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A Man Who Has Nothing In Particular To Recommend Him Discusses All Sorts of Subjects at Random as Though He Knew Everything

Can You Hear Me

If the rain comes they run and hide their heads.
They might as well be dead.
If the rain comes, if the rain comes.

It rained all night, and hard. All day yesterday. It seems to rain all the time, but of course that’s not possible. But seeming matters, for we are animals. There has been no summer to speak of. July is the average hottest month here. We may never have summer at all.

The hottest temperature ever recorded here in Marion was 100 degrees, in 1975. I’m fairly certain we have never touched 80 even once this month, though it is the average high temperature we should expect here in July.

When the sun shines they slip into the shade
And drink their lemonade.
When the sun shines, when the sun shines.
Rain, I don’t mind.
Shine, the weather’s fine.

It is an interior life I live, anyway. I see four concrete walls all day, lighted by dreary fluorescents, and by the time that’s over so is any daylight, so you get a kind of submarine vibe in your life.

One searches for meaning everywhere, including where it is unlikely to be found. It has occurred to me that the vital thing is the promise of something. The availability of many things, whether you care to use them or not at any given time, matters. The car in the driveway serves a purpose far beyond the time you’re actively driving it. The car itself is just a hood ornament on the important thing: Mobility. I could leave and go elsewhere if I wanted to or needed to is a profoundly important idea. It is why it captivated the American psyche.

I can show you that when it starts to rain,
Everything’s the same.
I can show you, I can show you.
Rain, I don’t mind.
Shine, the weather’s fine.

We are hectored. Persons whose intellectual cupboard resembles a penthouse refrigerator — empty because they know they’re going to eat in a restaurant for every meal — are wondering why you have food in your larder. Telling you that you don’t need a lot of things. These things are a burden and you’d be happier without them. You’re not using them right now, so they are of doubtful utility. They demonstrate your existential car is useless by pointing out that you don’t drive in a circle around your astral abode all the time. Wouldn’t you be happier on the transcendental tram?

No. A real adult lives for the promise of things.

Can you hear me, that when it rains and shines,
It’s just a state of mind?
Can you hear me, can you hear me?

11 Responses

  1. ed in texas

    Those people that tell you to not burden yourself with unnecessary thoughts or ideas are also those who never contemplate ever doing anything different.

    Weather-wise, down here in Texas it's been 80 at night, banging up against 100 during the day, and a drought with fire weather warnings. (In between deluges.)
    That's the thing about the weather here; whatever it is, you get a lot of it.

  2. Yes, the key is to surround oneself with objects that are also transparent windows into eternity. Half the trick is in how one looks at them, in order to "unlock the promise."

    However, I wouldn't work under fluorescents, since they provide a very unnatural spectrum of Light, which affects the brain directly.

  3. Have you been working on a honey-do list because you seem very melon-choly lately. Perhaps my worry is fruitless.

  4. George was right. He and his little band did invent music television. You could say they reigned over the industry like that. I wouldn't, but you could.

    Phil in Va Beach

  5. What makes that a great video is the Beatles are in it.
    I know that weather you’re talking about. Born in Fall River, raised in Tiverton, married then off to Westport (MA) and now in Mystic. Once, not long ago I had a commute from Westport to Groton – many days drove through 3 weather systems.
    I knew a fine furniture maker in Padenarum – but I still don’t know how to spell the name of that town. Anyway, he was a nice man and he sold me a very nice piece of black walnut I used to make a mantle clock for my dear bride-to-be over 20 years ago while I was very poor art student.
    I’m afraid I’m almost out of town names to drop.
    I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. It’s not my fault.
    Also happy to report that I’m the 12,000 viewer of your profile.

  6. If I could, from my perch on the southern edge of the Texas hill country, I would trade you some breath-crushing, brain-baking heat for an inch of your rain.

  7. I used to drive a 1967 International Harvester Metro – kind of looked like a bread truck, only one no self respecting bread company would use. It had a four speed, but the first gear was so low, you could start it with it in gear – the starter would drive the whole van along until it started. Three of the six cylinders were pretty reliable. Exhaust leaked into the passenger compartment, so I had to drive with the doors open – kinda dicey at -30F. At -35F, the grease in the wheels got so stiff it wouldn't go over 25 mph.

    My wife never understood why I loved that thing. It had unlimited potential.

  8. No rain in Austin, I believe the clouds have forgotten how.

    I like my many things, they give me pleasure.

    I'd like to have more.

  9. If you have to live an interior life, kill the dreary fluorescents. They definitely cause a kind of submarine vibe in your life.

    Full spectrum fluorescent lighting will lift your mood. I have been using them for years in every one of my workplaces.

    One can experience 10 hour days at full tilt without feeling like the walking dead.

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