Song for a Crappy Tuesday

A couple of posts ago, I lamented the use of the workday labels in a totally uncreative Buffalo Wild Wings commercial. Yesterday, I discovered that someone from the Buffalo Wild Wings Corporation was looking at my blog.

I'm going to lock my door lest the Wild Wings Mafia tries to get me disappeared (Though I can't imagine them effective in their mission since most of them will be arriving, dressed their Texas A & M Jerseys, off a Five-hour pub crawl.)


I know that most people don't care for grey days like today. I love them. Perhaps its my pale blue-ish skin, or child-of-the-night nature, but I really cannot stand the Sun. Sure, I get that we need its heat to sustain life on this planet. I understand that without its gravity we would just be a dead pebble hurtling through space. Thank you, Sun. Thank you for all you give.

Now quit bugging me. You get in my eyes and keep me from seeing. You burn my skin. You make me squint. You are unrelenting. Your heat stifles me and you smell like newly paved blacktop. Go away.

The Sun, in his ever jovial oblivion, wearing Abercrombie and Fitch cut offs and a polo shirt, slaps me on the back and says, "Whatever you say, cutie." He jogs off, gleeful and smiling. I know he'll be back. I roll my eyes and chuckle. "Cutie...whatever."

The grey days remind me that my favorite time of year is on the horizon. Fall. I love Fall.

Today's song gives me the same delighted warmth inside that the promise of Fall gives. It was introduced to me by a woman, L., who I was directing in an improv show a couple of years ago.

I have known her for quite a long time, and have admired her improv, but never had the chance to work with her directly. Over the course of the rehearsals she would give me the occasional ride home and I came to look forward to that time between us.

L. is the sort of person who experiences wonder in the world, and that is truly a rare gift. Most of us cage the expression of wonder for fear of reprisal. She is not one of those insufferable "happy all the time" sorts who make the rest of us feel like trolls for not getting it together (I think those are the ones who snap and go on some kind of cathartic spree. You can only swallow so much bile.). L. is just one of those souls who can express awe with open eyes. It is a pleasure to know her.

The first word that comes to mind when I hear her name is "Delight."

On one ride home she played Feist's "Mushaboom" off of the Let it Die album. I went home and promptly purchased it on ye olde iTunes. Whenever I listen to this song, I think of L. In my mind I have choreographed a whole dance with her in it, full of big papier mache flowers and stage snow. Maybe one day I'll get to stage it, whaddaya say L.?

The video is very similar to that, with the dancing. I guess it just inspires that kind of twitterpated boogie.

Tuesday is half over yo! We can make it! We can make it!