Editor’s Note. This is the first post in a series of posts, all written by me while exercising on the elliptical machine in our house. Entries are slightly edited for spelling, but remain off the cuff, freewheeling and open ended.
An idea rheumatoid with motion rolls out of the mind with the first step on a new project. It’s Saturday morning, the first cold morning of Fall, that deep distant winter feel is starting to form in my chest. So it’s coffee then exercise that opens me up to the day. A warm coffee cough kiss with daughter, then my moving athletic shoes as various songs make their way fading out and bringing up the sounds of kids cartoon snippets.
The sounds of elfin Spanish rescue packs and distressed mountain lions fade out while the sound of late seventies punk comes in through the ears, the ache of my headphones reminding me just how much a cockney infected middle finger can stand for the sound of youth, all the young un-abandoned energy and all the lack of self censorship that comes with the mistakes we make in life. Then we get older, and we have to maintain, the middle finger just isn’t enough anymore, but we still look back, with graying temples, we grow up, we slow down.