Thanks to Spotify, we can ransack through the musical history of many bands and often discover some gems such as The Doors Full Circle, which was made without Jim Morrison who was already six feet deep in Père Lachaise. It may not be LA Woman but its more than respectable. For some reason, I had the Bee Gees in my head, probably because I flipped on the disco ball in the office when I came home. After a few songs from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, I decided it was time to explore their ‘deeper cuts’ and made the discovery that “You Should be Dancin’” is about as good as it gets.
I’m sitting in a room illuminated by a desk lamp and the disco ball, drinking sparkling water, waiting for Cami to come home. She is more than 24 hours delayed, currently in the purgatory of the Phoenix airport on her way back from Texas. Seamus is nowhere to be found. That’s fine, Barry Gibb is keeping me company. “And it’s me you need to show, How deep is your love…” I bought a bottle of wine earlier because it’s been raining nonstop – every cloud has a silver lining, my hair looks great – but realized I actually don’t feel like drinking and considering how much work I have to do between now and June 2020, have opted for a sober evening.
So, I’m writing a paper, and I get a text message from my friend Greg in NY about David Brooks column in today’s Times. My response…he’s an establishment hack though not as bad a Ross Douthat who is an outright caveman. In truth, as far as centrists go, David Brooks is tolerable, I’m just poking. I really want to keep chatting with him – so much basketball to discuss and baseball too – but this paper is due in two days, a presentation as well, and I have forty pages of Paolo Freire to get through before calling it a night. But alas, I just keep writing this nonsense…. OK, I’m going to take a break and get back to my paper. Wait, this is the break, from my paper…break over…
I wish I could figure out why the highlight tool isn’t working in this PDF I’m reading. I need a Millennial. Cami is still in Phoenix, but she’s boarding soon. By the time she gets home, I should be done with Freire. Do I give myself permission to skip Kool & The Gang’s “Open Sesame”? This song is terrible…it sounds like the theme music from a 70’s cop show. Fuck it, I’m moving on to “Jive Talkin.’” Back to Freire.
Greg and I were friends in college. We spent a lot of time together during the summer of 1987, with a group of mutual friends from Penn and my sister, who is a couple of years younger than me. We reconnected several years ago…I won’t go into that…but getting back in touch has been a treat. Other than our mutual, tragic love of the Mets, we often – sometimes – don’t agree at least when it comes to politics, but I enjoy sparing with him. And, he’s become a good friend. I don’t say that lightly. We’re actually closer now than we were years ago when clubbing until 5 a.m. was the basis of the friendship. Every friendship has its own history and this one has a happy ending…ending is not the right word…I hope we’re in one another’s lives for a long time.
The Washington Post just sent me a notification that Michael Cohen is going to describe Trump as a “racist,” a “conman” and a “cheat.” Since we know what he’s going to say why bother having the hearing? The real question is why did the WaPo need to interrupt Pedagogy of the Oppressedand “Disco Inferno” to let me know what Michael Cohen is going to say tomorrow when they already told us yesterday?
New notification, an iceberg is about to break apart in the artic. And now the PBS News Hour is also letting me know that Michael Cohen has some big things to say tomorrow. Thanks. Bars are opening early in DC so that people can get loaded and watch the testimony. Should I set my alarm so that C-Span can put me back to sleep? Can someone please send me a notification and let me know when Cami is going to be home?