It’s another relentlessly beautiful day in the desert. The assorted cacti are putting on their flowers. Some people say the bloom is early this year (especially the saguaros) but I can’t speak to that.
I’m listening to a lot of music lately. Full records are so nice for thinking. I find I can sort of track the time I am spending on things by how many albums go by. How much TIME the work is taking to pin down is astonishing. I don’t resent it, it’s really well-spent. But I am dazed by the sheer number of hours…I thought I would be completely finished by now, but as with the first book, the ideas are bigger than the pages, and they have to fit. It’s like making a reduction sauce, drawing conclusions, or compressing mathematics; it pays to take care.
All I can do is breathe, and keep going. And be grateful, because the work is good, people are patient (but only because they know the work is good) and I feel that I’m working at potential.
Those last seven words don’t really jump off of the page, I know, but for me, there is a universe of feeling behind them.
The season change, from winter into spring, is good timing for my work.
When it’s summer, I remember more fully who I am. Mental lizards and psychological bears, they stretch and wake somewhere deep inside me, and wander out, blinking. Suddenly I have more facts, a longer perspective.
Some things feel natural right now. Some definitely don’t.
Each day into the warm season sharpens my awareness and my capability; as happens every time winter is shaken off, kicked aside like a leather shackle I finally chewed off of my leg.
I feel like a person who has been taken off of a drug. The days are longer; this changes everything.
So into another beautiful day I slide, mostly willing, in front of this giant pile of work. Rewards will include a play with Bri, and dinner downtown.
And of course, it goes without saying, A SWIM. The water was 66F yesterday afternoon. Cold, still, but the warmest yet.
My friend Patty sent me a hilarious article from Buzzfeed on the situation with Tim Lincecum, who is fighting the hot with all his might. I agree with the whole white panel van situation… this is disturbing. I can’t EVEN COPE with the concept (much less the photographic evidence of) Bryan Ferry’s mustache, which he had for about five minutes several decades ago. This is a similar situation.
“Timmy, why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?”
SAB: …. This mustache might as well be a face tattoo of him giving the finger to anyone even thinking about writing something moving about his season. This is the mustache of a guy who wants people to look away from his face and pay attention to someone else while he gets his groove back away from the spotlight. I don’t know if it will actually work, but I respect the IDGAFness of the whole thing.
LA: Maybe that theory is why I hate it. I have written my fair share of sappy blog posts about Timmy and what his career means to ME. I shelled out the money for good seats for what we thought would be his last start as a Giant. Our fan base is very emotionally invested in Timmy, who has never been one to pitch with a poker face. I should probably throw in a personal disclaimer and admit that my “type” is very much long-haired, lanky dudes, so I feel personally slighted by his deviation from his classic look.