When I was little, there was a day when my second grade class took a trip to a place called Deerfield in Pennsylvania, on the edge of Allegheny National Forest. It rained that day, and so the very wet group of us settled down in a big round room with all sorts of taxidermied birds hanging from the ceiling and watched it pour. It’s the earliest point in my life that I remember feeling overwhelmed by all of the beauty that could be packed into one single moment in time. Some time after that field trip, my dad was listening to a David Crosby album – If I Could Only Remember My Name, and I told my parents that the song Laughing reminded me of that day.
There were a few albums that he used to listen to when I was a kid that really stuck with me – Pink Floyd’s Animals, Paul Simon’s Rhythm Of The Saints, Bonnie Raitt’s Nick Of Time, Steely Dan’s Gaucho. Crosby topped that list because, even when I was very young, I noticed that every song felt like something I had seen or heard or felt.
The song Cowboy Movie always reminds me of spring. When the snow finally melts on Pierce Hill, there’s a tiny stream of water that runs alongside the road, all the way down the hill. One year I found an itty bitty waterfall and so I made a little sign for it and I used to bring my notebook down the road and sit by it and write. Cowboy Movie reminds me of that.
Imagine my excitement when David Crosby announced 5 shows in late February at The Troubadour, my favorite place to see a concert, to promote his new album Croz which is FANTASTIC by the way. Imagine my disappointment and worry when all 5 shows were rescheduled because he had to have a heart procedure.
Imagine my excitement when I finally got to go. The show was on April 13th. I texted my mom while I was waiting outside to tell her that the line was full of old guys smoking weed on the street. Imagine my slight disappointment when he didn’t play a single thing from If I Could Only Remember My Name on the first night. I bought another ticket for the Tuesday night show on a whim and went alone. The Troubadour is a tiny venue, so there’s no escape from having a great spot, but I sat 10 feet away from the stage and just zoned out.
Imagine my excitement that night, when, after a beautiful first set of the new album with an AMAZING group of musicians and a great second set full of older stuff, they played Cowboy Movie as the encore. I cried a little, lol. My reaction to that song was noticed and gave birth to a crazy series of events that landed me back at the Troubadour for the final show on Friday night, sitting on the stage while they set up, and then sitting on a couch upstairs at the afterparty with Crosby’s crazy white Santa Claus hair brushing up against me as he mingled. It also gave birth to an arguably even crazier series of events that led to me sitting on the beach last night with someone I’ve known for less than a week, feeling so comfortable that it was like I was having a conversation with myself. There is so much beauty in my life because of one song. Everything is blooming; everything is aligned.
(sorry for the shitty photos, I’ve only been workin’ with an iphone for the past week! You can’t take a camera everywhere.)
My one and only spiritual belief is that the best way to go through life is to just kinda float along, only doing what feels right, and letting the universe balance things naturally. I float a lot. I am a fucking walking article on how to be in the right place at the right time.