Lopaka Lounge

I really shouldn’t be blogging.  I should be in bed.  It’s 11:45.  I’m never up this late on a school night.  I’m going to regret it tomorrow.

I have been in a funk the past few days.  Not sure what’s going on.  I just feel emotionally constipated.   For some reason, I have been experiencing loneliness–which is weird for me.  I’m never lonely. 

In actuality, I should be happy.  I got my new sparkly camera.  It works better than expected. 

OK, I have to go to bed. 

I shot some time lapse this evening.  It’s of the moon setting.  

UPDATE 10:32 AM–next day:  For some reason, YouTube keeps taking down my time lapse video.  I have replaced it with a video of my very talented cousin Maggie playing a little ditty on my iPhone in the style of a concert pianist.  You may want to turn the sound up a little bit. 

OK, I’m going to try again, this time I’m going to embed the fucking thing myself. 

Arizona Moonset

This weekend Ray and I headed out to California to visit our mothers in the greater Los Angeles area.  Having grown up there, we both dread visits to the land of smog, traffic and memories of the past. 

We arrived at Ray’s mother’s house late on Thursday.  Exhausted, I crashed after a late dinner accompanied by several glasses of wine. 

The next morning, I hopped in the car and made my way to Thousand Oaks to visit my mother.  It was one of those rare LA mornings with the sun shining brightly and not a hint of smog.  There must have been some recent precipitation as there was a green hue covering the mountains.  It was spectacular.  It was also in the high 80′s.

Just as I got on the freeway on-ramp, I popped the Cocteau Twins album Blue Bell Knoll into the CD player and immediately selected track three, Carolyn’s Fingers.  The reverbed guitar intro and Elizabeth Fraser’s ethereal vocals combined with the newness of the day worked together so well that for a fleeting moment I almost wished I lived there again.

<<cue sound of needle scratching off a record>>

I quickly came to my senses.  I don’t like LA.  When I left 15 years ago, I left behind a part of myself that I didn’t care for anymore.  Whenever I go back, that old self starts tapping on my shoulder in an attempt to drag me back into the despair of a twenty-something boy named Bob.  I turned the CD player up as loud as it could go and decided to enjoy my little LA moment knowing full well that by the end of the weekend, I’d be back in Arizona a forty-something man named Cobban. 

This morning as I rushed off to work, I had a hankering for track three.  I was excited that Obama was about to take the oath of office and couldn’t help feeling that this really was the dawn of a new day.  Once again, Elizabeth Fraser’s vocals combined with the heavily reverbed guitars conjured up mental images of clouds parting, birds flying, angels rejoicing and a sun shining so brightly that I started to giggle.  Then I started to laugh.  Before I knew it, I was shedding tears of joy.  The days of George W. Bush are over.  I had not realized how oppressed I felt under his reign until it ended.  I was laughing and crying so hard I almost had to pull off the road. 

Good-bye George you motherfucker.  Eat shit and die–no, eat shit and live.  How’s it taste?

Hello Barack, please make things better.  I don’t expect you to fix it all but I do expect you to fix it. 

This song is for today.   Ms. Fraser’s vocal style makes it impossible to understand the lyrics but in this case, it doesn’t matter what she’s singing about.  What matters is that the music itself–for me–evokes feelings of a new beginning. 

Special thanks to Rick for reminding me just how much I love this album.  Turn it up, close your eyes and imagine…

Carolyn’s Fingers
Cocteau Twins

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Since Ray and I live in a remote area, we have to use propane.  The last time we filled up the tank, it was very, very expen$ive.  That makes me, who hates being cold, a heat miser. 

The house gets down to 63 during the night.  It would be a waste to heat it up in the morning only to run out the door an hour later so we get by on a space heater in the office for our daily routine.

Parker kitty has taken to jumping up on my lap in the morning.  She’s demanding about this new ritual so I tend to give in and let her curl up while I have coffee and check email.  It’s very amusing as she seems to enjoy Ray’s company much more than mine. 

This morning, after she got herself all cozy, Ray turned around and said “See! She loves her dad.”  I told him that she hates her dad and the notion of her loving me was anthropomorphic.  The real reason she wants to be on my lap is to draw my body heat away for her own comfort.  Ray didn’t agree.

I suddenly realized saying she hates me is just as anthropomorphic as saying she loves me.

Does my cat love me?  She seems to express affection when I’m feeding her or sharing my personal body heat (which I need at six a.m.) but other than that, she’s pretty much on her own.

This evening, after a frustrating work day, Parker defiantly jumped up on the cocktail table and started lapping away at my martini. 

LOVE: Oh, Mr. Human, thank you for sharing your delicious martini with me.  I’ve had such a tiresome kitty-kat day.
HATE: Fuck you asshole!  I’m getting me some of this juice ’cause I do whatever the fuck I want to around my domain!!

Do you see the love on her kitty-kat face?  You tell me . . .