Adapting to the Static

I am walking off my disappointment. I have made up a mantra to defend against the regret:
Pay the price,
Roll the dice,
Sometimes you lose the bet,
Sometimes you collect.

Every time I start ruminating, calling it a mistake, I repeat my new composition. I am pounding the pavement to the beat.

Walking it off is symptomatic of another problem. It ends too many evenings gone wrong. Not wanting to wait for transportation is the excuse I usually use. Today the why I am walking is more important than the why walking is my response to it.

I am handling very poorly the discovery that the festival is a huge success with its target demographic of 18 – 25-year-olds.

I have the four-day pass. Looking at the programming and the options, I had decided that, even if it wasn’t really my style of music, it was not expensive, it was local and it was four days where I did not have to think about where to eat or what to do. I knew I might not like the festival but the four-day pass was, in my well thought-out opinion, a reasonable option to choose.

I force myself to start thinking about how to avoid another repeat. I look for patterns. Is this symptomatic of the local festivals? I had the same problem at the other local event at the start of the summer. The festivals in smaller places did not have this strong a bias. Does the ability to come by public transportation make them the domain of the youth?

It isn’t disappointment. It is embarrassment. I visibly do not belong here. This is very public. It is one of those things I am working on. I do not like being wrong.

Pay the price,
Roll the dice,
Sometimes you lose the bet,
Sometimes you collect.

It has a nice beat.

Don’t You Think It’s Sometimes Wise Not To Grow Up?

I like to think I stayed childlike,
Not childish.
Nowadays I avoid bad red wine,
Even at parties.
That’s childish.

I hum a tune,
Bust a step or two.
Others join in.
Sometimes,
It’s wise not to grow up.

“Went out walking through the wood the other day
And the world was a carpet laid before me
The buds were bursting and the air smelled sweet and strange
And it seemed about a hundred years ago
Mary and I, we would sit upon a gate
Just gazing at some dragon in the sky
What tender days, we had no secrets hid away
Well, it seemed about a hundred years ago
Now all my friends are wearing worried smiles
Living out a dream of what they was
Don’t you think it’s sometimes wise not to grow up?
Went out walking through the wood the other day
Can’t you see the furrows in my forehead?
What tender days, we had no secrets hid away
Now it seems about a hundred years ago
Now if you see me drinking bad red wine
Don’t worry ’bout this man that you love
Don’t you think it’s sometimes wise not to grow up?

You’re going to kiss and say good-bye, yeah, I warn you
You’re going to kiss and say good-bye, oh Lord, I warn you

And please excuse me while I hide away
Call me lazy bones
Ain’t got no time to waste away
Lazy bones ain’t got no time to waste away
Don’t you think it’s just about time to hide away?
Yeah, yeah!” — The Rolling Stones, “100 Years Ago,” Goats Head Soup (1973)

Could You Walk On Water?

The Rolling Stones almost offended the Christian South before John Lennon did. Decca stopped them. The aftermath was Aftermath which did not contain talk of pseudo paperbacks covering Chaucer to Steinbeck.

You’re gettin’ tired babe, sittin’ there on the side
Ain’t in the right place, to try and change the tide

You sit and read, but all you do is moan
You sit and read, but all you do is moan
Ain’t no wonder, you’re sittin’ there on your own

You’re readin’ the cover of a pseudo paperback
You’re readin’ the cover of a pseudo paperback
Displays about writers, Chaucer to Steinbeck

You’re lookin’ tired babe, sittin’ there on the side
You’re lookin’ tired babe, sittin’ there on the side
It’s only yourself, you’re takin’ for a ride

You say you won’t change, but do you really care
You say you won’t change, but do you really care
You can’t do much just sittin’ there in your chair

I said, hey babe, hey where you been all night?
I said, hey babe, hey where you been all night?
Your clothes all tangled, sure ain’t talkin’ right

You’re lookin’ tired babe, sittin’ there on the side
You’re lookin’ tired babe, sittin’ there on the side
You ain’t in the right place, to try and change the tide” — Rolling Stones, “Looking Tired” (1965)