…The worry has been hanging around me all morning, which in my world is quite a big bother considering It’s always talking out of turn, invading my personal space and stuffing enormous slices of humble pie down my throat with out relent. I’m not sure why I invited the worry over in the first place, it’s seldom it ever needs to be around to put me in a nervous panic.
It was twelve a.m. when the worry rolled in to say “hello! OMG! Is everything O.K.?” “Did you forget anything important?” and three pm when I finally pulled the whole “hey worry, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?” the worry went out like a light and I went about daily routine.
Now I’m at a rival coffee shop drinking some cold press with my headphones on listening to the beats for my new album “porcelain revolver” when something hits me like a Chevy half ton…I got the day off, a couple of bucks and a will to write for hours on end…I aint talking blog’s, I’m talking some good old fashioned and new fangled folk-hop/flamenco funk rock-talking to the winds of change type bangers!
But before I jump into writing songs I’d like to share one story from yesterday that has been on my mind.
I was planning on taking a few friends to my parents cabin on the lake where my great grandfather had built a cabin/shack somewheres around 1920 I’m guessing. My mother and father bought it from my grandfather a few years back and invested a good chunk of cash into it’s remodeling, Which is why (when I asked if I could bring some friends there for the night) they were a little concerned about what I might do to the place when I’m up there, which is understandable considering my track record that needs no mention as of yet. They eventually give me the thumbs down on the cabin.
My friends and I were a little bummed, but were completely understanding of the out come. We decide to drive out to st. Paul mn and grab a slice of pizza from cossetta instead. Cossetta is an Italian joint that has been around since st Paul was built…or that’s what it feels like when your inside listening to nothing but 30’s 40’s and 50’s music and eating a slice of pizza that tastes timeless.
Were all in good spirits cracking jokes and talking like mob bosses when we near the end of our meal. I remembered someone earlier in the week telling me to check out the antique shop across the street from cossetta. She promised me I wouldn’t be disappointed. I ask the group if they were down and everyone agrees to go and browse through old junk and memorabilia with me.
While walking over there I over hear a drunk guy spilling his complaints out to friend out side the bar on the corner. It went something like this “hey man…you know…that bitch of a wife couldn’t find her way out of a plastic wet bag…or wet plastic bag!”…I shit you not it was truly stupidity at it’s finest; I couldn’t make that shit up myself.
So we’re in the antique store now and thirty minutes have passed. I reconnect with my friend kadi upstairs who is holding some great looking black and white photos she had scrounged up from a basket of junk. They’re all anywhere from 1910 to 1925 and of her whole lot she had one photo in particular that struck the both of us. It was a photo out looking a lake. There were two rowboats on each side of the picture almost symmetrical and there was a tree-covered coastline on the left. The first thing I said when I saw it was “yo, would you let me scan that picture? I wanna use that in my album art” and she agreed to spread the nostalgic wealth with me.
A couple minutes later and were are out the doors with our goods, me with two civil war first aid pins, kadi with her pictures, food head with his American pride and Jason with his bear skin rug circa 1945, which looked hilarious considering he has an enormous twisted mustache and full bear in his arms walking around downtown st. Paul while grinning ear to ear. I love my friends.
We roll back into Minneapolis still laughing about this obnoxious bearskin rug the Jason bought for a price that I wouldn’t pay for all the records in the world and decide to get caffeinated and further our day of whimsy.
We get back to the coffee shop and begin slipping back into our routine of finding funny pictures on ffffound.com and feeding each other encouragement when kadi said (while looking at the photo I mentioned earlier) “this photo says, lake Mary Alexandria mn. 1915” I immediately freak out and grab the picture and said “That’s the lake I was going to take everyone to…my grandfathers lake and the fishing spot where my grand father used to take me to”. The picture in the photo was taken off the same dock I cast my first line off. It was serendipitous to say the least. I still got some goose bumps and a few extra springs in my steps. The lake would have been nice to visit, but this trumped it over and over. I’m glad those kind of things happen and glad those kinds of things don’t happen all the time; I wouldn’t wanna waste that kind of overwhelming feeling. It may seem small to you, but it packs pretty heavy punch to me. My yesterdays.
-Cecil “drifting on a dollar” otter