I have a pile of work to do, and there’s a big storm on the way — the temperature is dropping and the sky is drawing in on us, as if the world were shrinking. And so rather than telling the story of the actor who stabbed himself, or doing my monthly search keyword roundup (both coming soon, I promise), I thought I would just leave you with some music.
When I was younger and even more consciously dramatic than I am now, I once stood on a Florida beach at midnight watching heat lightning twenty miles out to sea, the last shreds of a thunderstorm gang that had come hulking across the area that day. It was a big system: the lightning poured down across half the horizon, and a cool wind blew in and out of the warm night, and the surf was pounding… so you know I had to sing “Riders of the Storm.”
I hope you have had the fun of getting big with the universe sometime.
Before The Doors, the storm song for my generation was Ghost Riders in the Sky sung by Burl Ives. They are both great songs. Thanks.
I was there. It was Coquina Beach. You could scoop up a handful of sand and let it flow through your fingers. What was left was dozens of tiny coquina shells, joined together to make miniature butterfly wings of pearled pinks, purples, lavendars, pale yellows, and soft gold. They rained like tiny tears through your fingers. Your hair was long and thick and blew in the wind, whipping in the air and (I thought) stinging your face. You did sing and and you danced barefoot at the shore. Thank you for this beautiful memory. I treasure it.