Rain Day

The storm of the century, or so they said. What it really is, is 7 days of drizzle. Or is it 9, 10? This is the only time of year that SF has a so-called season. Rain. Lots and lots of rain. Rain that sucks the light out of every day. Rain that makes waking up at 7 feel like waking up at 5. Rain that pours, drizzles, mists – on and off, and on again so that you don’t know if you should even bother with an umbrella.

Forget it. I’ll just get wet.

(How am I expected to make up my mind when the sky can’t even make up it’s mind?)

Rain has a romance to it though. The pittering sound on the cement and windows that seems to be whispering secrets if you really stop to listen. The feel of heat on your wet feet after you finally get inside. The darkened sky in the middle of the day that makes you want to cuddle and giggle under a sheet with someone. Hide away all day until the sun comes out again. Or in this case, until what- May? I’d be alright with that…

Days like this make me want to write. Light about 200 candles and let my hair down and chain myself to the piano and make magic. I have felt loads and loads better since the music has started flowing again. The strange thing about this “business they call show” is that the business gets in the way of the art. You need to book shows. You need to make an album, have a website, a mailing list. You need to have a logo, a look. So you preoccupy yourself with these things. Then, when you book a show you realize- oh yes. I need to actually have some SONGS or something to perform. It’s a vicious circle.

Part of my problem in itself is that I write songs mainly because I can’t help it. But, it’s also a major part of relaxation therapy for me. (get my stir-crazy brain to settle down once and a while) I didn’t realize that until the making of the album and preoccupation of the business end pretty much pushed anything even remotely creative right out of my system. I’d never had a long-term writers block before- and part of me wondered if I’d lost my touch, and it would never come back again. Would I never ever have anything meaningful to write about? And then came the rain…and with it the inspiration to return to the notebook.

So I’d like to take this opportunity, while I am accepting my Dreary-Saturday award, to thank the rain for telling me stories. And making me remember all the different times we’ve shared together. The times we danced, the boys we’ve kissed, the trips we’ve taken, the tears we’ve shed.

Because that is what you are, are you not?

Tears?