And there are so many reasons this song is a metaphor for spring. Its promise of hope and possibility, among them.
(Which is nice to feel, from time to time.)
You may be watching from a safe distance
You may be so close you can taste the blood
You may have headed for higher ground
You may be drowning in the flood
No matter what you do
Love will find you
You may have lost what little faith you have
You may believe with all your heart
You may be pulling yourself together again
You may be falling apart
No matter what you do
Love will find you
One of you sees that love's a long lost friend
One of you can't recognize her face
One of you runs to her with open arms
One of you falls down is disgrace
You may see a million different gateways home
You may think there's only one way through
You may be waiting for the kingdom to come
You may believe it's in you
I last saw Bill in the flesh several months ago, on a 5-mile(psychotic) (running) tour of the South Boston waterfront on a black, icy, blustery January night.
It was definitely time to do a post-work run together again -- and besides, spring had arrived -- so he and I put another 5-miler on the calendar for tonight at 6:30. This time we're meeting at Artesani Park in Brighton and looping the Charles River for old time's sake.
It goes without saying that today ends up being the only night in a 2-week window that the weather is once again:
1) Black. As in blanket fog.
2) Icy. As in temperatures nearing freezing.
3) Blustery. As in blanket rain. As in all day. As in the kind that leaves ankle-deep puddles on the corners.
Besides, I've told you I'm tired and today I'm still tired. (This status refuses to change for some reason).
At 9 a.m., after walking 4 blocks across the Back Bay into the gale to work, I checked in with Bill. Kind of hoping he'd say, Um, yeah right, like we're going to run on the river and drench and muddy and chill ourselves. And that maybe we'd decide together to postpone it to the weekend. And maybe I could just go home after work tonight and sleep....
K: Seriously. Drove in in a downpour.
B: It's going to be a wet run tonight. I brought lots of clothes to change into after.
K: Seriously. This is the only day we get rain this week….
B: Better than a heat wave.
And that was that. No rising to the bait. No acquiescing to my wimp-out. Which means I'm going to put on my windbreaker and Red Sox cap and go with my friend to catch a fiver. Probably a cold, too.
All because Bill and I are runners, damn it, and as a result, are gluttons for a good A**-kicking from time to time.
Which is probably good for our souls. Please let it be good for our souls.
From a Gmail exchange, today, 10:45 a.m., with Piano Man:
(Who still lives in Brooklyn, who I still haven't met in person and might never and I wonder even if we did if e would have any chemistry, who I nonetheless communicate with daily, who is 40-plus but slings internet slang as guilelessly as a teenager, who is exhaustively opinionated about music, who scanned and sent me the Ferruccio Busoni transcription of Bach's organ chorale "In dir ist Freude" and has been asking ever since when I'll be not too tired or not too wimpy to try playing it.)
Karin: You awake? Piano Man: depends what the meaning of "awake" is... ;) K: I have set the bar low, so I'm sure you're over it. PM: What I'm talkin 'bout K: I _think_ I got that. (see previous e-mail about the low bar) PM: s'ok. have you had a chance to fool around w/ the Bach/Busoni (herinafter B/B) yet? It's not so easy. But it rocks, as you know.
I do know. Do you? Here's a reminder both of how much it rocks and how not easy it is:
K: I haven't. I had to print it out at work, and it is sitting here on my desk. It actually makes me afraid. Tomorrow night, I have time and a night off, so perhaps I'll experiment with the futility of trying to play it. PM: "afraid"? An intrepid NoDakian like you? HA!
IN·TREP·ID [ in tréppid ]
ADJ fearless: courageous and bold
To recap:
I say, "I'm futile."
He replies, "You're fearless, courageous and bold."
Is there really any reason, even if we'll never meet in person, to rid myself of a correspondent with such powers of positive reinforcement?
I wish
I could run that (31 miles) far
and
I wish
I could get that much tax refund
or
I could get that much of a raise
or
that many fewer people could be unemployed
in the US.
I wish
I didn't know
that Josh Beckett
makes more than that
per game
(pitched).
And sometimes
I wish
I had that many
blog readers
per day.
(Well, not really.
Because
that would mean
I'd really have to work at it.
And
you all know how much
I like to work at it.)
But
it's Friday
and
beer is in my near future
and
50K hits on my blog
(in 2 years and 5 months)
seems
worth a mention and
a happy song.
Even if
there's zero chance
Bach would have had blogging
on his mind
when he wrote it.
(And.
Sorry to have
yet another post be
not about
my dating life.
When it, such as it is,
restarts,
you'll be the
first to know.)
Day 7 of 30: 2 miles April Total: 15.29 2011 Total: 169.28
Today I'd like to write a post full of lists of dating advice take an opportunity to talk about a "find fun people!" extravaganza I signed up for, which promptly started
a) (surprise, surprise) spamming me with daily e-mails
b) pestering me every 3 days to pay a membership fee to join at a higher level and
c) is starting to grow on me, despite a) and b).
Since I have no doubt exceeded my allotted goodwill for talking about being melancholy, let me today reverse course and introduce you to:
Cosmo says: "Men with fun date ideas do exist, and howaboutwe.com is the fastest way to find them. Instead of posting a profile on the site, users explain their ideal date (e.g., 'How about we take a sushi-making class together?' or 'How about we kick ass at trivia night?'). When you see a date idea you like, just message the guy to make it happen."
Karin says: I put an inquiry into this site on March 14. Since, my Gmail account gets a daily blast telling what any random 5 men in the Greater Boston area have signed up to suggest. Here's today's:
From a man who says his occupation is "monkey":How about we .... climb a tree and chill.
From a man who says his political views are "anarchist": How about we ... Go for coffee and see if we like each other, then I take you away to a secret museum and after we have crepes. Finally we have a drinks as I tell you another secret. Finally I do a tarot reading and find out if everything I imagine about you is true!
From a man whose profile pic is a pencil sketch of a smiley face:How about we ... gdgdg.
From yet another Jewish software engineer in Cambridge:How about we ... Invent names for abstract pieces of art at the ICA.
From a man whose profile is relatively nondescript: How about we: each pick a place that serves mulled wine, try 'em out, and see who made the better choice."
That's just today. Since I've been hanging around chatting with Piano Man pretty regularly the last couple weeks (which, I both anticipate and fear, is turning into a long story with uncertain ending) and otherwise maundering about, I haven't answered any. Which maybe I should ... especially since a glance at past offerings shows a large number of men proposing to take yoga class together, and I have not been getting my yoga on lately as I should.
(Which might help with that whole maundering problem I'm having.)
Incidentally, I didn't mention my offering from the day I signed up which didn't get any hits before it expired:
So Howaboutwe.com is also spamming me with bi-weekly advertisements for another feature of their website, "The Date Report." Usually these things annoy me more than tartar-removal sessions at the dentist, but I'm actually enjoying them. I'm thinking it's the no-nonsense unsentimentality of it, like today's heading:
10 Adventurous Boston Dates, Morning-After Etiquette, + How to End a Short Relationship
Which brought me links to advice titled
How Do You Break Up with Someone You're Only 'Sort-of' Dating?
Oh Sh-t! Is This a Date? 6 Strategies For Coping with Awkward Situations.
Dating Tips from Awkward Tween Pop Star Hopefuls
Which brought me views to links of past articles which such titles as:
8 Things to Wear on a Date to Impress a Geeky Guy
Vocab Lessons: British Dating Slang We'd Like to Adopt
Tell Me If You Think This Is Weird: I'm Totally Ok With Being Single And Know Valentine's Day Is A Made-Up Holiday But I'm Still Depressed
How Do You Know If She's The One? Watch Her Eat Corn.
I don't know what to do with it all. But it's all very amusing.
That about 11:30 last night, 2 Somerville local boys tried to pick me up, in tandem, at a new preppy bar in Davis. As I sat in yoga pants, running shoes and hair bristling with static, drinking Riesling and writing birthday thank you notes. They said they liked my glasses and my super-cheap-looking flip phone. They asked if I were addressing wedding invitations and if I might invite them. I wrote my name and (real) phone number on a blank thank you note. And let them take it.
That it snows. A lot. Big sloppy flakes, for the past 6 hours. And beyond the whole "it's April" thing, I actually can't stop watching it out my bedroom window. Instead of sleeping.
That leads to a small fact that yes, I have a personal training session at the gym in 4 hours and 42 minutes. For which I have to get up at 6:30 to digest breakfast, dress, pack a bag for work, and figure out the fastest manner to get there when, because it snows, I can't bike.
That I'm staying up this late a mere 14 hours after writing a screed about my newfound devotion to kicking insomnia.
And, perhaps most notably, that a main reason I'm still up is because of yet another planned phone chat with Piano Man from Brooklyn. How in the process of putting together a conversation of a more suggestive nature, he mentioned he was listening to a Brahms motet,O Heiland, reiss die Himmel auf.
(As in: Oh Savior, Rend the Heavens wide ... Oh God, pour down dew from heaven ... Ye clouds break and rain down ... O earth, break out ... That all mountains and valleys may become green ... )
Which couldn't help but be my favorite choir piece from college. After which he sent me the YouTube link and we then went on to talk about how the German tau means dew and how the passage at 1:57 is his favorite moment and how I could listen to the lead-in to Verse V a thousand times on repeat and how I haven't heard this version of this text in 10 years or more and I couldn't thank him enough for reintroducing me, and he thanked me back for talking with him about it.
That he and I are totally simpatico and he, naturally, lives in Brooklyn.
So, for this morning's scorecard. I've got:
random pick-ups
snow in April
a personal training session
no sleep
the best Brahms motet on the planet
She rents an apartment in a neighborhood of trendy condos.
Her bike is vintage Raleigh. Her car is from 1991.
The cat's litter box is next to her bed and she doesn't own a dresser.
She likes to make fun of herself.
Occasionally she runs marathons.
And yes, she has to wear glasses. Contacts are not an option.
