September 8th, 2003

flavored with age

Finally catching up on his sleep

Warren Zevon, one of my very favorite songwriters and a performer I've seen live more times than probably anyone else with the exception of X, died yesterday. He seemed to be at peace with the way he was going out, and he certainly lived the life he wanted to. He wrote a bunch of really great songs, and even his lesser albums had songs worth listening to on them. I'll miss him.
flavored with age

A list of some sort

1. I am going to quit whining about things, about two things in particular. I'm even tired of hearing me whine about these things. I have no real problems other than having no money, and even that's my fault. So: no more whining about those things.

2. I have an opportunity -- not a lock, but a good shot at -- a regular, good-paying job as a music writer for a big local weekly. The upside is that it'd be huge for my portfolio, it conceivably would pay enough for me to quit my job, and I'd finally be writing for a living. The downside is, I don't know that I'd really be interested in writing about music full-time. I'm going to apply for the job, no question; I even hope I get it, which, I repeat, it is far from guaranteed I will. But, while I may be shooting myself in the food here, I really don't know if this is my ideal job. Music writing is a lot of fun for me, but I can see it becoming a chore if I have to do it full-time. Of course, it's not like I'd be writing ad copy or sales presentations, and it certainly would be an improvement on my current shitty office job, so this is probably yet another thing I should quit whining about.

3. I used to not like Brazilian jazz. Now I do. How about that.

4. Possible sign of maturity: I am much more able to feel happy for my friends who acheive success now than I used to be. I'm even happy for my friends who get married and have kids, which I used to view as something of a surrender. I'm still utterly convinced that I'm right about everything, and I still have no interest in moving in those directions myself, but I'm a lot closer to a seperate peace than I am at war with the world. This means something, but I don't know what.

5. I always used to say that I would never, ever, ever take up running. My (running) joke was, I only run if someone's chasing me, and even then I'd rather turn around and fight. But when my gym membership ran out -- I renewed it, but I my new membership doesn't start until the 22nd -- I decided that I shouldn't knock running until I actually tried it. So, for a full week, I tried running. I ran short distances to start, then I worked my way up to running 2 full circuits around the park, and then finally ran a couple of miles to a friend's house. And you know what? I was right. I hate running. I hate it and I don't want to do it any more. After I run, my knees hurt, my shins hurt, my feet hurt, my head hurts, and I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack, which I probably am. I do feel like I've gotten a good workout, but unlike when I've been lifting weights or fighting or doing a machine-assisted workout, I don't feel good; I feel like hell. I feel like I've been through a painful ordeal that I barely survived. So, you know what? I'm not gonna do it. Some people, I think, were just not meant to run, and I am obviously one of those people. But at least I gave it a shot.