It's a crack. I'm back. Yeah I’m standing on the rooftops shouting out.
Baby I'm ready to go. I'm back and ready to go. From the rooftops shout it out.
Ready to Go - Republica 1996
Not the most brilliant lyrics. They don’t have to be brilliant to make you feel brilliant. Though less accommodating with my own lyrics, when listening to other's music I’ll take simplicity over genius any day if the result is bliss. And right now, I’m in bliss.
I came over as soon as she called cause she’s a living doll. And she’s famous for nothing at all. She’s living life like a dream with a false sense of self-esteem.
I wish she’d trade places with me.
Five thousand dollars a day is what they pay my baby for her pretty face.
Supermodel - Juliana Hatfield 1993
I am officially having the best day of my life. Don’t ask me for a loan. I haven’t won Lotto. Haven’t even bought a ticket. Money can’t buy my bliss. Well that’s not true because it did. On Itunes. I finally got around to downloading a bunch of my favorite songs from the 90s. I already had some but was missing a key player – the goddess Juliana Hatfield.
Cut to today. I’m on Park Ave in New York City. Bloomberg has closed the road to traffic from the BK-side of the Brooklyn bridge up to Central Park South. Pedestrians, joggers, skaters and cyclists own the asphalt – as it should be. It’s one of those days that can only be described as perfect. The sun is warm but the air has a slight crispness, urging the sentient to hurry up and take that beach vacation because fall is only weeks away.
I am, well there’s not other way to describe it… strutting down Park Ave. Tall buildings either side give me a choice. Take the shade, or walk on the sunny side of the street? Lyrics to an old Broadway number whose purport I truly never grasped until I lived in NYC back in the 90s. It's a no brainer. Sunny side.
That I used to live in New York in the 90s is part of the reason why I am having the best damn day of my life. These were the days of Baby Gopal. We had a particular sound. The 90s had a particular sound. This particular sound was inherent in the bands of the day and right now I’m listening to some of the best female-fronted, what used to be called ‘college/alternative’ back in the day. Hatfield. Republica. Letters to Cleo. I apologize to no one. I’m singing out loud. These girls rocked my world then and they’re rocking it right this second.
The best days of my life (and yes I have many) are usually the result of a magic but simple cocktail of circumstances. August Bliss Martini: Gorgeous day. Strutting. Asphalt. Park Ave. College chick-alterna-rock. Singing out loud. Me. Alone. With. The. Universe. I like God again. I was pissed of at Him for a while.
I’m reliving the 90s. I’m blissfully happy. I am so happy that for some reason I want to call my ex. What the hell am I thinking? I can’t help it. He was part of it… until he wasn’t.
Wait it out. Don’t “drink and dial.” Don’t mistake a few sonically-induced errant endorphins for an intelligent idea. And stop being so damn sentimental.
Just living on a Sunday morning, got my toast and tea and I'm warm and I just thought I'd think about… all the things to get and keep getting, never enough, not enough and never ending. I just thought I'd think about....
And it might be...
The comfort of a knowledge of a rise above the sky, but could never parallel the challenge of an acquisition in the here and now, here and now.
Here and Now – Letters to Cleo 1994