sure I want to risk it.
(Photo: Yesterday on my walk to work.)