Summer fog swirls lightly around the car on the drive in this morning. It's a refreshing 55° (13° F) so I roll the top back on the Fiat and let the fog slide through the car as I put-put toward campus. The forecast calls for low 80's (or high 20's, F) by late afternoon.
This is what the pace of mid-summer calls for, that calls to me:
Maybe this weekend, if the weather holds. For today: commute. It is unusually early, even for me, so I have most of the roads along my route to myself. I love the regular calls of birds as I pass along, so I lower the volume of the music. Like evenly spaced loud-speakers running the length of a very long transit platform, as one bird's call fades the next one comes into range and takes over, keeping their message unbroken.
VIt is mostly crows, jays, robins, and small songbirds, not blackbirds for my commute, though. Lucid, inescapable rhythms, indeed.
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
- Wallace Stevens, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
Speaking of rhythm, there sure was a lot of Fountains of Wayne today. Literally every other tune was theirs in this morning's random shuffle.
Today's commute playlist:
- Fleet Foxes: Battery Kinzie
- Fountains of Wayne: I Know You Well
- Brendan James: Begin
- Fountains of Wayne: Hotel Majestic
- The Bad Plus: Flim
- Fountains of Wayne: You Curse At Girls
- Posted via Hermes.