Cue the music of February! Winter’s rhapsody features woodwinds – well, woods and winds – on the forest ski trails. Subtle sighs in the treetops and perfect silences at midnight carry the melody. You kinda have to see it as well as hear it. In fact, you kinda have to go find it. But then, if everyone did, I guess the subtle sighs and perfect silences wouldn’t be there.
Sounds lonely. Isn’t. I get lonelier trapped indoors with flu and football. Matter of fact, it was out skiing that I had an interesting discussion about loneliness with someone I call Madam Madeleine (see photos below). I came into the rental HQ from a serene interlude of skinny skiing as described above, spouting my usual bombast in serial conversations, and when I finally got off the soapbox to stow my diamond-encrusted skis so that I could go next door to the chalet, she nailed me about misdirection and how I hide in front of a crowd. The thing of it is, she knew she was describing herself as well (lawsy, such a young woman to incur that fate). What she was actually asking about was the loneliness of not having a place or a person with whom you can be your real and total self. Like I said, interesting discussion.
And she made me wonder how deep that vein runs in everyone else. I may have an extensive wardrobe of quick-change identities, but judging from my email, it seems like virtually everyone wears a mask or two. And if that’s so, then when and where do the masks come off? The midnight hour of our lives? Only when we’re alone? Anonymously on-line? I think the saddest answer would be “never.” That’s the person who is in trouble. I don’t know what I said to Maddie, but I hope she discovers and preserves her sanctuaries. It’s because of mine that most of the time I don’t feel alone. What can be less alone than having the whole world of nature for a playground? According to the 2000 census, less than 6% of the US is actually settled. The rest is open rural land. That’s where my sanctuaries are when I’m not zigzagging through society under glass like a pinball.
Naturally I’m partial, but soul-buddy Glenn Frey will be up on Showtime tonight and tomorrow night (Feb. 15-16) with the history of the Eagles. He has kidded me about not having cable – “…you’re so cool, Sully,” delivered with a wry barb – but this is one time when I’m really sorry to miss a show. Glenn and the Eagles have never pandered to the gatekeepers of music history, but a glance at their incredible tenure over 40+ years makes them undeniably #1 in many respects. And the legend expands in both directions, as Glenn’s broadly-talented son Deacon is well on his way to his own stardom niche in music/acting. Ditto for daughter Taylor “Cha-Cha” Marie and the irrepressible Otis Lincoln Douglas Frey (youngest, and a small “frey” in name only). But if you really want to see the Wizard behind the Curtain, catch Glenn’s recent solo album “After Hours.” There be a brand of virtuoso music you would never know from a distance.
The title of my column over on Storytellers Unplugged this month is QUICK DRAW McFLAW & THE MEDIA-OCRITY. It’s all about intuition vs. logic. Some fun stuff, and I veer – probably dangerously – into a little history. Here’s the link: http://storytellersunplugged.com/thomassullivan/2013/02/15/thomas-sullivan-quick-draw-mcflaw-the-media-ocrity/#respond Many thanks for all the email on last month’s Q&A about rejection.
Photos below
include: #1-2 cougar-light night skiing; #3-4 Idaho mountains where I’ll be
traveling again later this winter to visit my friend Bruce and his wonder dog
Ziggy; #5 Sully and Bruce; #6 Bruce; #7 moi
and Maddie mentioned above (thanks for sending the photos, Madam Madeleine);
#8-11 four shots of Elm Creek’s magic; #12 Blast from the Past photo of me
modeling rollerblade gear from an Oakland Mall ad feature in suburban
Detroit. And here’s a special video link
to the tres cool short film trailer
for my novel BORN BURNING created by Doc Elizabeth Fortin: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CWbE24q6eU
Sexual reassignment weather has struck here in Minnesota with no regard to Valentine’s Day. Skinny skiing in -50 chill factors (add downhill speed into a gusting wind) almost certainly spells permanent voice changes for males. I have effectively reinvented what was once politely known as a “codpiece” in response. This may be unnecessary, however, since for some strange anatomical reason anything on my torso has never required insulation. My body may have been cobbled together from a “fast breeder” nuclear reactor with chicken legs on one end and Ichabod Crane’s head stuck to the other. My toes – like my torso – never get cold, and putting packets of sawdust mixed with iron filings in my gloves keeps the digit count at 10. As mentioned last month, it may be that I share some DNA with the non-hibernating, high-energy wolverine.
In any event, hope your Valentine’s Day warmed you from soles to soul and all points in between. Me, I stayed out in the cold watching the carousel video of “Overjoyed” from Matchbox Twenty’s appropriately named NORTH album. What is romance without music? Both are essential. Both are opiates of the heart, mind and soul. Along with…um, chocolate. Can’t have Valentines without chocolate. Nipples of Venus works for me. Those go back to Mozart’s time in Venice, the city of music and romance. And, I guess, the city of chocolate. Have a sweet month!
NOTE: I never pick
up the phone if I don’t recognize the number.
If you try to reach me, please be sure you are on my caller ID or else
leave a message. Telemarketers et al have made the phone all but useless, sad
to say. If you hide your number, you
won’t get through.
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