my dilemna

My dilemma tonight is the same as it most nights when I go to sit down to write. Or at least it has been since about November 10, 2008. As most of you know, I am writing a book, and a lot of the book features the music of Van Morrison, and about 95 percent of that is the music of Van Morrison live.

Right now I am writing a chapter about Astral Weeks - the music, the concerts, the songs, and my appreciation of it. I am a creature of habit...whatever I'm doing before I decide to take a few hours this night and write, when I'm done whatever that is, I put some music on, open the window and go out to my front porch to sit for awhile and gather my thoughts. Mostly I try to make those thoughts be thoughts about what I'm about to write -- rather than let them drift to how beautiful the night is or, as happens a lot lately, new ideas and schemes I am hatching up for the makeover I am doing of my backyard. Usually, the music coming through the window is germane to whatever I'm writing about...if I'm writing about a show in 1995, then I'll be listening to that music.

And that's the dilemma. If I'm writing about Astral Weeks, then what's coming through that window is Astral Weeks. Caledonia music. It's meant to inspire me to thought. But, you know, I get so lost in the music every time I listen to it out on the porch, and I am useless for thought. My brain goes on vacation, because try as I might to tell it to think, my brain knows best - Astral Weeks is not a thinking piece, it's something else.

Somewhere in that something else is the story I want to tell about Astral Weeks. But darned if I can think of what it is. It's like trying to describe "nothing" -- words just don't do the concept justice. Maybe under the chapter for Astral Weeks Live, I should just put "No Comment."

Just kidding. I already have a couple of thousand words written, so I'm not going to scrap those in favor of a no comment. Trouble is, I don't think I've even got to the part in the story where Van comes on stage to regale us with the world premiere of Astral Weeks Live. It's like I am afraid to talk about it, like I'll get burned if I touch it (talk about hyperbole! what it really is, is a difficult challenge and, as usual, I'm hoping for an easy fix -- otherwise known as writer's cramp). I'll get over it. It's eight songs, for crying out loud. What could be so hard about eight songs?

It's almost Independence Day, so three guesses what's on the player.

Van's Almost Independence Day.

Earlier this evening I was sitting on the porch, enjoying the nighttime air, listening to the fireworks - because here, in monsoon country, it's an overcast night, so not much in the way of lights to see. But the sound comes in good with all that low cloud cover. It was the fireworks that reminded me that tomorrow's Independence Day is the first one my children and I will be celebrating as American citizens. We are Canadians in exile. We'll always be Canadians (born on Canadian soil, no matter what your sins, you are always a Canadian). But we are Americans too.

And while it wasn't listed on the citizenship test they give you as one of the three benefits of being a citizen, I've found the best thing about being an American is now I can complain as much as I want about what I think is wrong about this country. As a Canadian, I somehow felt it wasn't my place; it's not like I voted for these rascals. I'll save that for another day, though; for tonight, almost Independence Day, I celebrate living in a free country, knowing that so many do not. Not for a second do I forget it and be thankful for the hand of cards I've been dealt.

This is what this blog is...a place to talk about the hand of cards I'm playing with. I want a place to write about what's going on with me, what's maybe going on in my head, what I'm thinking about, what, if anything, I'm up to. Maybe some travelogs, some photos or a gardening tip or two. We'll just have to see.

For now, here are a few lines from Van Morrison's Almost Independence Day

I can hear the fireworks
I can hear the fireworks
I can hear the fireworks
Up and down the, up and down the San Francisco bay
Up and down the, up and down the San Francisco bay
I can hear them echoing
I can hear, I can hear them echoing
Up and down the, up and down the San Francisco bay

If anyone's wondering, no, it didn't escape my attention that I barely got past the first sentence before I had to mention Van. Usually I wait until the second date.

Happy Independence Day, everyone!